Opinion piece


While driving this past Sunday to Witportjie in Roodeport with friends, we saw a white female beggar. We were on our way to a church gathering to cap off the day set aside by the Lord.

As the robot turned red, we stopped and the lady approached the car in front but quickly turned away on noticing the car was driven by a black man. She turned to us in the car behind, then quickly retreated on noticing our pigment.

Her face of desperation quickly turned to a smug grin. This was not only disrespectful, but it was a look that made us feel like lesser beings. To her we were nothing.

“It’s no secret, white people don’t respect us blacks.”

I can’t stop thinking about that Sunday drive.

I often wonder about racial undertones in society.  Racism still exists and is institutionalised so much, even a white vagrant on a corner looks down on darkies superior to her.

This is why I was very bothered when President Cyril Ramaphosa in the past week addressed the Afrikanerbond’s centenary ‘celebrations’.

There are mixed reactions to this and I have a strong opinion which I however will keep to myself.

“White people must examine themselves.”

It’s no secret, white people don’t respect us blacks. It’s not just in the older generation but the young ones are keeping the legacy alive. One only needs to take a trip to Krugersdorp to see what I mean.

There are dividing lines all around us. Look at the national rugby team, even with Siya Kolisi as captain division persists. Personally I feel white people are not prepared to change, not prepared to share what’s rightfully ours, not willing to learn, regardless of who they are. Heck, even the DA leadership laments the colonial past.

You don’t agree.

Most white adults in South Africa have been here their entire lives and have not bothered to learn one South African language, instead they parade the word ‘Ubuntu’ all over the place.

Now you might be thinking to yourself, why am I complaining when I don’t have a solution to this? While your observation is true as I don’t have a remedy, this isn’t one of those situations where it’s up to us to find common ground.

White people must examine themselves.

Image: GCIS/TechCentral


Obviously masculinity is an artificial societal construct that has been strengthened over the ages as man has asserted his dominance over everything he can lay his eyes on. Regardless of its artificiality its consequences are real, thus masculinity is real. It is a product of its social actors although as it exists today within the context of South Africa I find it hard to claim it as a product of my creation as an early millennial.

Nobody cuts the black man some slack, NOBODY!

As far back as I can remember a suit has represented the triumph of western hegemonic domination in my mind. I have always viewed its wearer as a sell-out of the highest order, who deserves nothing less than a tyre around their neck and a good dose of paraffin to get the fireworks going. This militant idealistic notion has been tempered down over the years by the politics of the stomach, although my disdain for a suit has remained. A finely tailored suit made from the most exquisite fabrics known to man exudes power and success in the minds of the masses and I would be lying if I said the same sentiment does not resonant in my mind when I see a tall, young, black, athletically slim man, coming out of the latest German machine as he means business in Sandton. This image is consistently peddled by mass media, defining what aspirations I should have as a young black man and I say fuck that!

Unfortunately I cannot sleep my way into a warm bed and a regular meal.

When I turn to my tribal teachings as a *Xhosa man, I find no comfort.  At the age of 29 I am supposed to have a third bun baking in the oven, preferably a boy who will be able to carry on the family name. Although a girl will be welcomed considering how valuable such property is when it reaches an age of maturation and it is able to breed. With the addition of religious fanaticism on top of that, I’m stuck with the same woman for the rest of my life and I am not allowed to love anybody else as long as my wife lives. Regardless of the fact that most off my male relatives, going back three generations, had children outside of wedlock.

On top of all these unmet societal expectations of masculinity, I have to deal with the traumatization of the black psyche as a result of colonialism as it manifests itself externally and internally in the lives of my people in the dirty South of Africa. Nobody cuts the black man some slack, NOBODY!

Shit is real out here and the coloniser needs my undivided attention…

Unfortunately I cannot sleep my way into a warm bed and a regular meal. I have to kill, lie and fight for everything I want in this world and that presents the very real possibility of perverting an already troubled mind towards unspeakable offences of homicide, femicide and infanticide as is the case in this troubled land of ours. I am both the victimiser and the victim.

So while I sympathise with the feminist agenda I simply do not have time to give it my full support and dedication.  Shit is real out here and the coloniser needs my undivided attention if I am to win the battle that was lost by my forefathers.

*I am actually IBhaca but Mzansi bureaucracy does not recognize the nuances of Nguni politics.

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