What does it mean to be a South African?
I am a South African. I know this because it says so on my passport but more so because I feel it. Yet repeatedly there are calls by individuals who purport to understand my identity more than I do; who tell me that I have greater affiliations with Europe than I do with Africa. I often am embarrassed and shy away from the fact that my father is British in the hope that I can prove that I am really African. I will say to people that I was born in South Africa, that my mother was born in South Africa and that my grandmother was born in South Africa. I will try and argue that I feel no affiliation towards a continent that I have barely touched (which is the truth) yet many people will simply not accept that my roots are African and that I am an African, purely because of the colour of my skin.
A discussion arose organically among my fellow SAWIPers last week Thursday. I don't think any of us could truly have anticipated its impact. The discussion was around the very realness of a struggle of identity and of acceptance that we have ALL gone through. Through five weeks of building foundations of mutual trust and respect we were finally able to share our thoughts on identity shorn of any embarrassment or fears of rebuke. I would like to share with you some of the sentiments that arose, hopefully without disrespecting the space in which this conversation took place.
Our South African history has made it difficult to be proud to be Afrikaans. As a result one sees very little of Afrikaans culture being protected. There are also very few (or no) good Afrikaans leaders in the community. A few right-wingers purport to represent the Afrikaans people to the detriment of their perception nationally. This is noted with great sadness among many Afrikaans people and is largely responsible for my own prejudices. There are also Afrikaans people who abhor the singing of ‘de la Rey’ just as much as the ‘shoot the boer’ song. While they acknowledge the significance of such songs in the struggle they feel that both songs are divisive and detrimental to nation building. It was powerful for me to see that there was little hypocrisy in what my dear friend shared. There clearly needs to be a lot more dialogue on the issue, something a court order will never be able to legitimately replace.
Far too many White South Africans are quick to shirk responsibility of the Apartheid legacy onto the shoulders of their parents and their grandparents claiming that they did nothing. Too many White South Africans do not understand that the burden is ours. It is ours in so far as Black South Africans, of our generation, carry the burden. Which they do. White South Africans need not apologise for being White but their needs to be a conscious effort of noting the privileges gained by virtue of the accident of birth. Yes, most White South Africans are privileged by virtue of being born into a White family, you are not where you are today through the fruits of mere hard labour (a VERY common misconception). You are where you are today because of massive exploitation of enforced cheap labour, you went to a good school, you had teachers who were not taught by Bantu Education and who could teach you on Higher Grade, you had literate parents who could help you with your homework, you had food in your stomach so that you could concentrate in class and you had access to books in case you wanted to look up something. Once that privilege is noted, White South Africans must acknowledge their responsibilities and actively participate in skills training, growing the economy, investing in future generations and doing all they can do to ensure a prosperous nation for all those who reside in South Africa. Acknowledging however, that it is all people who reside in South Africa who should work towards this vision.
Being a successful Black South African comes with its own burdens. If you are successful it is assumed that you are where you are today because of BEE deals and not through hard work. If you spend money on ‘things’ then you are not looking after the working class and you are a traitor, ridiculed even in the media. Julius Malema asked a pertinent question “Who must have these things?” People are surprised when you talk and are quick to so-calledly compliment you as ‘very articulate’, negating the value of what you are actually saying. It is then assumed that you have abandoned your culture, that you are a ‘coconut’, not black enough to be accepted in the black community and not white enough to be accepted into the white community.
Being Jewish, Muslim or Hindu in South Africa often means that you operate within an insular community or you are not accepted at all. If you speak out against Israel then you are anti-Semitic, rejected and told you are not a real Jew. The Coloured community in South Africa is so diverse that very few feel that they have an identity. Their eclectic past gives them such diversity that they are constantly told they must celebrate it but end up celebrating it for sakes sake with very little meaning behind it. They often feel left out of South African discussions, they urge South Africans to not see things in black and white but to remember the grey.
Progressive Whites often have a difficult time too. They are not White enough to be accepted into the White community, nor are they Black enough to be accepted into the Black community. They are embarrassed by those who share their skin colour who presume that they can talk on behalf of ‘all’. They are frequently faced with racist remarks or jokes because the colour of their skin assumes that it will be acceptable. They are aware of the racism that is still ever pervasive because people don't hide it from them. They then have to constantly reaffirm their progressive views in Black communities so as to reassure that they genuinely believe in what they are saying. Always conscious of how, what they have to say will be received.
We all share pains and challenges that we own because of our identity; whether it be the identity that is imposed upon us or identities that we chose to affiliate with. So why do I push so hard to prove that I am an African? What is it about this nationalistic identity that I long for? If I purport to be committed to human rights, that commitment has to transcend national boundaries and accept all people by virtue of them being human. Surely? I have said before that my nation building rhetoric is fuelled by the South African story that I feel epitomises the right to equality. On a localised level I strive for people to transcend their racial or religious affiliations, to find commonality in something and that something, for now, is what I consider being South African. My argument for this overarching unifying identity is to not be at the expense of other people living within this country’s borders. That is, when nation building becomes exclusionary and destructive, that is when I can no longer support it.









