BWSS rewrites the Twentysomething guidebook

……Bafazi the revolution will not be clickbaited

There is a distinct, exhausting frequency to modern media aimed at young women. Scroll through social platforms or check the top podcast charts, and you are hit with an avalanche of shock-value confessionals, hyper-polished lifestyles, or tabloid-style teardowns disguised as empowerment.

 

It is a formula designed to provoke rather than relate. It leaves listeners, well, at least me, feeling vaguely empty, slightly judged, and intensely aware of what they lack. Then came Because We Said So (BWSS). Hosted by South African digital creators Zama Marubelela and Landzy Gama, this video podcast has quietly disrupted the digital landscape. 

They do not operate on manufactured outrage. They do not claim to have the chaotic twentysomething experience perfectly figured out. Instead, they sit across from one another, mugs in hand sometimes champagne, brutal fruit, well, who cares and pull back the curtain on contemporary girlhood with a rare blend of warmth and sharp intellect.

In a digital economy that rewards superficial hot takes, Because We Said So honestly feels like an assembly line of refreshing content and like a Sunday afternoon living room debrief with your sharpest, most trusted friends.

 It is structured, insightful, and profoundly grounded. The global podcasting ecosystem has long pointed to the unapologetic, sex-positive, culture-shifting rise of Alex Cooper’s Call Her Daddy as the definitive blueprint for millennial and Gen-Z female broadcasting.

 BWSS is forging a parallel revolution. They have tailored a space specifically for a generation of young African women demanding substance over sensation. I will have you know, in their latest episode they featured their first male guest, Go, Girls!

Beyond the tabloid noise

To understand the cultural resonance of Because We Said So, you must look at how it intentionally deviates from dominant media formats. For years, the gold standard of female-led independent audio has leaned heavily into a shock-and-awe template. 

Shows built in the shadow of major international productions often rely on hyper-provocative relational templates, highly sensationalised dating advice, or a revolving door of micro-influencers trading rumours.

They operate on clipping culture, creating a highly inflammatory ten-second audio snippet designed to cause a stir on social platforms, even if it entirely misrepresents the actual depth of the conversation.
Zama and Landzy have actively rejected this path. 

During their landmark episode celebrating 365 days of broadcasting in May, the duo openly discussed the anxieties of navigating modern internet culture. 
They touched upon the reality of ‘clipping culture’ where bad-faith actors deliberately take a nuanced point out of context to manufacture a controversy. Their response to that systemic pressure? To double down on long-form, deeply contextual conversations.

The pair explicitly argue that long-form video content remains a vital, lucrative space precisely because it allows for intellectual breathing room. Instead of feeding the algorithmic beast with rage-bait, they use short-form clips merely as structural signposts to guide audiences into their deeper, more reflective hour-long YouTube episodes. 

They do not treat their listeners like consumers to be shocked; they treat them like peers to be respected. The result is a media product that feels clean, intentional, and entirely removed from the exhausting cynicism of typical digital tabloids.

A Twentysomething guide to living unfiltered

At its core, BWSS serves as an evolving, multi-chapter survival guide for young women manoeuvring through their twenties. The show tackles topics that are frequently commodified or flattened elsewhere, treating them with a mixture of academic rigour and casual, sisterly intimacy. Consider their dissection of the ‘Pick-Me’ Problem. While the internet frequently uses the term ‘pick-me’  as a lazy weapon to insult or mock women online, Zama and Landzy took the conversation deeper, unpacking the structural roots of internalised misogyny. 

They analysed how young women are systematically conditioned to seek validation through a patriarchal lens, often at the direct expense of female solidarity.
Similarly, their episodes have tackled the intricate, often painful tightrope of navigating family approval in your twenties. For many young Black women navigating corporate upward mobility, shifting cultural norms, or personal independence, balancing ancestral or familial expectations with personal autonomy is an emotional minefield.

BWSS doesn't offer a trite ‘just ignore them’  answer; they hold space for the grief, the guilt, and the necessity of drawing healthy adult boundaries. The show also balances heavy sociology with brilliant, highly relatable communal breakdowns. They offer hilarious yet incredibly practical blueprints on managing group travel dynamics, parsing through chaotic group chats, handling differing financial realities among friends, and managing dominant personalities without fracturing the sisterhood.

Whether discussing if female friends need to match your aesthetic or breaking down the cultural hits and misses of major red carpets, the analysis is always sharp, witty, and entirely free of malicious pretence.

The couch confessionals

While the chemistry between Zama and Landzy remains the undisputed anchor of the channel, their curation of guest appearances has elevated the show into an essential cultural archive. When high-profile African media personalities sit on the BWSS couch, the tone shifts away from standard, sterile press-junket styles and moves into something deeply revelatory.

Linda Mtoba: The award-winning actress and entrepreneur completely bypassed typical glossy talking points on her episode. She spoke with immense vulnerability about her ten-year journey in the entertainment industry, reflecting on her very first acting roles, the intense vulnerability of filming intimate scenes right after having her baby, and the profound reality of building a lasting career through consistent management rather than overnight viral fame.

Nomzamo Mbatha: The international actress and humanitarian stepped into the space not to pitch a project, but to engage in an honest cross-generational dialogue about resilience, global visibility, and what it truly costs a young woman to build a self-sustained empire from the ground up.

Nadia Nakai: One of African hip-hop's most prominent figures sat down for an episode that offered a masterclass in navigating public scrutiny, carving out a distinct identity within male-dominated industries, and maintaining personal boundaries while living under a permanent media microscope.
By creating an environment that feels genuinely safe and entirely free from the threat of sensationalised headlines, Zama and Landzy extract stories of human connection, imposter syndrome, and strategic triumph that standard media outlets rarely access.

The 100K milestone, proof of concept

The media industry has spent years claiming that audiences have lost their attention spans, asserting that long-form talk formats are dead unless they feature explosive, scandalous revelations. The rapid ascent of Because We Said So completely demolishes that thesis.

The podcast recently hit a monumental milestone, officially crossing 100,000 subscribers on YouTube. For an independent, women-led production based in South Africa that focuses entirely on nuanced, grounded, and empowering conversations, this is not just a numerical victory; it is a profound proof of concept. 

It proves that there is a massive, fiercely loyal audience of young women who are desperately hungry for substance. They don't want to watch women tearing each other down for clicks, nor do they want a heavily sanitised, out-of-touch version of adulthood. They want the truth, delivered with love, intelligence, and a healthy dose of humour. 

By creating a literal and figurative safe space for girls, by girls, Zama and Landzy have built more than just a successful digital show; they have galvanised a community of "bwssties" who finally feel seen, heard, and understood in a world that so often tries to minimise their experiences.

Because We Said So is a reminder of what broadcasting looks like when it retains its human heart. It proves that a podcast doesn't need to be loud, toxic, or sensational to be completely revolutionary. Sometimes, all it takes to shift the culture is two best friends, an unwavering commitment to authenticity, and the courage to speak their truth simply because they said so.

The agony aunts of Gen-Z, Dilemma time 

What truly cements Because We Said So as a modern survival guide is their signature dilemma segment. In nearly every episode, Zama and Landzy transition from cultural commentary to real-world problem-solving, unpacking roughly five anonymous dilemmas submitted by their listeners. 

They do not claim to be licensed therapists, corporate HR executives, or professional family counsellors, and they do not hide behind a facade of clinical expertise. Instead, they approach every submission with the raw, constructive honesty of a trusted confidante.

 The range of topics is remarkably vast and heavy, one minute they are parsing through messy workplace politics and toxic friendship breakups, and the next they are holding incredibly tender space for listeners processing the deep, lingering pain of fatherhood wounds or absent parents. 

Because they do not approach these letters as content to be mocked or sensationalised for clicks, their advice lands with profound weight. They look at a listener's crisis, pull it apart with emotional intelligence, and offer a grounded, actionable perspective that balances absolute empathy with tough love.

It is a masterclass in communal healing, proving that you do not need letters behind your name to offer a lifeline to a young woman trying to navigate her way through the dark.