Johannes Radebe & John Whaite: The Dance That Healed a Family (and Rewrote Strictly History)

When the Strictly Come Dancing 2021 pairings were announced and Johannes Radebe learned he would be making history as part of the show’s first ever male-male couple, he felt a mixture of exhilaration and dread. Exhilaration because he knew the power of what they were about to do.

Dread because he knew exactly who would be watching from thousands of miles away in South Africa: his deeply traditional mother, Jacobeth, who had spent years pretending her son’s sexuality simply didn’t exist.

“I’ve been out for a long time, but in my family it was the elephant in the room nobody mentioned,” Johannes says, his trademark megawatt smile softening into something more fragile. “Love was there, yes, but acceptance? That was harder.”

So when he called home to tell his mum he would be dancing with 2020 Great British Bake Off champion John Whaite, he braced himself.

“Mama, this year I’m paired with a man.” Dead silence. “You’re… dancing with a man?” “Yes, Mama. His name is John. He’s lovely.” Another excruciating pause. Then, barely above a whisper: “Okay, my child.”

That single word hung in the air like smoke. Johannes knew what it really meant: We’ll see. I’m not ready for this.

But something extraordinary happened over the next twelve weeks. Week by week, dance by dance, Jacobeth Silakoe watched her son glide, spin, and soar across the Strictly floor in the arms of another man, and slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, her heart began to crack open.

The turning point came after their Week 3 Argentine tango: sharp, intense, unapologetically sensual. The following morning Johannes’s phone lit up.

“My mum called me at 7 a.m., practically shouting down the line, ‘Johannes! That was beautiful! You were flying!’ I nearly dropped the phone. I said, ‘Mama, are you crying?’ And she was. She actually was.”

From that moment on, the weekly phone calls became ritual. She began messaging the family WhatsApp group with screenshots of Johannes and John mid-lift.

She told her church friends in Vanderbijlpark, “My son is on TV in England, dancing with his partner John, they’re the best ones!” For the first time in his adult life, Johannes felt truly seen by the woman who raised him.

“This is bigger than any trophy,” he says now, eyes glistening. “I came into this competition thinking I had something to prove to the world. Turns out the person I most needed to reach was my own mother. And somehow, through the language of dance, we found each other again.”

John Whaite, softly spoken and self-deprecating, never imagined he would be the catalyst for such profound family reconciliation.

“When they told me I’d be partnered with Johannes, my first thought was ‘I hope I don’t let him down,’” John laughs. “My second thought was ‘Oh God, the internet is going to have opinions.’ But from the first day in the rehearsal room, something clicked. We just fit.”

Physically, the pairing was revolutionary. Johannes, who had spent fifteen years leading women in ballroom and Latin, suddenly had to learn how to follow, how to be lifted, how to trust someone else to take his weight both literally and emotionally.

“There were moments I’d be upside down in John’s arms thinking, ‘I have never felt this vulnerable on a dance floor in my life,’” Johannes recalls. “But vulnerability turned into strength.

Every time he caught me, every time he lifted me clean into the air, it was like he was saying, ‘I’ve got you.’ And I realised: this is what acceptance feels like.”

For John, a man who has been open about his own mental health struggles and the pressures of fame after winning Bake Off, the partnership became a masterclass in unlearning shame.

“Every week we’d go out there and millions would watch two men hold each other, gaze into each other’s eyes, move as one,” he says. “And the audience cheered louder than ever. People wrote to us saying they’d come out to their parents because of our dances.

Children told us they felt less alone. That’s when you realise entertainment can be activism without ever preaching.”

Their standout moments are now etched into Strictly folklore: the sultry Week 5 Rumba that left Shirley Ballas speechless; the hilarious air-hostess Quickstep that had the judges in stitches; the devastatingly beautiful Couple’s Choice to Adele’s “Hometown Glory,” during which Johannes broke down in tears at the end, overwhelmed by what the journey had already given him.

Even the professional dancers were moved. “I’ve been on this show for years and I’ve never felt energy in the ballroom like I did during their performances,” says Oti Mabuse. “It wasn’t just technically brilliant; it was healing. You could feel it.”

As the final looms, with only Rose Ayling-Ellis & Giovanni Pernice standing between them and the glitterball (after the heartbreaking withdrawal of AJ Odudu and Kai Widdrington), the pressure is immense. Bookmakers have John and Johannes as slight favourites, but both men insist the result is almost irrelevant now.

“Winning would be lovely,” John smiles. “But we’ve already changed the show forever. Same-sex couples will never be a ‘novelty’ again; they’ll just be part of Strictly. That’s our legacy.”

For Johannes, the legacy is even more personal.

“Last week my mum sent me a voice note,” he says, pulling out his phone with trembling hands. “She said, ‘My boy, I am so proud of you. Not just because you dance beautifully, but because you are brave. I see you now.

I really see you.’ I played it on loop and cried like a baby.”

He wipes away a tear and laughs through it. “So forgive me if I don’t care too much about who lifts that trophy on Saturday night. My mum lifted something much heavier: years of silence, fear, and distance. And she laid it down at my feet.”

“In the end,” Johannes whispers, “John and I didn’t just dance together. We built a bridge. And my family finally walked across it to meet me on the other side.”

That, more than any perfect 40, more than any glitterball, is the real fairytale ending.