Pretty Privilege, Soft Lives, and the Accountability We Avoid🧍🏽‍♀️🫥

It has been a long while since I last sat down and decided to write. Life has been moving fast or, to be honest, I had temporarily shifted my focus from blogging to my existential crisis 🫥. I completed my qualification in record time, I am preparing for graduation, and I am slowly stepping into a new chapter. But in the middle of all of this, there has been something burning on my chest, something that feels too important to ignore. I love being in the know when it comes to current affairs and politics, and lately, it has been impossible to look away.

The time is 02:31. I should be studying or making progress on my endless assignments, or even better, unwinding in my usual ways 🃏 playing solitaire for hours or watching Disney movies and reminding myself about kindness. But instead, I have this unshakeable urge to write my first blog in a long time. Hello everybody, welcome to another insight from Mantle ❤️.

I genuinely love sharing my thoughts, especially when I feel certain about the stance I am taking. So, with your indulgence, that is exactly what I am about to do.

We are living through a moment where corruption scandals, especially those linked to Eskom, are unfolding right in front of us. These are not distant political conversations. They shape how we live every single day. Load shedding, financial pressure, daily frustration. This is the reality for so many South Africans - an inhumane reality for that matter.

And yet, at the same time, the loudest conversation online feels like something else entirely.

A discussion sparked by Ziyanda about light-skinned women and their place in society has taken over timelines. It might be a necessary conversation in its own way, but the intensity of it right now feels telling. It reveals something deeper about what we choose to focus on and what we choose to overlook. Because while we are debating identity and desirability, something far more uncomfortable is happening in plain sight. Our sense of accountability is selective.

Leleti, who is admired by many young women, has become a symbol of this contradiction. Her lifestyle is seen as aspirational. The soft life, the luxury, the aesthetics. Yet there are allegations that this lifestyle is funded by a man connected to corruption. Corruption that directly contributes to the very struggles people complain about every day. Still, she is not met with the same energy people bring to other issues. Instead, there is sympathy. There is admiration. There is continued support.

This then begs the simple yet underrated question: Why?

Why is it easier for us to critique a woman’s skin tone than to question the ethics behind wealth that may come from harm? Why do we defend what looks good instead of confronting what is right? This is where Ziyanda’s point begins to make sense, whether people are comfortable with it or not. Pretty privilege is not just about beauty. It shapes perception. It influences who we protect, who we excuse, and who we hold accountable. If Leleti looked different or lived a less polished life, would the response be the same? It is almost hard to believe that it would. I will expand, now the aforementioned creator spoke quite indepthly about light-skinned women and their validation from the male gaze, but in a rather rare instance, women gaze and validation too. (walk with me🚶🏾‍♀️) "Whatever Leleti said in her prayers" "Siyabanda bafazi" these are comments made by women who are effectively validating her content and ultimately losing sight of the pressing and relevant questions.

Then there is a phrase that keeps showing up, "Small girl, big God". At first, it sounds harmless, even inspiring. But lately it has started to feel like something else. It is being used to justify lifestyles that raise serious questions. There is nothing wrong with wanting a good life. There is nothing wrong with ambition, comfort, or success. The problem is when we stop caring about where it all comes from.

That shift matters.

Young girls are watching. Women are internalising these messages. When worth becomes tied to appearance, lifestyle, and access, we start to lose sight of integrity. We begin to blur the line between success and complicity. And maybe what is most unsettling is how easily it gets spiritualised. They say God did it. But sometimes that becomes a way of avoiding uncomfortable truths.

This is not about attacking anyone. It is about being honest with ourselves. If corruption harms us, and it does, then we cannot keep celebrating the lifestyles it creates. We cannot choose when accountability matters and when it does not. So maybe, just maybe, the real issue is not just about light-skinned women. Maybe it is about us.

What we choose to defend, what we choose to ignore, and what that says about who we are becoming, because in the end, the conversations we amplify and the ones we avoid say more about us than we realise.