In the wake of the tragic and sudden passing of South African media giant DJ Warras on December 16, 2025, the nation’s attention has shifted from the shock of the crime to the emotionally charged scenes at his memorial service.

Among the various tributes shared at the ceremony on December 19, none sparked as much polarized debate as the speech delivered by Pearl Thusi.

The actress and “Queen Sono” star found herself at the center of a social media firestorm after sharing a deeply personal, intimate anecdote about a night she spent with the late DJ.

Thusi recounted a time after a show in Cape Town when Warras, allegedly anxious about oversleeping and missing an early flight, insisted they share a hotel room.

She detailed how Warras asked for a “cuddle,” which she agreed to while placing pillows between them as a barrier, framing the moment as a platonic, sibling-like act of comfort during a vulnerable time for her friend.

The reaction from “Mzansi” was immediate and largely critical, with many social media users labeling the story as “inappropriate” and “disrespectful” to Warras’ children and his partner who were in attendance.

Norma Mansoor, mother of rapper Chad Da Don and a family friend, publicly slammed the speech as “pathetic” and “attention-seeking,” suggesting that Thusi had crossed a line in the pursuit of making the moment about herself.

However, amidst the intense backlash and Thusi’s own visible hurt—where she tweeted that “people are really cruel” and that their words were painful—a different perspective has emerged from Life Coach Lundy and DJ Zinhle.

Coach Lundy has stepped forward to challenge the public’s “ready to attack” mentality, arguing that society often focuses on the receiver of a behavior rather than the initiator.

Lundy’s analysis suggests that there was nothing inherently wrong with Thusi’s tribute because it was an authentic memory of the man she knew—a man who, in that specific moment, saw her as a “safe space.

” The coach pointed out that if Warras felt he could ask for a platonic cuddle, it was a testament to his character and the safety he felt in their friendship, rather than an indictment of Thusi’s judgment in sharing it.

Lundy further argued that “a person who wants to have a respectable funeral must live a respectable life,” suggesting that the stories shared at a memorial are simply reflections of the life the deceased chose to lead.

If the story felt uncomfortable for some, Lundy posits that it is a reflection of society’s own moral anxieties and discomfort with non-traditional forms of male vulnerability.

DJ Zinhle, a close friend of Thusi, added her weight to this defensive front by commenting on Lundy’s video, stating that she “appreciated the totally different perspective” being offered.

Zinhle’s public alignment with her friend suggests a pushback against the “trolling” and “dragging” that has dominated South African digital platforms for the past several days.

The coach’s perspective highlights a rare affirming detail: in a country struggling with high rates of gender-based violence, a woman describing a man as a “safe space” where “nothing funny happened” is actually a profound compliment.

According to this view, the public deliberately chose to ignore the positive aspect of the story—that Warras was a man who could be intimate without being predatory.

The debate has now become a broader conversation about the etiquette of public mourning and whether authenticity should trump traditional boundaries at a memorial service.

Critics maintain that some memories are better left in private, especially when children are present, while supporters argue that grief should not be “policed” or edited for social media approval.

Pearl Thusi’s speech has moved beyond a simple tribute; it has become a sociological marker for how South Africans view friendship, fidelity, and the public expression of private moments.

As Thusi expressed her regret for the offense caused while simultaneously being “really hurt” by the cruelty of the comments, the intervention of Coach Lundy and DJ Zinhle provides a much-needed nuance to the narrative.

It suggests that while the delivery might have been “freestyled” and perhaps misplaced for the venue, the intent was one of honoring a unique, platonic bond that few could understand.

The tragedy of DJ Warras’ death remains the central story, but the fallout from his memorial has exposed deep-seated tensions in how the nation manages the legacy of its fallen stars.

With two suspects already arrested and due in court for the murder, many are hoping the public focus will soon shift back to the pursuit of justice for the Stock family.

Until then, the “cuddle” anecdote remains a viral point of contention, serving as a reminder that in the age of social media, even the most human moments of grief are subject to the harshest of edits.

Life Coach Lundy’s defense of “remembering the part that stood out for you” offers a more compassionate lens through which to view Thusi’s tearful vulnerability.

And as DJ Zinhle supports this alternative view, it reminds us that friendship, like grief, is rarely as neat as the public demands it to be.

The conversation continues to trend across X, TikTok, and Facebook, with Mzansi remaining deeply divided on whether Thusi was a “bad friend” or simply a “misunderstood mourner.”

In the end, the most important voices are those of the family, who are left to carry the memory of Warrick Stock long after the social media noise has faded.

May the debate eventually lead to a more nuanced understanding of how we support those in mourning, even when their words “don’t behave” as we expect.

South Africa’s entertainment community continues to grapple with the loss of one of its most vibrant sons, even as the tribute to his life remains “caught in the crossfire.”