I've been meaning for a while to do a series of posts on my experiences with race. Just some stories from my life. Because race is quite a big issue in South Africa.
In South Africa there are still pretty large gaps between different races. On Thursday I went to a talk by a Professor from UCT, entitled "Recent patterns of racialisation." It was mostly a bunch of stats about different races in SA. The kind of stuff we all know, really, but maybe don't talk about much. For example, they did a study on the Jammie Steps at UCT, where they set up a camera to regularly take pictures of the stairs. Then they looked at how people were grouped in the pictures. And guess what? People sat in groups of the same race. But we all knew it would be like that, didn't we?
So ja, there are still pretty large gaps between different races. Physical gaps where we often still live in different neighbourhoods and so forth, but more personal gaps too. Where we don't understand each other, where we have had different experiences of life, where we make assumptions about each other and so forth. Even language can be a big gap.
Anyway, that was a long intro to a short post. I've been really blessed in life to be around a very mixed race bunch of people, which has been difficult and great in very many ways (And even the difficult is a great thing, when it comes down to it, because sometimes its difficult to deal with race stuff. But its still very important to deal with it. And I'm very grateful for the opportunity I have had to do this).
So along the way I've had all sort of experiences that have challenged me and opened my mind and humbled me. So I thought I must blog about some of them!
Just a short one for today:
I used to tutor maths to some kids from a township school near me, just to help them out. It was quite alot of fun actually.
They usually spoke Xhosa to each other. We did math problems in a group, so it usually meant me speaking to them in English and them speaking to me in English, but then discussing and explaining the work to each other in Xhosa. Sometimes they even spoke Xhosa to me, which I could usually understand just enough to reply. Because when you're talking about maths you would usually use the word "parabola" or "gradient" even if you are speaking in Xhosa, so I could pick up enough from the few words I know, and the context, to reply somewhat intelligently!
And I don't mind it at all. Xhosa is their home language, and the home language of most people in my region, so really it should be me making an effort to learn Xhosa. Also, grasping maths can be hard enough in your mother tongue, why make it more difficult by insisting on using English?
Anyway, on this one occasion I was walking back to the car with them, and one of the girls asked me very earnestly if I felt left out when they all speak in Xhosa.
And it was such a moment for me because I thought it was the most beautiful role reversal. Here was this young black girl, concerned for me. A wealthier, older, educated while girl, who was, in that context, her teacher.
Language is a strange thing, because it can represent so much of a person's identity. And its often the case that English represents wealth and education and sophistication. That English is exalted above other languages, in a sense, and represents white superiority. Which is nonsense of course, but that it how it is sometimes viewed, consciously or unconsciously, by people.
Which is why I thought it was beautiful when this girl was concerned for me, that I felt left out in not understanding her language. And in her concern, she became the gracious and I became the one who received her grace.
I could say more, but I'll leave it for another post :)
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4 comments:
If I apply my mind, I can think of perhaps one or two incidents in my own life that involve "race" or "racialisation". Why? Because, of course, "whiteness" is not a race - it's the norm, the status quo, the ultimate way of being. Pity I don't still have my Journ readers from fourth year - we learned all of this and it was mind-blowing, fascinating, humbling and ultimately horrific to realise how unbelievably easy our lives are as white South Africans. We can bitch, moan, stamp our feet and whine about crime blah blah blah, but in the end, we retain control/power and the 'moral highground'. Disgraceful!
The experience you describe, though, encompasses something of that oft-quoted concept, "Ubuntu" - the genuine and humane concern of one person for another's feelings, in a manner that totally transcends race. It's really fantastic to read that stuff, and to know that in some small pockets, we're getting it right. Pity about most of the country, eh?
Great post Laura!
I'm also guilty of only hanging out with black+coloured people not because I want to but because I've grown up in the township I'm used to hanging around with black people. I would like to hang out with people of other races but I still live in the townships and my campus' demographics are 85% blk 15% other so I haven't really afforded the opportunity to hang around white people. I guess I have to make more of an effort!
@VJ - sometimes I get down about it, but sometimes I'm encouraged too. I think something thats quite nice is that the "getting it right" spots are often just ordinary people in ordinary places, getting on with life. Which makes me glad :)
Want to blog about your two incidences for me?? :)
@Aquilogy - yeah its quite tough to break into new circles of different people! May you find a way though! :)
Laura, one incident that springs to mind is going into Joe Slovo (an informal settlement near Langa here) to cover tensions after a group of backyard dwellers had lost a court action to remain in the area. I've been into townships before, and never felt even vaguely freaked out about it, but on that day, as we drove through the township, I was stared at with open contempt and hatred. As a white person entering a black area, you always get looked at curiously, stared at, whatever - but never with malice. Now, I was being glared at with loathing by people my age. And it freaked the heck out of me!
I don't think we as white people realise quite how invisible our race makes us, you know? I was shopping for CDs once, and was standing at the till when a coloured man walked up next to me, carrying a HUUUUUGE stack of CDs and DVDs - like, easily R5000's worth. He put it down on the counter, turned to me and asked, "Have you been followed by an assistant from the moment you walked in and watched while you picked up CDs and browsed?"
My answer was, "No, not at all."
To which he told the bloke behind the till that he couldn't tolerate being followed through a shop like he was a crook, when he'd been about to pay a stack of stuff and pay for it with his goldcard. He left the stuff and walked out.
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