JOHANNESBURG, South Africa — Winnie Madikizela-Mandela is one of the most revered —and controversial — women in South African history, but to her grandchildren the anti-apartheid icon was always just their beloved 'Big Mommy.'
Now two of Mandela's granddaughters are reexamining her divisive legacy in a new Netflix documentary series called The Trials of Winnie Mandela, currently only available in Africa.
In the trailer for the series, sisters Princess Swati Dlamini-Mandela and Princess Zaziwe Mandela-Manaway acknowledge they have set themselves a hard task, asking, "How do you ask your grandmother, are you a murderer, are you a kidnapper?'"
But they think they managed to present an unbiased portrayal of Winnie in the series.
"I'm so proud of this work, because it is not just a myopic view of a person that we love, but also who is complex, and has had a complex history," says Dlamini-Mandela, 47.
While Nelson Mandela became South Africa's first Black president and a global icon — having spent 27 years in jail for his role in the fight against apartheid — his wife Winnie, who was arguably just as instrumental in that fight, has been widely maligned.
That's because Winnie is accused of encouraging some of the worst Black-on-Black violence in the townships during apartheid in the 1980s.
A gang of youths associated with her, called the Mandela United Football Club, were responsible for vigilante abductions and killings of those suspected of being government informers – even children.
In 1997, she appeared in front of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission established by the new government to investigate crimes committed during apartheid.
After being pressed by the Desmond Tutu, who led the commission, she said: "Things went horribly wrong…for that I am deeply sorry." The commission found her "politically and morally accountable" for the crimes committed by her gang of bodyguards.
Even though the Netflix show is only being released now, filming of the documentary started before Winnie's death in 2018 aged 81. So she gets to answer for herself.
"Our grandfather's painted as a saint, and our grandmother's painted as a sinner," Dlamini-Mandela says.
"And we ask her that question…what do you think about that? And she says, well, who is anyone to say, whether you're saint or a sinner, that's between me and my God."
What is clear is that Winnie's commitment to the struggle came at great personal cost.
When Mandela was imprisoned, she was left not only to raise their children alone, but to carry on his activism – which she did fearlessly.
She became such a thorn in the side of the apartheid state that she was regularly targeted.
In 1969 she was put in solitary confinement for 491 days and tortured. She says in the documentary of that time: "The 18 months in solitary confinement, it left scars nothing can heal."
She was jailed numerous times in the decades that followed, with her Soweto home frequently raided in the dead of night. Ultimately, she was exiled to the remote town of Brandfort, in the Free State, in a harsh attempt to stifle her influence and activism.
Despite the brutal treatment and constant humiliations, she never gave up.
But she was criticized for her increasing militancy, even within her African National Congress party. Especially for a speech she gave in 1986 appearing to condone the brutal township punishment of "necklacing" used on alleged police collaborators.
In South Africa, "necklacing" was a brutal form of killing in which a car tyre was forced over a person's chest and shoulders and set alight.
She was also villainized for alleged romantic affairs while her husband was in jail. When Mandela was released, their marriage faltered, ending in a divorce in 1996 for which she was mostly blamed.
Reassessing Winnie through a feminist lens
"I wholeheartedly don't believe that a male comrade would've waited 27 years for a wife's return. The alleged affair feels like something they used against her in order to vilify her," says Momo Matsunyane, who directed a recent play in Johannesburg, "The Cry of Winnie Mandela," which sought to rehabilitate her image.
In recent years, a new generation of young South Africans like Matsunyane have begun to reassess Winnie's legacy from a feminist perspective.
When she died in 2018, thousands mourned all night outside her home. There are now t-shirts with her face on them, street murals, and a major Johannesburg road named after her.
"It's true to say that she may have been involved in some events that occurred that made her seem ruthless," Matsunyane says.
But she adds it doesn't have to be a false dichotomy.
"It's also true that she was fiercely resilient in the face of a greatly violent and inhumane system. She put her life and body on the line for the fight for freedom."
Aside from her renewed status as a revolutionary icon, what are her granddaughters' most cherished memories of her?
"God, there's so many," says Mandela-Manaway. "I mean, her cooking for us in the kitchen on Sunday lunches … giving me hugs, giving me advice, talking to her about anything."
Despite growing up in turbulent times, the sisters — now both in their late forties — weren't that politically aware until they were young adults.
"We were kids, so we didn't realize that we were Nelson and Winnie's grandchildren," Mandela-Manaway says. "Not like...we knew that these were political figures who were known across the world. We had no idea."
But much as their mother Zenani – Winnie and Nelson's first daughter – tried to normalize things for them, it was an unusual childhood.
"And we literally were like, we only had each other, because no one wanted to be associated with us," the sisters say. "Being cool... Mandela became cool after."
When she died, the hashtag #SheDidn'tDieSheMultiplied trended on South African social media.
"There are a lot of young women who identify with the spirit of Mama Winnie," says theater director Matsunyane.
