The New Jim Crow – part Statistics

Just before tbV and i left Americaland last year August, i started reading ‘The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the age of Colorblindness’ by Michelle Alexander, a tough but brilliant read focusing on the system of mass incarceration of black people in Americaland. Then we had to leave and i had to give the book back having only read two or three chapters.

But now we’re back in Americaland and i saw it lying on the table at my friend Nate’s place and so i have it again and have been giving it a serious push. This really is a book every American should read [and South Africans too, different story but similar perspective] and this passage i feel gives a hugely eye-opening transformative reveal that may challenge the very fabric of how you always assumed things to be.

From the chapter titled ‘The Colour of Justice’, page 98-100, bold mine just to draw your attention to those particular lines:

‘This is the War on Drugs. The brutal stories described above are not isolated incidents, nor are the racial identities of Erma Faye Stewart and Clifford Runoalds random or accidental. In every state across our nation, African Americans – particularly in the poorest neighbourhoods – are subjected to tactics and practices that would result in public outrage and scandal if committed in middle-class white neighbourhoods. In the drug war, the enemy is racially defined. The law enforcement methods described in chapter 2 have been employed almost exclusively in poor communities of colour, resulting in jaw-dropping numbers of African Americans and Latinos filling our nation’s prisons and jails every year. We are told by drug warriors that the enemy in this war is a thing – drugs – not a group of people, but the facts prove otherwise.

Human Rights Watch reported in 2000 that, in seven states, African Americans constitute 80 to 90 percent of all drug offenders sent to prison. In at least fifteen states, blacks are admitted to prison on drug charges at a rate from twenty to fifty-seven times greater than that of white men. In fact, nationwide, the rate of incarceration for African American drug offenders dwarfs the rate of whites. When the War on Drugs gained full steam in the mid-1980s, prison admissions for African Americans skyrocketed, nearly quadrupling in three years, and then increasing steadily until it reached in 2000 a level more than twenty-six times the level in 1983. The number of 2000 drug admissions for Latinos was twenty-two times the number of 1983 admissions. Whites have been admitted to prison for drug offences at increased rates as well – the number of whites admitted for drug offences in 2000 was eight times the number admitted in 1983 – but their relative numbers are small compared to blacks and Latinos. Although the majority of illegal drug users and dealers nationwide are white, three fourths of all people imprisoned for drug offences have been black or Latino. In recent years, rates of black imprisonment for drug offenders have dipped somewhat – declining approximately 25 percent from their zenith in the mid-1990s – but it remains the case that African Americans are incarcerated at grossly disproportionate races throughout the United States.

There is, of course, an official explanation for all of this: crime rates. This explanation has tremendous appeal – before you know the facts – for it is consistent with, and reinforces, dominant racial narratives about crime and criminality dating back to slavery. The truth, however, is that rates and patterns of drug crime do not explain the glaring racial disparities in our criminal justice system. People of all races use and sell illegal drugs at remarkably similar rates. If these are significant differences in the surveys to be found, they frequently suggest that whites, particularly white youth, are more likely to engage in illegal drug dealing than people of colour. One study, for example, published in 2000 by the National Institute on Drug Abuse reported that white students use cocaine at seven times the rate of black students, use crack cocaine at eight times the rate of black students, and use heroin at seven times the rate of black students. That same survey revealed that nearly identical percentages of white and black high school seniors use marijuana. The National Household Survey on Drug Abuse reported in 2000 that white youth aged 12-17 are more than a third likely to have sold illegal drugs than African American youth. Thus the very same year Human Rights Watch was reporting that African Americans were being arrested and imprisoned at unprecedented rates, government data revealed that blacks were no more likely to be guilty of drug crimes than whites and that white youth were actually the most likely of any racial or ethnic group to be guilty of illegal drug possession and sales. Any notion that drug use among blacks is more severe or dangerous is belied by the data; white youth have about three times the number of drug-related emergency room visits as their African American counterparts.

The notion that whites comprise the vast majority of drug users and dealers – and may well be more likely than other racial groups to commit drug crimes – may seem implausible to some, given the media imagery we are fed on a daily basis and the racial composition of our prisons and jail. Upon refection, however, the prevalence of white drug crime – including drug dealing – should not be surprising. After all, where do whites get their illegal drugs? Do they all drive to the ghetto to purchase them from somebody standing on a street corner? No. Studies consistently indicate that drug markets, like American society generally, reflect our nation’s racial and socioeconomic boundaries. Whites tend to sell to whites; blacks to blacks. University students tend to sell to each other. Rural whites, for their part, don’t make a special trip to the ‘hood to purchase marijuana. They buy it from somebody down the road. White high school students typically buy drugs from white classmates, friends, or older relatives. Even Barry McCaffrey, former director of the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy, once remarked, if your child bought drugs, “it was from a student of their own race generally.” The notion that most illegal drug use and sales happens in the ghetto is pure fiction. Drug trafficking occurs there, but it occurs everywhere else in America as well. Nevertheless black men have been admitted to state prison on drug charges at a rate that is more than thirteen times higher than white men. The racial bias inherent in the drug war is a major reason that 1 in every 14 black men was behind bars in 2006, compared with 1 in 106 white men. For young black men, the statistics are even worse. One in 9 black men between the ages of twenty and thirty-five was behind bars in 2006, and far more were under some form of penal control – such as probation or parole. These gross racial disparities simply cannot be explained by rates of illegal drug activity among African Americans.’

And it continues. People who know me well know i am not a big fan of statistics, but these seem too overwhelming to ignore. If it is true that white people and black people are committing the crimes of drug use at equal rates [leaning to more by white people] then the level of incarceration of black people for drug usage is absolutely ridiculous and smells deeply of something far more sinister and engineered. You will have to get hold of the book to see the progression of the argument but it takes it all the way from policing to court structures to state and international law and the way it is carried out. Something is seriously skewed in Americaland. And it is skewed against black people and Latinos. And one of the biggest problems is the face value nature of the situation which looks at the number of black people in prison and makes the conclusion that black people must be committing the majority of the crimes and all the assumptions that accompany that.

We have to dig deeper and start to understand the greater story a lot better. This echoes deeply into many issues back home in South Africa. Specifically when it comes to black people and jobs, and then related crime and incarceration there as well. When the playing field and the starting cards you are dealt are not even, and the system is skewed against you, then only the very smallest percentage of people will be able to overcome those odds and obstacles and be able to ‘beat the system’.  But the resounding narrative will tend to focus on all the majority of those who did not make it and so the stereotypes and conclusions will be drawn from looking at their life situations.

[To read some Steve Biko and his focus on Black Consciousness, click here]

[For some Robert Sobuke and his look at how man can die better, click here]

Andrea responds to Bob responding to everyone but Andrea

My friend Dre, who shared some excellent feedback to Bob’s first email over here, responded to his latest response in a comment but i asked her if i could rather share it as a post cos everyone should read this, especially but not solely, Bob. Dre for president!:

Bob, you didn’t respond to MY post! *sniff sniff* I feel so left out! (kidding, I’ll be fine 😉 But seriously, I do appreciate your response to the discussions in general. I think that, based on this post, you definitely seem ‘further along the journey’ than you did in your original mail, which, intentionally or not, had a much more ranty, almost arrogant tone. Here, however, you show a willingness to listen and engage (despite a few ‘yes buts’ 😉 which is great.

However, I also respect Megan’s point of view – her original comment and the one above, in that I am also getting a little tired of ‘educating’ white South Africans on race. Mainly because I’m still reading, listening and learning too, and as Megan says, it’s up to us to do the work, not demand that others ‘help’ us. Read news articles and opinions from all sources (not just news24 or iol, people!) Go to public lectures at your nearest university. Have robust discussions with friends of all backgrounds. Read some books about South Africa (Brett has some good suggestions on this blog).

Sometimes I feel like some white South Africans are not truly asking questions to learn more, but rather to defend their current viewpoints. So I’d say to Bob and all those who are asking similar questions about race and their place in South Africa, just look at your motives. Are you prepared for hard answers? Are you prepared to be uncomfortable? (I’m not saying you’re not, Bob, just addressing this also to others who might have similar questions.)

Lastly, I feel like a lot of the points you mentioned in your previous post and this one have a lot to do with ‘big’ issues – foreign aid, government corruption, economic inequality etc. these are obviously important, and if we are in a position to do so, we can make a difference on that level too… but often that can be quite overwhelming. What I’d humbly suggest is, if you want to feel that you ‘belong’ in South Africa, start acting small rather than only debating big (and again, this is not just for Bob, and I need to do this more too!).

Get involved in something that brings you into contact with those from a different background and race, maybe even something that helps to alleviate suffering or just helps out those who haven’t had your advantages. If you’re involved in a church, that can be a good place to connect with ongoing projects that help the poor, for instance. Ask around. Use your skills and resources, even if it’s only your time.

Instead of asking: “where do I stand as a white South African”, ask “Who needs me to stand alongside them?” And in the process, your perspective on the country and your ‘belonging’ will change – not that it’ll be easy or comfortable or simple, but it will help.

Thanks for engaging, Bob and others – it’s been an important conversation, I think!

[To read the original email and any of the responses, click here] 

Some thoughts from Spaghetti conversations [with Nkosi Wiseman Gola]

My friend Nkosi has written for me a number of times on this blog and so it was a great privilege to have him around for a special meal on Friday night with some friends, that i wrote about over here, and i asked him to share some of his impressions from the evening: 



Conversation is an integral part of transformation. It was for this reason that I went to Brett's house together with Monde Nonabe. It was a very short notice that I invited Monde to come with me and I was so happy and glad that he responded to my short notice invite. I was glad because I respect Monde's heart and passion for change in the black people's situation. I have only known Monde not for a very long time but one thing I knew is his heart for the Lord and his heart for transformation in the lives of the majority of this country. 

During the story telling, I was moved by Monde's story of course because mostly I could identify with his story. Our conversation with Monde began on our way to Wynberg which I was already learning a lot from his knowledge about our fallen heroes in Biko and Prof Sobukhwe. Monde has a speacial ability of linking today's problems with yesterdays happenings and hopes (should haves). 

When I listened to stories from the white brothers and sisters who were there I must say that I came to realisation that they themselves are victims to a system that even though they may not necessarily love but they are beneficiaries of. I listened to one white brother with teary eyes who said that he is aware of his white previlege yet he doesn't know what to do with it. Even though I myself was moved by that sincere heart but I knew that I can't lie about the fact that there is nothing much this brother could necessarily do except to join hands with blacks in dismantling and destroying the white power structure which is the cause of every pain in South Afrika and Afrika in general. 

I was moved about the story of Jan who has been living at a black township Kayamandi in Stellenbosch for many years. He is the only white in that area. As moving this story is but it had to be made clear that for him it was a choice that he went to live and stay in Khayamnandi unlike the blacks living in that area. 

I was also moved by the story of a brother from England who moved in to Mannenberg which is one of the hardcore areas in the Cape flats. I was moved that this brother was making moves and courageous, intentional actions that were to bring about change in Mannenberg. This brother told us a story about privilege on how he managed to raise up funds from contacting few friends in a short space of time for him to be able to own a house in Manenberg. It went more touching when he told a story about how was he a victim of robbery and his house being broke into and still he had a choice to either stay in Mannenberg or to live in a white surburb. This still proves that privilege gives one choice which the black majority of this country don't have. 

Conversation that was in Bretts house was so transforming. I think it was a safe space for such a conversation rather than the social networks. It was in that conversation that I was able to look into peoples' eyes and allow them to be broken and hopeless and hopeful with all the roller coast of emotions. I think these kind of conversations can be more progressive if they could be happening all around the country. These conversations could be more progressive if they could be taking place in the workplace. I do think that conversation like prophecy did to Israel in bring about God's view to the people, conversation puts the different world views into one. The Western Worldview which is most likely to be found amongst the whites and the Afrikan worldview which could possibly be found amongst blacks. 

I must thank tbV for her delicious spaghetti and mince and I would also like to thank Brett and tbV for opening their house for such hard and uncomfortable talk.

[For another post by Nkosi where he speaks about first steps for South Africa, click here]

How a Plate of Spaghetti and an Argentina football player hold the Hope for South Africa.

i do not have adequate words to describe last nite.

i am scared that the ones i use will do it injustice as there is no adequate way to capture what went down at our home as some friends from Sybrand Park, Khayelitsha, Kayamandi, Wynberg, Nyanga, Manenberg and Southfield came together for a meal and some intense conversation.

Spaghetti is a contradiction food all in itself. It is NOT good first date food. It is messy and at some point in the evening someone is going to have to catch your eye and give a nervous cough and indicate that you have some food on your face, or your clothes, or lap.

And that’s kind of how the conversation went. It was messy. And this is probably one of the greatest things that we as South Africans need to learn. MESSY IS OKAY. Messy is necessary and so is uncomfortable and awkward and even angry and confused and devastated. We will not move forwards until we can start having those conversations comfortably, or uncomfortably, so to speak. Both at a political leadership level but also maybe more importantly at a grass roots, neighbour level.

Step one was the phone basket. As you arrive to have a meal with us, you turn your phone off and add it to the basket as a symbol of your commitment to be unplugged and engaged with us for the evening.

Step two was a simple meal. i mean a really delicious and amazing meal that tbV put together including garlic bread and delicious salad and tasty spaghetti, but nothing crazy fancy beyond that. People brought drinks if they could and we shared a meal together.

Step three was introductions. Not even tbV and i knew everyone as one of our friends brought a mate with him, but each person at the meal knew at least one other person. We had an even mix of black and white but from all kinds of backgrounds and current story situations. With this particular meal, we were looking at diving a little more deeply into the idea of race and location and boundary and so you were invited to tell us a little bit about yourself and where you live and why you live there.

As that process happened, people interrupted with questions and clarifications and we got joyfully sidetracked on to deeper conversations of different aspects of race and privilege and prejudice. A lot of laughter. Some silence – a moment after one of our friends stopped talking and tbV wisely said that, ‘The white in me wants to respond and fix and make sense and explain and speak to what you have just said. But I think I just need to listen and let it sink in and really hear and sit with it for a while.’ And so as a room we sat with it for a while. And it was a little awkward and a little uncomfortable [for me, maybe not at all for everyone else or maybe even more so, i don’t know] And then we continued.

There was a lot of passion that erupted. It definitely felt like there were some ‘I have a dream’ speech moments where heart just completely overflowed and it was intense but beautiful. And challenging. There was a strong moment of one participant saying, ‘I feel the same way as you’ and being challenged boldly back. “Where did your children go to school? Oh really, well then they had that choice. How can you possibly feel like me?” Privilege exposed and named in a powerfully tense but amazing moment. At the end of the evening the two of them ended up in a car together as the one gave the other a ride home.

i definitely learnt some things. One of the things i learnt was that for many years the line “Education is the answer” has been held as the carrot before the proverbial horse as if black people just need to educate themselves and get a university degree and then everything will be okay. Apartheid put them on the educational back foot and so one of the ways of overturning that part of the past was through education and lifting oneself out of it. But last night we heard stories of people with masters degrees manning petrol pumps, unable to find work. And that is the story for a large number of people. Education alone has proved to not be the answer. There are much bigger things in play.

i felt hugely uncomfortable. One thing that made me feel uncomfortable was the moment i drove into our driveway with Nkosi and his friend Monde who i had picked up at the taxi rank. Having visited Nkosi and understanding a little of his home situation in Khayelitsha, the thought of him seeing the absolute luxury i live in, was a difficult thought. But it was later on during the story telling when one of our friends shared how 32 of them [not a typo!] lived in a three bedroom house, that i was just blown away. i feel like i have had an idea of poverty and the idea that a lot of people are squeezed into small space so maybe 6, 7, 8 people in a room. 32 people in three rooms. i cannot get my head around that. There are reasons why we live where we live right now which are completely valid. But there are also some inherent contradictions that are part of it as well. At the moment, while we live here, there is the absolute commitment to use the space we have for life-changing transformative conversations like we believe happened last night.

Step four was really just picking up threads that had come out of the introductions and conversation that preceded. But to be honest, the richness of last night was in hearing peoples’ stories and challenges and ideas about where the country needed to go. By the time we got past introductions, i think it must have been 11pm [four hours since starting the meal] and we wrapped up just around 12. One of my highlights of the evening was our one friend who had to be somewhere at 8 and then just got so completely invested that he skipped his other function and was one of the last two people helping clean up after midnight, when i returned from giving someone a ride home.

What’s next is more of these dinners. Having done two now [both going for more than four hours of intense conversation, the previous one being conversations around church] tbV and i have realised that as amazing as they are, they are also really tiring and so probably won’t be moving them to once a week happenings just yet. But once a month feels manageable. We want to have one around money/economics and we are thinking about doing one around marriage. And then we’ll see from there. The next one will happen after we get back from the USA which will be July so maybe end July. If you’re interested in being part of one, let us know. That doesn’t necessarily mean you will be, but it’s good to know who is interested.

i also chatted to Nkosi this morning and he was saying how last night was great and the next step is to get a black church and a white church together and host a conversation like that. i am super amped to do that. So that is something we will chat about and hopefully look to doing later on in the year. If you’re a church leader and interested, let me know. That could really be ultimately country-changing.

These dinners are not the solution to anything. But they are an incredible catalyst for change. i was sitting there last night thinking, ‘This does not happen naturally. Not a lot anyways.’ It needs to be a little intentional and it is likely to always start off a little bit awkwardly. But what if more and more South Africans [because one of our participants from last night is going to be doing something similar with his mates tonite] decided to be more intentional about Deeper Conversation meal times [on whatever topics] and started hosting meals and bringing different people together?

Arguments on Facebook [with the lack of tone that being online robs you of] can only go so far. tbV and i have decided that if you have a strong argument against something that we say or do then sit across from us at a dinner table and let’s talk about it face to face. If we are truly grappling about something [church, race, money, marriage] then let’s commit to an evening together with people who think differently and see what can be learned. Let’s learn to listen together and let’s encourage each other to speak boldly and honestly.

Let’s eat spaghetti on our first date and let’s be bold and realise that we need Messi in our team.

i want to have a positive influence on the state of our nation. This feels like one good way to get started.

Read Nkosi Gola’s reflections on the meal…

Read Brian van Zuydam’s reflections on the meal…

Take in my wife, Val’s thoughts about the evening…

Some related thoughts from my mate, Portal Pete…

Babalwa Nyangeni adds some of her reflections…

Who else is up for giving this a try? i would LOVE to hear how it goes…

[For some more ideas of how to move towards progress in South Africa, click here]

What about Bob? A commentator weighs in: Meet Martha Mmebe

Martha, like Tsholo and Dre, was someone else who shared some thoughts in the comments section of the ‘What about Bob?’ conversation and i didn’t want her words to be missed so i asked her to expand it into a longer post and here it is:

[I am a young Black South African lady, working in a male dominant industry and studying towards my Bcom Degree. Very much active member of the society and believing in transformation.]

How It All Feels

When I first read Bob’s letter I thought he is actually whining but then again I thought that is the problem with people today, when you raising your thought, opinions is either you are an idiot, racist, illiterate or you are just too lazy. What I am about to write might upset few people but then again I know there are certain people who are going to understand my thoughts and please note this is what I AM thinking and feeling, what is familiar with me.

South Africa today is still the same as South Africa long time ago, the difference is that things are not done publicly like before instead it is all in the shadows, take note of the few points below:

1. Majority of them ‘’think they are helping us by giving us jobs’’ true that but just because you are black you should earn less than your white colleague who does the same job as you. (white privilege)

2. Where is the respect as fellow humans, every time I go into a salon dominated by white folks, I get those looks, I might interpret them in my own way ‘’Can she afford it? Is she here to rob us?’’ those are the kind of faces I get and every time it makes me wonder should I somaar leave or stay and hold my head up mos I am here to do my business. The at the corner we have old tannies whispering and holding their purses too tight, is this how we need to behave towards each other?

3. Some people rather drive to North gate Mall where as the have Westgate mall just 5 mins away, I have this chat with all my friends(black & white), fellow white South Africans believe some black people love to live like animals, but then correct me if I am wrong, all races we all have people who are rather ‘’out of their lanes’’ as I may call it. Not all black people are bad as much as not all white people are bad.

4. On several occasions I have witnessed black brothers and sisters treated so unhuman but as a citizen I am allowed to call to order such behaviours. They are being shouted at, called names, working without lunch, some of them have more 10 years experience though they are being lead by a fresh graduate form school who from my thinking and his actions he was taught he is more superior than his fellow human beings, what do we call that? Is this the rainbow nation we always telling people about, then you wonder why black people have unions and they are striking

5. On the striking matter, please correct me and make me aware as I am still learning and I am very much open to criticism, not a lot of white people engage in striking, is it because they are privileged? In a sense that most things they need, they have them?

6. South Africa introduce some BBBEE, is it working to benefit black people I don’t think so, white people still finds a way to open businesses with names familiar to black population…I know white people need to make a living and most of them got some nice lekker R50 000 SAVED some where…can they please live in a location, or a rural area just a month to see what black people really go through daily because of the apartheid that insisted black people to have limited resources.

7. Our black brothers also are not helping this whole situation by being corrupt,To be honest these days we are living for the sake of we have been granted lifes, other than that we have no spirit of fighting and being together, I know some people need us to be equal but how? How do we move on from this time?

8. I believe the is a bunch out there who believes we shall have peace in South Africa, but when? My white friend cannot walk in Ekasi without being exposed to some idiots who think the world belongs to them, I cannot walk in the suburbs without being stopped by the blockwatchers and searching me, how do we move on?

9. Fact is majority of black people are suffering and the minority of white people are suffering, I have concluded but not yet given up, we will never reach common ground with our modern mentality…as much as we are going to dispute this whole race issue, it’s a very long journey of finding the common human behaviors of how we relate. I have not forgotten we have other races in our country, I read about their ordeals and I am familiar with them.

Above are just few things, I actually could write 20 pages about my experience, but I believe in hearing other people’s thoughts.

[If you missed any of the posts in this conversation, they are all linked to the starting email over here]

What ABOUT Bob? Dre brings the CAPS.

My friend Dre [actually Andrea Thorpe] has been commenting at various places in the ‘What about Bob?’ conversation and so i asked her if she’d be up to sharing some thoughts of her own…

[I’m a white, English-speaking South African. I was born in the Eastern Cape in the ‘80s. I studied Journalism and Media Studies and English at Rhodes University, and later completed my Masters in English at Stellenbosch. I’m now roughly halfway through my PhD in English at Queen Mary University of London. I’m writing my thesis on South African literature, specifically, on South African writers writing in London from 1948 onwards, and so I spend a lot of time, while living in London, thinking and writing about South Africa. (It’s very meta.)]

I’m writing this as a follow-up to ‘Bob’s’ letter that Brett shared. I don’t want to do a point-for-point response as others have already done, so thoroughly. As Tsholo, particularly, has eloquently pointed out, some of Bob’s ideas about progress and colonialism are problematic, probably racist (e.g. that colonialism ‘saved’ Africa from itself.) One of the commenters on Bob’s post said it even more pointedly, calling him “ignorant” and “bigoted”. And I’ve asked, in my comments on Tsholo’s post, whether we should actually entertain or even respond to such conservative ideas? Is Bob reaching out for answers, or attempting to justify his privilege and prejudice?

More than anything, Bob’s post seems almost tiresomely familiar. I’m thinking of inventing a new game called ‘White South African Opinion Piece Bingo (2015 Edition)’, which would include boxes like ‘Rhodes Wasn’t Such a Bad Oke’; ‘What About Xenophobia, Hey?’; ‘Reverse Racism is Totally a Thing’; ‘I Know This is Politically Incorrect but I’m Just Saying it Like it Is’; ‘The Country is Going to the Dogs and All They Care about Are Statues’ and ‘Privileged? What, Me?’

Okay, I’m being facetious. But my point is that perhaps these posts are coming from a common place, a shared emotional, psychological impetus, which is maybe worth addressing. This feeling is best summed up by this passage in Bob’s letter:

“I am white, I am made to feel ashamed of a history I had no control of and no one is interested in what a white person has to say because whatever they say or do is racist or from a point of white privilege” and again ,”I am a racist by association and don’t belong in South Africa”.

I read this as expressing two key sentiments: ‘I feel ashamed, and ‘I feel left out’. And what I hear beneath the rambling about government and Mugabe and statues (by Bob and by others) is this:

1) ‘Poor me, I don’t belong’:

Do you really feel as though you don’t belong, or is that your self-pity talking? You have all the rights of a citizen, and furthermore, you are white and therefore privileged.

During apartheid, black South Africans were forcibly removed from their homes, were often forced into exile and were denied the full rights of citizenship. They were truly made to feel as if they didn’t “belong”. Furthermore, in many places, black South Africans still feel excluded. For instance, many black students are marginalised by the structures and cultures of our elite universities: #Rhodesmustfall at UCT, The Black Student Movement at Rhodes and Open Stellenbosch are therefore focused on making our universities truly inclusive.

I think, as white South Africans, we are included more than excluded by South African society. I personally care more about those who, 21 years after the end of apartheid, still feel materially excluded from key sectors, (especially since it’s my field, in higher education) than I do about Bob’s existential crisis of belonging.

2) ‘I feel excluded from discussions about race because they’re not about me’:

I think a lot of white South Africans try and derail discussions about race (“race isn’t important”, “apartheid is over” etc.) because they feel left out, irrelevant. Bluntly, it’s not about you. Apartheid did not disadvantage you. The global imbalance of power cantilevers in your direction. So while you can listen and learn and contribute, debates about race are not going to put you – or people like you – in the centre.

3) ‘It makes me uncomfortable when my whiteness is made visible’:

Discussions about white privilege make white people uncomfortable because they are used to thinking of themselves as ‘just a person’ and are not used to having their race matter. Of course, race doesn’t ‘matter’ – we shouldn’t stereotype or generalise based on the category of skin colour – but it has consequences in terms of the economic, political and social power it’s entailed, historically. That doesn’t mean you have to feel ashamed about this: it’s just a fact. Also, having privilege does not automatically make you racist: it’s not acknowledging this privilege which is problematic.

4) ‘I don’t like it when people accuse me of racism’:

We’d all like to think of ourselves as tolerant, good people. But even if we try really hard to be non-prejudiced, our immersion in South African society (hey, in the very imbalanced world) has a way of coming out of the woodwork. Racism is not just about disliking black people. Racist ideology hides itself in a whole series of assumptions about ‘culture’, ‘civilisation’, education, the West and Africa, identity and so on. If we want to be better South Africans, better humans, we need to able to acknowledge, and hopefully transform, our deep-seated ideas about race.

I know I can always do better. I make mistakes and reveal skewed assumptions I didn’t even know I held, all the time. Example: I’m not even sure if it’s okay for me to write this post. Maybe it’s inappropriate of me to speak on behalf of black South Africans. Maybe I’ve made generalisations or over-simplified certain issues. Maybe not, but it’s worth asking the question. (So let me know what you think.)

It can be uncomfortable carrying out this mental ideology check, constantly, but it’s essential. Of course it’s not just about ideas: ideology can (and should, if it’s beneficial) translate into action, but your mind is a good place to start, I think.

What ABOUT Bob?

Maybe it’s pointless to respond to people like Bob. Maybe they don’t want to change, because that would mean accepting the possibility of a transformed South Africa which might not fit their needs and wants. But I hope that this discussion, sparked by Bob’s letter, can open our eyes to our own assumptions, and can help us to look beyond our own insecurities and emotions, so that we can truly, humbly listen and empathise.

When our kneejerk reactions to being told uncomfortable truths about race and privilege are defensiveness and self-pity, we miss out on an opportunity to really engage with our fellow South Africans, to acknowledge their pain and our shared, difficult history, and to make our country better.

[This is becoming a long conversation, but there is a lot of greatness and importance in here and so we need to keep on with it – get involved in the comments section, bring your friends to look and if you want to find your way to the beginning of it all with links to all the consequent pieces, click here]

What about Bob? And Colette?

So those of you who follow my blog will be aware that i received an email from a friend who wanted to remain anonymous but was wrestling with some questions and issues as a white South African who is currently living overseas but looking in. i published Bob’s email over here.

i then invited some of my friends to respond and so far Alexa [white woman], Marlyn [coloured guy] and Tsholo [black woman] have shared some of their thoughts as well as a number of other people in the comment sections of each post.

And then i got this email from another white friend, Colette, which takes this whole conversation in a bit of a different direction so i thought i would include it:

[My name is Colette. I’m a young, white South African with a passion for my country. I’ve worked in various contexts and currently am self – employed in the adult education sector.]

Having read through ‘Bob’s’ story as well as the comments and the other related posts, I had mixed reactions. For the most part I’m in tears.

1. I know that this issue is never going to be an easy one and, for all that I may not fully agree with everything, I am still grateful to see someone have the courage to say what they think even when it is not necessarily ‘politically correct’. To the commenter who called him ‘an idiotic, arrogant, ignorant, bigoted, whining racist’ I have to ask how this helps the situation? I don’t agree with his point of view but insulting him doesn’t help to change it. I think part of the problem is that many people are too scared to speak out and voice what they are thinking because they are too scared of the response. I know that is why I tend to lurk – reading posts but not responding. I want to ask questions, to understand other perspectives and ask for input but how can I do that when I risk being dropped on from a dizzy height because I’m still trying to unpack my understanding of race and otherness. According to the hierarchy of needs, the issues that we are trying to address only come once the practical needs have been met. We all spend most of our time doing whatever we need to do survive and this does cloud our perceptions of the world. Trying to grapple with the challenges of a broken society is hard, let’s at least give grace to people who are asking questions and trying to understand.

2. Dealing with race and otherness is something that we all face. I will never truly know what it means to be black in South Africa. I can empathise, spend time in the townships, do a thousand other things but I know that it is never really the same. I try my best – please forgive me when I don’t ‘get it’ and let me to grow by correcting me. I’m trying to look beyond my stereotypes but I need help.

3. My heart breaks for this country because I see how much hurt and suffering is still out there. And sometimes I am paralysed by the magnitude of the problems. I don’t know where to begin so I do nothing. I want to be able to help every person I see but I know that it’s not practical. I work in the field of adult education and see so many people who are who are trying to better themselves by taking the opportunities given to them but I also see those who waste opportunities and believe that they should be given everything without working for it. It’s very difficult to help people who don’t want to be helped…

4. The issue of white privilege is something that I’m guessing I still don’t fully understand but I’m trying. And yes, I do often feel guilty for it. I know I’m a white middle class South African but please see beyond the stereotype. I would love to be able change things and, where I can, I will try. There’s a lot more I would love to say but I don’t know how to. I’m writing this as a young, white, South African who has a lot of questions but I want to listen and to understand as best I can.

Kind regards,

Colette Tennison

[To return to the beginning of the story and have access to all the posts, click here]