Renaé Mangena talks to us about her latest film,Colour Me Blue, vulnerability, mental health, friendship and the importance of trusting audiences with unfinished stories.
“Every story and every person is worthy of being seen” – Renaé Mangena.
Renaé Mangena has spent her career asking who gets to tell Black stories, and how. A film and television graduate turned filmmaker, producer and creative strategist. She’s the founder of iQHAWE Magazine and also currently the managing director of iQHAWE Media, a creative agency working across campaigns and publishing.
Her documentary Sonder won Best South African Short Documentary at the 2026 Encounters South African International Documentary Festival and her short film Potlako has travelled to festivals across Africa and beyond.
Her latest project, Colour Me Blue, is a narrative series still in development under Yellow Rose Productions, written by Karabo Mokoena. The story follows a group of estranged friends reunited by tragedy, and uses that reunion to sit with something South Africa doesn’t talk about enough: the quiet weight of mental health and emotional isolation among young people.
The proof of concept is complete and is currently being shown to focus groups as part of the project’s development, a small but deliberate first step toward the full series. We sat down with Mangena after one of those screenings to talk about restraint as a storytelling tool, the discomfort of sharing unfinished work, and what she hopes audiences carry with them once the credits roll.
Your films seem to ask audiences to look beyond what’s immediately visible. How do you decide what to reveal, and what to deliberately leave unsaid?
I have always been drawn to films that trust their audience. I don’t enjoy work that feels the need to over-explain every emotion or spell out every detail on screen. As a director, it was important to approach Colour Me Blue with that same philosophy. I wanted to create space for people to bring their own experiences, emotions, and interpretations into the story. Sometimes what is left unsaid can be just as powerful as what is spoken. Leaving certain moments open allows the audience to actively participate in the storytelling, to imagine, question, and continue thinking about the characters long after the credits roll. For me, that’s where some of the most meaningful conversations begin.
Many of your stories sit with emotionally complex subjects without trying to neatly resolve them. As a filmmaker, what draws you to that kind of storytelling?
To be quite honest, I don’t think I consciously go looking for those stories, I think they find me. I’m interested in people, and people are rarely simple. Life doesn’t always offer neat endings or clear answers, so I don’t feel compelled to force that into my work either. I’m more interested in exploring the messy, uncomfortable, and deeply human spaces that we often avoid talking about. I think there’s something incredibly honest about allowing characters to exist in that uncertainty, because that’s often where we find ourselves in real life. Having Karabo to hold my hand on this was so phenomenal because it felt like a space where we could hold each other’s hand and make this a reality.
You describe Colour Me Blue as an invitation to be part of a story before the world sees it. What made you embrace the vulnerability of sharing a proof of concept instead of waiting for the finished series?
If I’m being completely honest, vulnerability has never come naturally to me. Sharing a proof of concept before the series is complete felt incredibly exposing because it meant inviting people into something that was still evolving. Stepping into the role of director required me to confront parts of myself that I don’t always feel comfortable sharing, and that was challenging. There were moments where I questioned whether I was enough or whether the work was ready to be seen. But through that process, I realised that vulnerability isn’t about having everything figured out t’s about allowing yourself to be seen despite the uncertainty. Looking back, it became a deeply reflective experience, and one that ultimately reminded me why I wanted to tell this story in the first place. But if it wasn’t for Karabo Mokoena, the Creative Producer trusting me to do this job, I doubt I would have been able to trust myself.
I realised that vulnerability isn’t about having everything figured out t’s about allowing yourself to be seen despite the uncertainty.
The series explores mental health, but it also seems to be about community, relationships and the weight people carry in private. What conversations were you hoping to spark beyond the topic of mental health itself?
More than anything, I hope Colour Me Blue creates space for honest and compassionate conversations. Mental health isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience, and I think we sometimes fall into the trap of trying to apply one solution or one narrative to everyone. The series acknowledges that everyone’s journey is different, shaped by their relationships, communities, lived experiences, and the things they carry quietly every day. I hope people walk away with a little more empathy, not just for themselves but for those around them, and a greater understanding that healing can look very different from one person to the next.
As both a director and producer, how do those two roles challenge each other? Is there ever a moment when the producer in you has to negotiate with the director?
I always joke that the Gemini in me makes it easier to switch between different roles. The producer in me is constantly thinking about budgets, timelines, logistics, and making sure everything is actually possible, while the director in me is dreaming without limits. They definitely have conversations, sometimes even arguments but I think that’s healthy. The producer helps ground my creative ideas in reality, while the director reminds me not to lose sight of the vision. Finding that balance has become one of the most rewarding parts of the process.
You founded iQHAWE Media while continuing to direct your own work. What gaps in the industry were you hoping to address by building your own platform?
I wanted to create the kind of platform I wish existed when I was starting out. Access to funding, mentorship, industry networks, and opportunities can often determine who gets to tell their stories, and too many talented young creatives are left out of those conversations. Through iQHAWE Media, I hope to create more pathways for emerging filmmakers and storytellers, while also reminding them that their voices matter. I want people to feel that their stories are worthy of being told, regardless of where they come from or how unconventional those stories may seem.
If someone who had never encountered your work watched Colour Me Blue, what would you hope they understood about you as a storyteller by the time the credits rolled?
I hope they leave knowing that I genuinely care about the people who have trusted me with personhood. I care about their fears, their insecurities, their dreams, their flaws, and the parts of themselves they struggle to understand. I don’t see characters as plot devices; I see them as people. My hope is that audiences feel that care in every frame, and that even if they don’t personally relate to a character’s experience, they can recognise a part of themselves in their humanity. At the heart of everything I make is a desire to remind people that every story and every person is worthy of being seen.
At the heart of everything I make is a desire to remind people that every story and every person is worthy of being seen.
