Trans History: Kewpie – The Unapologetic Icon of District Six

Cape Town’s Kewpie is remembered as an icon of queer and trans history in South Africa (Photos: Kewpie Collection/GALA)
“I’ve always realised that I am me. I’m Kewpie. I’m just me.”
In a world that often seeks to box people into binaries, Kewpie was a breath of radical authenticity. A celebrated hairdresser, performer, and activist in her own right, Kewpie lived her truth with grace, flair, and fearlessness.
She was a trans icon before language caught up with her reality, navigating the complexities of identity in apartheid South Africa with nothing but her truth and a bold red lip.
Kewpie’s life wasn’t just lived — it was staged, performed, and archived in style. Her presence was loud, visible, and uncompromising.
At a time when being queer, let alone gender non-conforming, was criminalised and pathologised, Kewpie embodied queerness not as an act of rebellion, but as a simple, daily fact of life.
“They can’t say I’m a man, they can’t say I’m a woman… I’m naturally just me,” she once said. And that ‘me’ would become the heart of District Six’s queer culture.
From Eugene to Kewpie: Becoming a Legend
Born in 1941 as Eugene Fritz, Kewpie grew up in the vibrant, overcrowded, multicultural hub of District Six in Cape Town. One of six children, only she and two siblings survived to adulthood — a reflection of the harsh conditions many families endured under apartheid’s spatial segregation and economic deprivation.
From a young age, Kewpie’s creative spirit shone through. She had dreams of becoming a ballet dancer and even studied ballet at the University of Cape Town.
When offered a chance to perform overseas, it was a devastating blow when her father turned it down on her behalf. Instead, he encouraged her to pursue hairdressing — a choice that would inadvertently lead Kewpie to become a pillar of her community and a cultural legend.
Her salon in Kensington became much more than a business. It was a refuge, a performance space, a fashion runway, and a community hub. It was where Kewpie and her friends — a vibrant community of queer and gender-diverse people — gathered, celebrated, styled, and shone.
The Drag Queen of Hanover Street
Known on stage as Capucine, a name inspired by 1950s glamour, Kewpie was the undisputed queen of District Six nightlife. Her drag pageants held in halls and backyard spaces were wildly popular, often attended by locals and covered by the press. In a deeply segregated and conservative country, Kewpie’s balls were moments of radical joy and defiant expression.
She was glamorous, fashionable, and impeccably coiffed — and through it all, deeply respected. Perhaps most touching was the acceptance she received from the family of her long-time partner, Brian Armino.
They embraced her as a woman, evidence of the respect and legitimacy she commanded in a time when such affirmations were rare.
But heartbreak was part of Kewpie’s life too. When Brian left her to marry and have children, it underscored the limits of social tolerance — a reminder that respect didn’t always translate into full acceptance.
Refusing to Be Erased
When the apartheid government began its forced removals in District Six in the late 1960s, Kewpie’s family moved to Bellville. But Kewpie refused to leave. District Six wasn’t just her home — it was the stage for her life and a community she had helped shape.
The destruction of District Six devastated her. The sense of belonging that had empowered her to live authentically was torn apart by bulldozers and state violence. Still, she remained.
Even after a diagnosis of throat cancer in her later years, Kewpie continued serving her community — as a hairdresser, friend, and matriarch of Cape Town’s queer scene.
She passed away in 2012 at the age of 71, leaving behind a vibrant, deeply human legacy that has only grown in significance since her death.
Daughter of District Six
In 2018, six years after her passing, Kewpie’s life was brought back into public consciousness through the exhibition Kewpie: Daughter of District Six.
A collaboration between the Gay and Lesbian Memory in Action (GALA) and the District Six Museum, the exhibition featured more than 700 personal photographs — the largest personal photographic archive in GALA’s history. Most were captioned by Kewpie herself before her death.
These images — of parties, lovers, drag performances, and daily life — are not just a testament to her existence, but a living archive of queer life under apartheid. They reveal how deeply embedded queer people were in the cultural and social fabric of District Six — not as outsiders, but as beloved daughters, sons, friends, and neighbours.
The exhibition toured Johannesburg in 2019 and was honoured during the District Six Heritage Day Parade, bringing Kewpie’s name and face to a new generation of queer South Africans.
A Legacy of Visibility
Kewpie’s life makes clear that visibility itself is political. She may have never called herself an activist, but in the apartheid context — in a time of forced removals, gender policing, and racial discrimination — simply existing as herself was a powerful act of resistance.
She didn’t use the word “trans.” She didn’t call herself non-binary. But through her actions, her gender expression, and her refusal to conform, Kewpie laid the groundwork for those identities in South Africa.
She reminded us that our queer and trans history didn’t begin with legal reforms or hashtags — it began with people like her who chose to live out loud.
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