Sometimes people lay themselves bare because they understand that their lives are part of something bigger than themselves. They understand that the work is not simply about being but about leaving something for those who come after them.

That is the work of Hloni Modise Matau. A mother, a wife and the founder of the Basadi in Music Awards, Matau has spent years building a platform dedicated to celebrating women in an industry that has not always made room for them.

Since 2022, she has made it her mission to give women their flowers while they are alive to receive them.

Well, it is time to give her hers.

Matau’s story is one of resilience, community and an almost stubborn belief in what is possible. But it is also a story about what happens when a woman refuses to let where she comes from determine where she is going.

“I’m just someone that’s just been really trying,” she says. “I think to a large extent, I still am.”

That determination was forged long before music became her world.

Growing up in Alexandra, Matau watched as friends left for university and entered the workforce while she remained behind. It would have been easy to mistake circumstance for destiny. Instead, she and her friends imagined themselves into another life.

Every Friday, they would meet at an eatery dressed as though they were living the lives they wanted.

“I put it to the universe that this is the life that I want to live,” she says.

It was an early lesson in the power of imagining something before you have the means to make it real.

Matau was always creating. As a young woman, she organised community projects, hosted Mother’s Day lunches in her father’s garage and worked with elderly people. There were no corporate sponsors, elaborate budgets or powerful networks to call on. There was simply an idea and the determination to bring it to life.

“I’ve always had the gift of creating things out of nothing because at that time, there was nothing like budgets,” she says. “Whatever you put on paper has to come to life.”

That instinct to create would eventually become the foundation of her career.

But Matau never intended to work in music. Her entry into the music industry came almost by accident, through a temporary job booking artists.

The beginning was bruising.

She recalls working for a boss who constantly undermined her, making her question her place in the room. She lasted three months.

Then came another opportunity, this time as a marketing assistant. Again, things did not immediately work out.

Administration was not her strength and she was nearly fired.

But Matau had learnt something about herself: rejection did not necessarily mean the end.

She asked for three months to try something else.

That something was public relations and everything changed. Matau found her rhythm, moving from community work into national spaces and eventually working at the South African Music Awards.

Along the way, she gained experience in artist management and the recording industry, while building relationships with artists, particularly women.

The relationships would eventually become the foundation of Basadi.

But Matau insists she never cultivated relationships because she was calculating what they could eventually do for her.

“Treat people well,” she says.

She has learnt the lesson repeatedly.

“You never know,” Matau says. “Sometimes you do something for people and someone will hold it close to their heart and the one time you fall, that person will be there to lift you up.”

It is this belief in people that sits at the heart of Basadi.

For years, Matau had watched women work relentlessly in an industry that could be exhilarating but unforgiving. She had experienced what it meant to be excluded from conversations and treated as though she was not an equal.

At one point, she wondered whether she had reached the ceiling.

Instead of accepting the limitation, she asked a question: What if women could create their own space?

“Why don’t we create something where we can celebrate? Because we work hard,” she says.

The awards have grown into more than an annual ceremony. For Matau, the trophies and glamour are almost incidental.

“The ceremony, the weekend, the respect and the glamour — it’s the cherry on top,” she says.

“For me, it has always been about the buildup because that’s where the skills transfer is happening. That’s where the workshops are happening. When the workshops are happening, you’re trying to impart different skills to different people, trying to open doors for different people in other ways.”

This is where Matau believes the real impact lies.

Basadi, Matau says, has become a platform — a safe hub where women can access opportunities, relationships and knowledge.

But building the space has demanded enormous personal sacrifice. This year, the awards needed about R3 million. Only around R1m was raised. Two weeks before the event, Matau did not know whether they would reach the finish line.

Yet people showed up.

Friends offered their skills. Performers agreed to reduced fees. Hosts came on board. A theatre offered its space. People Matau had met throughout her career raised their hands and asked how they could help.

“That’s what carried it this year,” she says.

There is something profoundly South African about that kind of survival: the understanding that sometimes a vision survives not because one person has everything but because a community refuses to let it die.

It is also what makes Matau’s message for Women’s Month powerful.

She does not believe women need to perform invincibility.

At the time of the interview, she was exhausted after carrying the weight of the awards.

“My mental health right now is on zero,” she admits.

“My mental health is depleted right now. I need time out.”

There is no shame in the admission. Instead, there is honesty.

“It’s not easy. It’s painful. It’s frustrating,” she says.

And yet, there are moments that make the struggle worthwhile: watching women smile, seeing an idea become real and hearing someone say they have never experienced a space like Basadi before.

“I love seeing people win. There’s a lot of people who do incredible things that are not celebrated.

“And if God has put it within me and my team to be able to do that for others, let’s do it.”

Perhaps that is the message Matau offers women this Women’s Month: you can be tired and be powerful. You can be uncertain and move forward. You can need help and be strong.

“We are great, unstoppable. But we’re also fragile,” she says. “And

it’s okay.”

Her journey is evidence of this.

This year, Matau imagined bringing all four previous Basadi hosts together on one stage.

On paper, the idea seemed almost impossible.

Then it happened.

For Matau, that is what belief can do.

“You have to believe in yourself

so much that you’re delusional,” she says. “And whatever you set your mind to, you will achieve. I swear to God.”

Two weeks before the awards, she did not know how it would all come together.

She could have walked away.

Instead, she kept going.

“If there’s anything that this has taught me is that we’re all unstoppable,” she says.

“If you believe in something like that much, the universe and God will take you across. You just need to be crazy enough to believe it.”

For a woman who has spent her life creating something from almost nothing, this is more than inspiration. It is a lived experience.

Perhaps her greatest lesson this Women’s Month is that power does not always look like standing alone.

Sometimes it looks like a community.

Sometimes it looks like giving someone their flowers.

Sometimes it looks like opening a door for another woman because someone once opened one for you.