If there were a Whitney I’d want you to meet, it would have to be 4 or 5-year-old Whitney, also known as Mnciks. She was everything- bold, funny, confident, brave and honest. I remind myself of her a little bit now except for the bold, funny, confident and brave part :). But seriously, that little girl was so sure of herself. I don’t remember much- but I know that I made my family laugh a lot and followed my sisters around a lot. I know I adored every single thing about my life and my home- a township in the south of Kwa-Zulu Natal where my sisters and I argued over who was going to play Captain Planet or King Arthur. I, of course, being the youngest never got to play the cool hero, and often found myself jumping off the top of our bunk bed, in efforts to give some gravitas to my designated Superman act.
It was around this time that my sisters were beginning their school careers and my mom had just moved them to a “Model C” school that was accepting black children. I was sent to a pre-school close by, but being the only black kid there (and also the only child one who couldn’t speak English), pre-school life was not bearing the desired results. My mother was then forced to also enrol me into Winston Park Primary a few weeks later so I could be closer to my beloved sisters.
At Mary Poppins (my preschool of 2 or so weeks), the isolation I experienced- due to racial and language differences- had caused me to turn into a tiny recluse. My mother would find me sitting in a corner all alone, every time she came to pick me up and my teachers reported that I refused to eat. I recall telling my family how unfriendly the kids were there, but in retrospect, I see that I just didn’t understand them or the teachers and thus felt rejected. So, off I went to Grade R in my checked brown and white dress and brown Toughees to conquer this foreign language and conquer these foreign people! Long story short, I spent the first few weeks of Grade R napping on the floor of my big sister Khethiwe’s Grade 5 classroom.
Enter Whitney 2.0.
I don’t remember learning English, it feels like I woke up one day with a new skill and a new identity and I was untouchable! Zulu for what? And thus began my 8-year mentorship in White Culture Assimilation; coloured with weekend camping trips, Spice Girls-inspired slumber parties, Tamagotchi’s and endless heartbreak over unreciprocated crushes on blonde-haired, blue-eyed boys. Homelife was just as messy- if I wasn’t prancing around the house with a white towel on my head (the closest thing I had to blonde hair), I was annoying my older, very Zulu siblings with my Pseudo-White Girl delusions of grandeur, whilst selfishly blasting *NSYNC all day long to the demise of said siblings’ sanity.
Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful for the opportunities, experiences and cultural capital (although it be in the form of Whiteness) Winston Park afforded me- it is solely responsible for my ability to sing ANY song from ANY Disney or Julie Andrews movie! But, I can’t help but wonder what it would have looked like if I had indeed conquered and not been conquered. If 5-year-old Whitney never had to learn the art of code-switching. If I had not compromised my identity to feel a part, and if I had owned my race, culture, and background whilst fostering friendship and community. If divergency would have impacted my childhood and that of the many kids in my proximity and produced a society where our white friends saw us for who we were/are, and not just as tinted versions of themselves. Where expressing my blackness or simply identifying as black didn’t alter friendship dynamics. Where solidarity with my community didn’t offend, and where my loud laugh or bad mood is permissible.
As much as I agree with the notion that we are not responsible for educating our white friends about racism, it's legacy and its heavily prevalent realities, I do think I am responsible for being black and actively comfortable in spaces that don't allow for it. To function as an individual and not a stereotype and to be exactly who I am, at all times and in all places.
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