Not just another whitey

Sunday night's conversation had a huge impact on quite a few of us. Just to give you a taste, we amongst other things discussed the following story as a metaphor:

A man steals a another man's bike. Some time later, the thief comes to his victim and says: "I'm sorry I stole your bike. Can you forgive me?". The owner of the bike asks: "Sure, but where's my bike". The thief: "No-no-no, I'm here to talk about forgiveness, not about the bike!"

Fascinating conversations ensued, which I won't comment on now. But it left me feeling frustrated. I wanted to shout out for all black people to hear: "Will I never be more to you than just a white snob who struck it lucky because of my skin colour?". I started writing the next morning. I wrote about how may dad and mom struggled economically as they grew up, how my dad put himself through school, how he went on to have a successful career, only to be thanked by a structural dismissal in which he lost lots of money and recently saw his job threatened, mainly because he is white. I wrote about how my parents taught us about hard work and frugality, how I paid for most of my studies through merit loans, faced a difficult start of my career and saw a few promotions taken away from me, because I'm white. I just allowed myself to puke all my sufferings amidst my privilege onto the page.

See, I'm not blind to my privilege, or oblivious to the fact that my plight is still a walk in the park to your average black South-African. I just don't want to be reduced to being "just another whitey". I want to be justified, dignified, seen as an individual. Yes, merit does not say everything about what I have, but I do want my hard work recognised. I don't want to be stereotyped, dismissed, ignored, burdened with the tons of baggage simply because I'm part of a particular group. In essence, and here's the kicker, I don't want to be treated the way we have treated blacks for decades.

~~~

Unknowingly, my experience opened up a window. The light breaks through the small opening in the window pane and cuts a bright line on a dusty floor. It's the window of empathy. But it's but a single ray of light. It's still dark in here. It's difficult to listen without being listened to. It's hard to understand without feeling understood. It's like throwing my one leg in behind my other leg, an invisible ankle tap, while at full speed. I'm asked to perform some a sort of reversed Judo move - bringing myself down by using my own momentum. Humility.

South-Africa, racism, and a "blue-pill"

I've always been a big fan of the movie "The Matrix". One of my favorite scenes is when Neo is offered the famous rabbit-hole decision.

Living in South-Africa, and I don't mean only staying here, confronts one with realities of race, class, poverty and also social responsibility on a daily basis. In the past few weeks, this confrontation has intensified through my involvement in an cross-cultural conversation about apartheid, poverty and Christianity. You can read more about this from Tom and Trevor, friends who are thankfully leading us in this (I doubt if I would have been here on own initiative!).

This past Sunday, the meeting reached a new level of discomfort for me. I ended up facilitating the conversation and wanted to start off by checking in with what we've already learned over the past few weeks. I also wanted us to see if we could recognise the small shifts that's already taking place, of which I'm sure there are many. In retrospect, this positive inquiry, which easily epitomises the discourse in SA, seems premature. It felt like the "how's your mother" kind of friendliness made way for a "who the hell do you think you are" kind of truth, quite abruptly. The truth is that there's still a lot to talk about, and transformation doesn't happen simply because we share coffee and chats once a week.

It's a red-pill/blue-pill kind of thing in which I often opt for the blue pill. And so I wonder: Are we trying to wipe the decades of dirt under the carpet? Are we expecting victims of our past to simply become victors in the blink of an eye? Are we really naive enough to think positive inquiry can bleach away the stain of sustained suffering, which for many blacks in SA continue till this day. I'm confronted, amongst other things, with a hastiness that speaks only to, I think, an ignorance about how "deep the rabbit hole goes".