When you think of Kgothatso Dithebe, you probably picture the beautiful model. But to reduce her to a pretty face on your Instagram feed is to miss an even more striking story.
Born and raised in Mahikeng, Kgothatso had to put herself through school from a young age. Even then, she displayed rare determination. “I made sure I finished school. I believed there’s certain things in life I will have. I might not have all of it, but I can have some of it.”
“I think that’s also my motivation in life. Because I always look at where I come from, I always look at my childhood. I don’t ever want to see myself back there.”
Kgothatso’s childhood gave her the resilience she is known for today, and was also largely shaped by the birthmark on her face.
“I look different from other people. I have a birthmark that goes all the way to my head. My hair also has white patches. At home, I felt love and warmth, but outside, it was a whole different world. People saw me as different and started calling me names. And I think that’s why I also started seeing myself as different.’
Until she was 19, Kgothatso would usually cover her birthmark with make-up, especially on social media.
“I’ve had social media pressure in such a way that I used to hide my birthmark. I used to post myself without it, just so people can see me look the same, look like everyone else looks.”
In 2010, a friend of hers introduced her to a modelling agency. “They actually told me that they couldn’t sign me with the birthmark. So every time there were castings, I had to cover it with make-up.”
Then when she turned 19, working as a model and studying towards an LLB, Kgothatso realised she had the power to own her story. “I was doing my first year and I was really tired. There’s a point where you literally just get tired. I got tired of putting on make-up, buying make-up.”
She speaks with conviction about the illusion of social media, “When people look at my pictures from back then and then look at me now, they say, ‘Where’s the make-up?’” she laughs. But the lighthearted comment reveals a truth: women — especially mothers — are under constant pressure to appear perfect. Dithebe’s refusal to conform to expectations is a radical act in itself.
“You know, social media is not real,” she continues. “And I always say, if you are being yourself, you’re putting something in the world that was never there before. Unless you want to be like everyone else. You see an expensive handbag or glamorous lifestyle on social media, and you think you want that. You don’t know the troubles going on behind closed doors.
“I may post glam pictures, like me and my husband going out for dinner. But probably we go out for dinner once a month. Or they are old pictures from a while back. Social media is not real life. That’s not how it works.”
As a successful model, with a law degree, also currently studying criminology, and being a wife and mother to two children under three years of age, Kgothatso speaks with the strength of experience, and also with humility.
Being bullied at a young age made her an introvert. “I did not have a lot of friends. And that taught me that you are on your own in life. You need to know that you are number one. You need to save up for yourself. You need to do things for yourself.”
She believes that more women need to “get up and do the work. Because no one is going to hand anything to us. No one.” She doesn’t say this with judgment. It’s the voice of someone who has walked the hard road herself, someone who knows the cost of pushing through the pain.
“I never take no for an answer,” she says with conviction. “There’s so much I still want to achieve. I like going beyond when they tell you ‘no’.”
What Kgothatso represents, then, is not only resilience, but the economic influence that mothers have.
Hers is far more than a gorgeous face. She is the face of a reality that can no longer be ignored: that mothers are not a liability to the economy, but an asset.