In the ever-evolving cultural landscape of South Africa, the intersection of traditional heritage and modern identity often sparks fierce debate, and the recent controversy surrounding Dominic Zaca is no exception.

Zaca recently “broke the internet” after appearing in stunning traditional Zulu attire, known as imvunulo, a move that was intended to celebrate royalty and heritage but instead ignited a firestorm of social media discourse.

The reaction to Zaca’s appearance highlights a deep-seated tension within the Zulu community regarding who has the right to wear specific traditional garments and how they should be presented.

A viral video response to Zaca’s outfit has brought these tensions to the forefront, with the speaker accusing him of seeking attention rather than showing genuine respect for the culture.

The speaker draws a sharp comparison between Zaca and the famous media personality Somizi Mhlongo, who is known for his flamboyant style but is also praised for his deep respect for Zulu kings and traditions.

The critique leveled against Zaca is deeply personal and cultural, with the speaker suggesting that he is overstepping his boundaries as an “elder” or a “grandfather” figure.

In Zulu culture, age and social standing come with specific expectations of conduct, and the speaker argues that Zaca’s “fabulous” or “attention-seeking” behavior is inappropriate for a man of his maturity.

The speaker goes as far as to criticize Zaca’s use of makeup and his desire to be referred to as “Gogo” rather than “Mkhulu,” suggesting a conflict between his gender identity and traditional Zulu masculine roles.

This debate touches on the sensitive issue of how LGBTQ+ identities navigate traditional spaces that have historically been very rigid and patriarchal.

Beyond the personal attacks, the controversy centers on the sacred nature of imvunulo and whether certain pieces are reserved exclusively for royalty or high-ranking traditional leaders.

The speaker questions why Zaca is being singled out when many others, including public figures like Ngizwe Mchunu, have worn similar attire without facing such a massive public backlash.

There is a pointed inquiry into the “double standards” of cultural policing, asking why it is acceptable for women to wear men’s traditional gear at weddings or events, yet Zaca is criticized for his display.

The speaker argues that the outrage against Zaca is fueled by “senseless hatred” rather than a genuine desire to protect Zulu culture or the dignity of the monarchy.

They suggest that Zaca is being targeted because he is “relevant” and successful, tapping into a common theme of “tall poppy syndrome” where those who stand out are cut down.

The mention of Zaca’s alleged influence and threats to have people fired from their jobs adds a layer of social politics to the drama, painting him as a polarizing figure of power.

However, the core of the issue remains the visual representation of the Zulu nation and whether Zaca’s “Royalty” look was an act of pride or an act of provocation.

To many, imvunulo is not just clothing; it is a spiritual connection to the ancestors and a symbol of national sovereignty that should not be used as a fashion statement or for “likes” on social media.

Yet, for a younger, more progressive generation, Zaca’s bold fusion of tradition and personal style represents a necessary evolution of culture in a democratic South Africa.

The speaker in the video remains unconvinced, calling Zaca’s behavior “disgusting” and accusing him of trying to “fit in” where he does not belong.

The tension is exacerbated by the fact that Zaca has been a prominent figure in the “Pride” movement, further complicating his relationship with conservative traditionalists.

The mention of Somizi again serves as a benchmark; the speaker implies that one can be wealthy and famous while still maintaining a “proper” level of respect for the ancestors and the crown.

The debate over Zaca’s imvunulo is ultimately a debate about the soul of Zulu identity in the 21st century.

Is the culture a static set of rules that must be guarded by gatekeepers, or is it a living, breathing entity that can accommodate diverse expressions of self? The social media frenzy shows that for many South Africans, these questions are far from settled and can provoke intense emotional responses.

The speaker’s aggressive tone reflects a broader anxiety about the perceived “dilution” of Zulu customs by modern influencers and celebrities.

They argue that Zaca should stay in his “level” and stop trying to manipulate public perception by associating himself with royalty.

The accusation that Zaca uses his wealth and “tenders” to buy influence is a common critique in South African public life, where economic power and cultural status often clash.

Despite the harsh criticism, Zaca’s images continue to circulate, proving that his attempt to “break the internet” was undeniably successful in terms of reach.

The controversy has forced a national conversation on the ethics of cultural appropriation within one’s own culture.

It also highlights the challenges faced by queer individuals who wish to embrace their heritage while being rejected by the very community they seek to honor.

The speaker concludes by telling Zaca to stop “bullying” people and to accept the reality of his position as an elder.

The viral nature of this conflict ensures that the discussion about imvunulo, royalty, and identity will continue to dominate the cultural discourse for some time.

As South Africa moves forward, the clash between the “old guard” of tradition and the “new wave” of individual expression will likely produce many more such “internet-breaking” moments.

The story of Dominic Zaca is a reminder that in a country with such a rich and complex history, even a choice of clothing can become a political and social battlefield.

The “royalty” Zaca sought to channel remains a sensitive and sacred concept that many are not yet ready to see reinterpreted through a modern, flamboyant lens.

Whether Zaca will respond to these critiques or continue to push the boundaries of traditional fashion remains to be seen.

What is certain is that the Zulu nation remains fiercely protective of its symbols and its stories.

The dialogue between the speaker and Zaca—though one-sided and hostile—reflects a society grappling with change.

It is a dialogue about who gets to hold the spear of tradition in a world that is rapidly moving away from the past.

In the end, the “imvunulo” worn by Zaca did more than just look good for the cameras; it exposed the fractures and the strengths of a culture in transition.

The “shame” or “pride” felt by the observers says as much about the audience as it does about the man in the photographs.

South Africa’s cultural tapestry is made of these very threads of conflict and celebration.

As the digital dust settles, the question remains: who truly owns the culture? The answer likely lies somewhere between the rigid rules of the past and the bold visions of the future.

Dominic Zaca has, for better or worse, placed himself at the very center of that unresolved question.

The internet may have “broken,” but the cultural conversation has only just begun.