The DA's rising star on her Zulu roots, a schoolgirl urge to be Jewish, and how politics hurts her mother

FROM an idyllic childhood in Swaziland to the harsh reality of apartheid South Africa, Lindiwe Mazibuko was always determined to make her mark. An achiever at school, she toured the world with her school choir before obtaining a BMus degree at the University of KwaZulu-Natal. That was followed by a BA in 2006 and an Honours in political communication in 2007.

Fitting in isn't always easy. Until I was six, I lived a blissful life in Swaziland where my dad was a banker and my late grandfather had been an Anglican bishop. Coming back to Umlazi in KwaZulu-Natal was a huge shock. But my parents were certain of one thing - we wouldn't have Bantu education. This meant enrolling us in a Jewish primary school, Carmel College, where somehow I found, as children do, a way of fitting in. We were certainly in the minority with a few Indian and other black pupils. Eventually, when I started talking about converting to Judaism, they pulled me out.

Your high school days are so precious. I loved St. Mary's DSG in Kloof where I boarded. Everyone was as hungry to learn as I was. They had the most wonderful choir which saw me travelling to amazing places such as Russia and other Eastern Bloc countries - an eye-opening experience.

A job isn't always just a job. One Sunday I was flipping through the Sunday Times and there was an advert with a big blue DA logo saying they were looking for a researcher in parliament. I thought, "I've just spent a year studying this party; I quite like what I hear, maybe they'll hire me." It was also a chance to see whether politics was for me.

Mentorship is vital. Being a black woman is never going to be an easy ride in government, but that won't stop me. I will reach for more ladders.

You can't take things personally as a politician. If I want to know what I've done in the last week I just go on Twitter. There will be comments on where I went, what I wore and my hairstyle.

Your mother will always defend you. I called my mother recently and she said she hadn't slept the night before because she heard remarks about me and it was weird for her to have a child out there and to have complete strangers insult her child on national television and not to be able to do anything about it ...

It's hard to relax - even at a braai. When I'm with old friends it's easy but there will always be someone who says "tell us about Julius Malema".

My accent doesn't define me. My Zulu tradition is important to me. How traditional am I? As traditional as my mother wants me to be. It's a way of connecting with my family. My "extended" family threw me a pre-election party where we slaughtered an animal.

Some traditions must change with the times. I'm a fierce feminist and feel culture must evolve. If something such as paying lobola entrenches sexism or inequality I'm not comfortable perpetuating it. I think it's legitimate to say we can do without this tradition. Lobola is a bridge I'm not ready to cross yet. Right now my career comes first.