THE EMPATHY PROJECT
"THE HUNGER GAMES"
Nomvelo Miya
I grew up in the township of KwaMashu until we moved to a predominantly white suburb when I was seven. My parents enrolled me into a school closer to our new home the following year, and I soon found myself the new (black) girl in a sea of white faces! My previous school had white teachers, but all the students (and thus all my friends) were black. So my interaction with white people up to this point had been minimal. Needless to say, navigating this foreign white space was such a culture shock for me! Being a black kid in a white school in 90's South Africa felt like being in the Hunger Games - you never knew where the attack on your blackness would come from. I had teachers commenting on my hair and white peers calling me a nigger or saying I didn't belong in the 'A-class'. All of this was just in Primary School. There were so many different ways in which we (black students) were 'othered' and made to feel less than because of the colour of our skin. So, I knew I was black when by the age of eight, I - like so many of my black peers - had to learn how to code-switch and play down my blackness as a way to survive.
"FAMILY IS NOT ONLY BOUND BY BLOOD"
Mamello Mongoatu
The first time I realised I was black was when I went to a multiracial boarding school. The hostel was divided according to race – black kids stayed in one section while the staff and white kids shared a section of the hostel. We all ate in the same dining hall but the tables were divided according to race. Interestingly I never saw anything wrong with that arrangement. On the flip side, it was during this time that I learned that family is not only bound by blood. I met black girls who became an extension of my family. These girls continue to journey through life with me. They have been a great support structure for me during these covid times.
"A SEAT"
Thabisa Hlwatika
The first time I truly realised that I was black was in standard 2 (grade 4) in 1995. My mom had enrolled my sister and me into a "former white" school, which had been divided into 2 departments. It had an English-medium and Afrikaans-medium department, but for PE and Music class- we were combined.
The first day we went to Music class, the Afrikaans-medium children were already sitting on the benches. So, naturally, if there is seating space available next to someone, one fills that space. We (a majority of the black children) went to fill up space next to one of the white children. That child stood up, so did the next one, and eventually, the bench was left empty. They did not want to sit next to the 'Swartes' (blacks).
Anyway, we ended up using that as a way of getting a seat in Music classes. If there wasn't enough space on the benches, we just sat next to a white child and space would open up. However, after some time it stopped. I guess something in them clicked- sitting next to someone black wouldn't change who they were. Maybe. I don't know what was going through their heads.
"PEOPLE CONSTANTLY ASKED WHERE I WAS FROM"
Allan Basajjasubi
The first time I realized I was black was when people constantly asked where I was from because my surname had eleven letters- which is unusual for a black person, let alone a South African black person.
Seeing the looks of bewilderment at some trying to say my surname (both black and white) left me feeling like an outsider, without acceptance from both my white friends and black friends.
"OBSERVATIONS"
Bernice Springer
Becoming aware of my blackness when my skin tone was the unspoken norm in my country was a very odd revelation. It began with subtle observations of what I was not which, in tandem, began to formulate the concept of who I was and how others viewed me.
For a girl of 6 or 7, my observations took place on the playground at break time. I noticed that the boys I liked tended to gravitate to girls who had straighter hair, thinner bodies, lighter skin -- all of which stood in stark contrast to me.
Over time, these observations formed a hypothesis, then that hypothesis became a theory. And it was this theory that I understood to be indicative of how I would fair in the world of romantic love for several years to come. It was the cognisance of my differences in this context that first aroused my consciousness of my blackness.
"SEE YOU TOMORROW, SARA BAARTMAN!"
Thandeka Khathi
I have always known that Black people were disadvantaged, based on our history as South Africans. When I was growing up, the living conditions of Black people did not evoke any questioning from me.
I had no encounters with White people except for when my granny and I would bump into my her madams in town. I was so intrigued by how my gran could differentiate between the different Madams we bumped into. She would go on to tell me "That was Mrs. Donhauser, my current employer” or "That was Mrs. Meyer the school principal."
In my 7 year old eyes, they all looked the same!
She, my grandmother, used to work at a school for the handicapped as a cleaner. She doubled as a weekend maid for the teachers who lived on campus. Nothing ever suggested that I was different or less than at the time, and for a long time after that. I was sheltered and nested among my own from my primary school years through university.
Life only started to show me flames in my early 20’s. At university, I learned a lot more about apartheid and its systemic manifestations- it was then that I began to resent white people. I felt a need to show every white person I came across that I was not their maid, and that I would not be treated as such. This attitude revealed itself when I started to do waitressing jobs- I could not get myself to smile at white people as expected. I had decided I would not be smiling for anybody unless there was something funny.
One of my employers confronted me once, after having one too many, about how she and her husband had picked up on my obvious dislike for white people. At this point, I had warmed up to them and they had earned my respect. She said, " We noticed how you hated white people when you first came here, we are glad to see you don’t hate us anymore”. Leaving her poor husband red with embarrassment that his wife had shared their thoughts!
But the realisation that my blackness was so unwelcome and a cause for discomfort to some people, hit me when I started teaching in Taiwan. I arrived there excited to begin a new life. I had not imagined that I would be the only black face I would see in the entire town of Nankan, Taoyuan City! This was a bit unsettling, but I am a big girl so I shook it off and soldiered on. On my second day of school, as I was waiting to cross the traffic lights, I noticed that although the traffic lights were open for cars and closed for pedestrians, cars were not moving. When I looked around, I saw that I was the cause for the kerfuffle! All eyes were on me, from the bus driver and his passengers to the scooter driver- I had literally stopped traffic!
From that day on, I became more self-conscious, more aware of people turning their heads and pointing at me- some looked angry, others entertained. It was strange how they all behaved like kindergarteners. When I boarded the bus, nobody would sit next to me. All the seats would be occupied except for the one next to mine. Sometimes a person would come to take a seat but soon as they saw me, they would quickly stand up and make a shocked "Ha” sound! The worst was when a colleague I considered a friend turned around after school one day and said, "See you tomorrow, Sara Baartman."
It was then that I resolved that they weren't ignorant but in fact chose to perceive Black people as less than. It was during this time in Taiwan it registered that the best thing for me to do, was to love myself and embrace my blackness even more. I wore my African beads more often and would sometimes, to the amusement of my students, don my headscarf with my head held high. I needed to show them that I had no intention of being anything other than myself. Never in my entire life had I been so proud to be black. I appreciated the resilience of black people even more, understanding better the impact Apartheid might have had on its firsthand victims- our parents. The collateral damage experienced by us can not in any way measure to the firsthand experiences of being made to feel unwanted and unworthy of life, in your own country nogal!
The awareness of my blackness, and the devaluing that comes with it, has given me more pride and respect for my people- who continue to thrive and rise above all the challenges they face, due to the colour of their skin. We continue to laugh, sing, and dance amid all the hatred and efforts to keep us in dungeons, economically and otherwise. This realisation is not a once-off event, but a daily occurrence. I have learned that being angry or hateful about it will not change anything. I can only change how I treat myself and how I treat others. I can love myself better and know my worth and stand my ground if and when necessary.