Moonchild Sanelly burst onto the UK scene this summer with her booty-shaking rave of a show that featured big beats, catchy hooks, and some spectacular voguing from her DJ accomplice. Hailing from Durban and determined “never to go back,” the artist’s own brand of what she calls ‘Future Ghetto Funk’ combines housey electronica with alt-pop vocals covering everything from female empowerment to breakfast food. She’s playful, powerful, and provocative, and her energy is infectious.

A show-stopping performance at WOMAD saw her blow the roof off Molly’s Bar and nearly break the stage as well when she invited half the audience to join her on it. Rhythm Passport caught up with her backstage beforehand to explore the origins of her unabashed self-love and seemingly endless drive.

What’s brought you here?

I started singing seriously in Durban when I was studying fashion—that’s when I created my genre of Future Ghetto Funk. I just wanted the mic, so I didn’t care what genre it was; I would say yes to anything. I was hungry for success back then, starting with poetry, progressing through hip-hop, jazz, and then classical music. I was close to all these different genres and thought, ‘No man, I’m bored. I want to do something ‘pow!’ My own thing, something new.’ So, I created my genre, and in doing my own thing, I realised, there’s no competition here. I need more.

So I wrote down: I’m gonna go to Johannesburg, then London, New York, and Japan.

I wouldn’t sign in South Africa because I knew my creativity would be limited at home—it wouldn’t be understood. It’s alt. Even when I was in the alternative electronic space, I’d be the only girl on the main stage with the boys, or the only Black. And there, you’re doing 10 or 15 shows a year. It’s not really sufficient. It wasn’t for me.

I’ve always seen myself as a global brand. No matter how hungry I was, I’d never sign at home. I’ve always believed in myself.

Where does your energy and ambition come from?

From the fact I have to win or win. I ran away from home at 19 after my uncle sexually harassed me, and I remember sitting in front of the mirror thinking, ‘I’m too pretty for prison.’ It was a real chat, I promise you! I was traumatised, but I’m very silly even when I’m mad.

The New York Times came to South Africa in 2015 and did a day in my life. I named and shamed him, and in that moment, I realized, it’s bigger than that. Thank you to him for motivating me to get to the point of exactly what it is that I stand for, which is having a voice, owning your body.

Once I realized that, I understood how to write more authentically. I also said, ‘I’m never going home.’ So maybe the motivation to never go back was just my spirit. I have to win. I had to get big enough to make it. And I’m a fighter.

The genres you started out in—jazz and hip hop—are typically male-dominated spaces…

I didn’t even think about that—I don’t think I look at limits. I just deal with the problems as they come.

I’m thinking of women in Durban, in jazz. Busi Mhlongo was a rock and roller—she’s our girl who went international, Afro-Punk. One time I opened up for her in Durban when I was still a jazz kid. She said to me, ‘Don’t let them change you. You’re beautiful. Never change.’ Meeting the biggest, most iconic rebel of the country—that’s freaking cool.

With all the living legends that I’ve met, those who know their power are able to celebrate me. Those who probably never made their money are bitter, and they don’t get me, but I guess they don’t get themselves anyway. Maybe they’re threatened—by my liberation, perhaps, by my knowledge. I like to know what I get myself into. I don’t just sign, and then I’m famous and I’m broke. I’ve learned that you can be famous yet still be hungry.

Speaking of liberation, how did your collaboration with Self Esteem come about?

I watched her at a festival I did last year and thought, ‘Cool, let’s go—she is lit!’ Afterwards, I went to Johan’s [producer Johan Hugo] to finish my album, and she was recording there so we ended up linking and digging the vibes. We connected so hard in the studio.

We started with ‘Big Man.’ It was so easy for us to get into it because in our chats we cried, laughed, and complained. You know—like you’re a badass running things, and you have a partner who just wants to dilute; it’s like you said, ‘Hi, I’m dilutable juice, that’s my name.’ No, never!

We just connected on so many different things. When I was with Rebecca [Self Esteem’s real name], the words flowed. It was one of those rare times where you connect on another level. We had the same experiences because we’re both those girls, empowered and with things to say—it was beautiful.

Musically, what are you up to next?

There’s another song coming from me and Self Esteem soon.

I just put out my single ‘Big Booty,’ which is a love letter to my ass—because you gotta thank it for sitting you down, for shaking the stage with you! I’m at that level of freedom where I can make a song out of anything. I’m free enough to just talk about the things I love, which is liberation and whatever else. But I don’t talk about relationships. I listen to someone else talk about that. I feel like there are people who specialise in that—but I live love. I don’t write about love. I liberate, whether in love or not.