Soothing presence: Karyn White’s music lives in the country. Her voice has followed us through decades of
Sundays, heartbreaks, quiet moments and personal awakenings. Photo: Supplied
A good Sunday in my neighbourhood is never rushed. It starts with the familiar sounds of buckets filling with water, the hum of washing machines, radios fighting for dominance across fences and the smell of washing powder hanging in the air.
There is laundry, lots of cleaning and cooking. Someone is washing a car. Someone else is in the garden. Music is always playing, not too loud, just enough to let you know the day has its own rhythm.
Once the Sunday meal is cooked and the elders have eaten, the house settles into a quiet pause. That is when we get dressed for the final ritual of the day: going to the local establishment to enjoy the last few hours of Sunday.
The DJ understands the assignment. Old school R&B. You know what’s coming and you don’t mind. What you do know is also this: we are not leaving until the DJ plays Karyn White.
That is how deeply White’s music lives in South Africa. Her voice has followed us through decades of Sundays, heartbreaks, quiet moments and personal awakenings.
When I spoke to White over Zoom about her enduring relationship with South Africa, her new single You’re Gonna Want Me Back and her upcoming visit later this year, it felt less like an interview and more like catching up with someone who has always been present in our lives.
White is aware of the bond. When I ask what she thinks it is about her voice and storytelling that continues to resonate with people across generations and countries, her answer is grounded and reflective.
“I’m going to say that it’s honest,” she says.
“It’s coming from a truthful place. And I believe that every woman, all over the world, can relate to self-worth, loving yourself and standing up for yourself.
“That’s not something that belongs to one country or one culture. That’s a universal language. Love thyself. That message doesn’t age.”
Her latest single, You’re Gonna Want Me Back, fits neatly into that lineage. It does not sound like revenge. It does not sound like bitterness. Instead, it feels like a calm exhale, the moment you finally see things clearly. White explains that this was intentional.
“Superwoman was about strength,” she says. “This song is about discernment. It’s a soulful, classy grown-woman anthem. There’s power in restraint. It’s not loud confidence, it’s calm confidence.
“It’s not about proving anything or being angry. It’s that moment when you realise something has run its course and instead of forcing it, instead of fighting it, you choose yourself. You choose peace.”
She pauses before adding: “That’s what I’ve learnt since Super-woman came out 35 years ago. You don’t have to say it out loud. You don’t have to explain yourself. Just choose peace.”
For many South Africans, Superwoman arrived when we were too young to fully understand its message, yet it became an anthem anyway. Today, You’re Gonna Want Me Back feels like the next chapter, the same wisdom, now spoken with lived experience.
When I ask whether she is intentional about making music that speaks to different stages of a woman’s life, White says she doesn’t overthink it. “I don’t try to map it out,” she explains. “I just do my truth. But I think with songs like Superwoman or I’d Rather Be Alone, there was something about the vocal delivery that felt accessible. Every girl felt like she could sing it. It wasn’t too fancy or intimidating. And then as we grow, the message grows with us.”
What matters to her most, she says, is that women remember themselves. “I’m not trying to be a feminist in the textbook sense,” she adds.
“It always comes back to being the best version of yourself. Because when you do that, you’re a better mom, a better partner, a better woman in general.
“We give so much as women. We lead. We nurture. We pour out constantly. And sometimes we forget to pour back into ourselves.”
Beyond music, White has also embraced ownership through the Karyn White Enterprise, where she operates fully as a producer and entrepreneur. Stepping away from the spotlight for nearly two decades changed her relationship with success and creativity.
“When I walked away from the business for 18 years and came back, it really showed me what my superpowers were,” she says.
“Not just as an artist but as a woman. My drive. My focus. My discipline. I had lived in the spotlight for so long and then suddenly I wasn’t. That grounded me. It humbled me. It made me appreciate this journey in a completely different way.”
She believes audiences can feel that shift. “After shows, when I speak to people, they tell me they love how approachable I am. How real I am. I’m like an auntie to them,” she laughs.
“And I love that. I love hearing their stories and knowing I was part of their journey.”
Her connection to South Africa is particularly emotional. Having visited the country eight or nine times, White says each trip deepens the bond.
She works closely with South African musicians, many from Cape Town and she involves them directly in shaping her live shows.
“It’s really important to me not to come to South Africa thinking I know what South Africa wants,” she says.
“I need them to be my eyes and ears. This time around, the show feels different. It’s more stretched out. More musical. More emotional. Of course, there are the classics but there are also deep cuts, songs I didn’t realise meant so much here.”
What continues to surprise her is the depth of South Africa’s love for her catalogue.
“I had no idea my music was still being played like this,” she says.
“From the first album to the last. That kind of evergreen love? That was the greatest blessing of my career. Especially because coming back from the States was tough. You have to prove yourself again. But South Africa just opened its arms.”
She pauses, clearly moved. “That kind of love doesn’t happen to every American artist. And I’ll never forget it. You will always hold first place in my heart.”
As our conversation comes to an end, I ask her what she would say to someone listening to You’re Gonna Want Me Back on a quiet Sunday, trying to find the courage to let go.
“I want them to walk away feeling validated,” she says.
“Feeling grounded. Reminded that choosing yourself is always the win. And it’s not just for women. Anyone can take that energy and apply it to their life.”
And maybe that is why, when the DJ finally plays Karyn White and the sun starts to dip, we don’t rush to leave. Because her music understands Sundays. It understands endings. And it understands the quiet power of choosing yourself.