According to experts, contrary to belief, BDSM sex is the most democratic sex. We are joined by experts, Obstetrician Gynaecologist Sexologist Dr Mpume Zenda,
Relationship Expert Fred Mmamabolo and Sex Educator Lisa Welsh.

According to experts, contrary to belief, BDSM sex is the most democratic sex. We are joined by experts, Obstetrician Gynaecologist Sexologist Dr Mpume Zenda, Relationship Expert Fred Mmamabolo and Sex Educator Lisa Welsh.

METRO FM Talk with Faith Mangope

METRO FM Talk with Faith Mangope

After 8 is After 8 - BDSM - The politics of the bedroom

For many South African teenagers, the matric dance is one of those moments they have been dreaming about for years. The dress, the suit, the photographs, arriving with your friends, celebrating the end of 12 years of schooling — it is supposed to be a night to remember. But should that celebration come with conditions? Should you have to earn your matric dance through good marks, good behaviour and discipline? That question has been thrust into the spotlight after a principal at
Milner High School in Klerksdorp cancelled this year’s matric farewell following poor academic performance and concerns about learner behaviour. Seventy-two out of 186 Grade 12 learners failed
their Term 2 examinations, while the principal also raised concerns about learners bunking classes and missing additional lessons, as well as disruptive behaviour during the so-called 40 Days
celebrations. So where do we draw the line? Is cancelling the dance a legitimate way of teaching accountability — that privileges come with responsibility — or are we punishing an entire group of young people for the actions and academic performance of some? And what about the learner who worked hard, attended every class and performed well? Tonight, we ask: should matric dances be scrapped altogether, or should they remain an important rite of passage — perhaps with a different approach to how they are earned and celebrated?

For many South African teenagers, the matric dance is one of those&nbsp;moments they have been dreaming about for years. The dress, the&nbsp;suit, the photographs, arriving with your friends, celebrating the end&nbsp;of 12 years of schooling &mdash; it is supposed to be a night to remember.&nbsp;But should that celebration come with conditions? Should you have&nbsp;to earn your matric dance through good marks, good behaviour and&nbsp;discipline?&nbsp;That question has been thrust into the spotlight after a principal at Milner High School in Klerksdorp cancelled this year&rsquo;s matric&nbsp;farewell following poor academic performance and concerns about&nbsp;learner behaviour. Seventy-two out of 186 Grade 12 learners failed their Term 2 examinations, while the principal also raised concerns&nbsp;about learners bunking classes and missing additional lessons, as&nbsp;well as disruptive behaviour during the so-called 40 Days celebrations. So where do we draw the line? Is cancelling the dance a legitimate&nbsp;way of teaching accountability &mdash; that privileges come with&nbsp;responsibility &mdash; or are we punishing an entire group of young&nbsp;people for the actions and academic performance of some? And&nbsp;what about the learner who worked hard, attended every class and&nbsp;performed well? Tonight, we ask: should matric dances be scrapped&nbsp;altogether, or should they remain an important rite of passage &mdash;&nbsp;perhaps with a different approach to how they are earned and&nbsp;celebrated?

AFTER 8 IS AFTER 8: Should Matric Dances Be Scrapped — Or Should Learners  Have To Earn The Right To Celebrate?

As the number of women found dead across Ekurhuleni continues to grow, we have heard many of the names, the locations where their bodies were discovered, and the growing fears among communities. But behind every one of those bodies is a woman who had a family, relationships, dreams and a life that existed long before she became part of a police investigation. One of those women was 32-year-old Itumeleng Kekana, originally from QwaQwa in the Free State. She disappeared from Kempton Park on the evening of July 17. Her family spent 17 days searching
for her, going from hospitals and clinics to police stations and mortuaries, holding onto the hope that they would find her alive. Instead, they were eventually called to identify her body after it was
found near a bridge along the R21. And perhaps because so much attention has understandably
focused on the growing number of women being found, Itumeleng herself risks becoming another name in a list. But for her family, she was not a statistic. She was a mother, a daughter, a sister and a
woman remembered as humble and loving — and a huge Orlando Pirates supporter. Today, we want to slow down and hear more about Itumeleng: who she was, what happened during those 17
days of searching, and what her family needs answers to now. We speak to the family spokesperson.

As the number of women found dead across Ekurhuleni continues to&nbsp;grow, we have heard many of the names, the locations where their&nbsp;bodies were discovered, and the growing fears among communities.&nbsp;But behind every one of those bodies is a woman who had a family,&nbsp;relationships, dreams and a life that existed long before she became&nbsp;part of a police investigation.&nbsp;One of those women was 32-year-old Itumeleng Kekana, originally&nbsp;from QwaQwa in the Free State. She disappeared from Kempton&nbsp;Park on the evening of July 17. Her family spent 17 days searching for her, going from hospitals and clinics to police stations and&nbsp;mortuaries, holding onto the hope that they would find her alive.&nbsp;Instead, they were eventually called to identify her body after it was found near a bridge along the R21.&nbsp;And perhaps because so much attention has understandably focused on the growing number of women being found, Itumeleng&nbsp;herself risks becoming another name in a list. But for her family, she&nbsp;was not a statistic. She was a mother, a daughter, a sister and a woman remembered as humble and loving &mdash; and a huge Orlando&nbsp;Pirates supporter. Today, we want to slow down and hear more&nbsp;about Itumeleng: who she was, what happened during those 17 days of searching, and what her family needs answers to now. We&nbsp;speak to the family spokesperson.

17 Days of Searching: Remembering Itumeleng Kekana

September is Suicide Awareness Month, a time when we are encouraged to talk about something that many of us still find incredibly difficult to say out loud — suicide. And perhaps the hardest part is that sometimes, the people we lose are not people we thought were struggling. They could be the colleague who arrived at work every morning, the friend who was always making everyone laugh, the parent who kept the household going, or the person who kept saying, “I’m fine,” even when they weren’t. But talking about suicide cannot simply be about what happens after someone dies. It has to be about what happens before — the moments when someone is struggling, withdrawing, feeling
overwhelmed or losing hope. Do we know how to recognise when someone needs help? Do we know what to say without making things worse? And importantly, are we creating spaces where people feel safe enough to say, “I am not okay”? Today, we want to have an honest conversation about suicide — not to sensationalise it, but to understand it. We’ll look at some of the warning signs, the role that families, friends and communities can play, and where people can turn when they feel that they simply
cannot carry what they are carrying anymore.

September is Suicide Awareness Month, a time when we are&nbsp;encouraged to talk about something that many of us still find&nbsp;incredibly difficult to say out loud &mdash; suicide. And perhaps the&nbsp;hardest part is that sometimes, the people we lose are not people&nbsp;we thought were struggling. They could be the colleague who&nbsp;arrived at work every morning, the friend who was always making&nbsp;everyone laugh, the parent who kept the household going, or the&nbsp;person who kept saying, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m fine,&rdquo; even when they weren&rsquo;t.&nbsp;But talking about suicide cannot simply be about what happens after&nbsp;someone dies. It has to be about what happens before &mdash; the moments when someone is struggling, withdrawing, feeling overwhelmed or losing hope. Do we know how to recognise when&nbsp;someone needs help? Do we know what to say without making&nbsp;things worse? And importantly, are we creating spaces where&nbsp;people feel safe enough to say, &ldquo;I am not okay&rdquo;?&nbsp;Today, we want to have an honest conversation about suicide &mdash; not&nbsp;to sensationalise it, but to understand it. We&rsquo;ll look at some of the&nbsp;warning signs, the role that families, friends and communities can&nbsp;play, and where people can turn when they feel that they simply cannot carry what they are carrying anymore.

After 8 is After 8 - BDSM - The politics of the bedroom

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