Monday, September 20, 2010

Racism and Conscious Choice

This will probably be the most difficult post I’ve written to date. I apologize in advance for its heaviness.

I’m racist. That’s a very difficult thing to admit, so you should start practicing because you’re racist, too. At the risk of sounding like “Avenue Q,” I will say that to some extent, we are all racist. Whether that means we are blatant with it, as is less and less common these days, to insidious about it, as is more and more common, to what I will term socially internally racist, which is where I fit in this equation. Of course, this issue is far more complex than three groups of people, but for the purposes of simplicity, this is how I am going to go about explaining.

The first group enabled the institutionalizing of racism, as the US saw until the 60s, and South Africa saw until 1994, and further, though it has dissipated. This group stretches from one extreme, the KKK for example, to less menacing institutionalism, to people who simply hate those who are outside of their race classification to little or no consequence. These people are outwardly racist and do not hide that fact.

The second group is, in my opinion, the most dangerous. I have touched on this group before, but I will reiterate for the sake of my argument. This group includes those who are racist and may or may not know it. Oftentimes, they do not know it. This is a tragedy created by society. We, the world as a whole, have taught our people that to be light/white is good and safe and to be dark/black is to be bad and dangerous. Perhaps not in so clear of terms, but we teach it when we send our children to schools where the student body largely reflects their skin color, we teach it when we warn our children about what parts of the neighborhood to stay away from at night. We teach it when we buy houses in neighborhoods that are non-diverse. We teach it every day, in every way. We grow up hearing about genocide and xenophobia and praise our children for not being racist, yet we are, and so are they. This group includes the majority of the world.

The third group is very closely related to the second one with one major different, those in this group are aware of their racism. Through education we learn that we are prejudiced. We become aware of the ways in which racism has infiltrated our (sometimes) accepting (and sometimes, not) upbringing and we are appalled by them. We recognize that equality can only be achieved through the conscious choices we make and that we urge others to make. This group of people are the ones fighting racism and discrimination in schools, the workplace, housing, government, cultural events, and many other places. I call this social internal racism because the racism comes from our socialization process. We learn it from those around us as we grow up and internalize it. We don’t exhibit outward racism because it doesn’t exist. We are, for all intents and purposes, not racist. But it’s still inside of us. It is up to the individual to become aware of this internal racism and make choices to combat it.

Being in South Africa has heightened my awareness of my whiteness. I know that when I am walking down the street at night, as I am walking, that people will not fear me. They won’t wonder how many children I have or how I afforded my clothes. They will not assume much. I am aware of this in those moments, not just afterwards. Being here has made me painfully aware of my own racism. For example, I was walking to a meeting the other night just past dusk. I was alone and my destination wasn’t too much further. As I was walking down the street, I spotted a black man sitting on a bench, not really doing much. My immediate instinct was to move away, to go to the other side of the road. What if this had been a white man? Would I still have felt the need to distance myself? Would I have felt the same sense of potential danger? I felt ashamed. The difference, though, is that I know why those instincts exist. I know how they were created, which is far more complex than I can begin to describe, as it involves class dynamics, race dynamics, history, society, and a host of other issues. I know why I was prejudiced, and therefore, I gain power over it. I have the power to discover, question, and diminish discrimination.

I implore you to look into your head and heart and discover your racism. Many of you reading this already have. You are people I would consider part of the third group, but I know that some of you are very much still in the second group, living without knowledge of your prejudice. Look at how it has influenced your life, even if only in small ways. Painful though it may be, look at how it has altered your perceptions of people. You have the ability to gain power over your discrimination and change your life, and others in turn. It’s so easy to sit back and let it happen; after all, you’re the beneficiary. But please, I beseech of you, don’t.

For those of you willing to open yourselves up to this issue, I am completely willing to have in depth conversations with anyone on this topic if you feel the need to learn more or if you want to explore your thoughts and feelings. This is such an important issue to talk about. Please, if you need to talk, I am here.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

How to Get Your Butt Kicked by a Mountain

I am seriously losing my game of Sam v. Africa.

Table Mountain, or Tafelberg, is a relentless, oddly-shaped fortress of rock that will crush you like the slowest gazelle in the herd if you don't come prepared with a six pack (not the beer) and your big-kid pants.

I was aware that the trail up was difficult, but no one informed me that it was the most difficult climb on the mountain. Gee, thanks Interstudy! You guys ROCK.

Platteklip Gorge is the way we (or, I should say, most of us) got up the mountain. It's extremely steep, you're more climbing the mountain than hiking it. It's 2 hours of straight uphill, and 30 minutes in, my knees were threatening to pop off and bludgeon me to death, so I hiked back down and over the the cable car. From there, it was a short 4 minute ride up the mountain. It felt like a cop-out and I was embarrassed that I couldn't make it. However, I didn't miss the bulk of the hike.

The view from the top is astonishing. You can see the arm that reaches out to Cape Point disappearing into the sky and sea. The ocean goes out so far that it touches the clouds. All of Cape Town, Kirstenbosch, countless small towns, and beyond is visible. You can see Robben Island (see first two photos) and it's absolutely gorgeous. This place is absolutely stunning. I could have just sat there and looked out for hours.

After lunch on the top, we walked all the way across the table to the other side of the top to the highest point in Cape Town. From there, we started our trek down. Along the way, we came across a few lizards, a trio of dams (and some lakes to go with), other hikers, and a barrage of awkwardly-shapen rocks to dance around. The hike down took about 4 hours, but it was wonderful.

Today, my body is recounting the tale to me with every move I make. I'm sore from head to toe. I'm even sore in muscles I was unaware that I had. I'm absolutely not joking when I say this hike, even accounting for the part that I missed, is not to be taken lightly. I have a sunburn across the back of my neck and my shoulders and arms (I put sunscreen on, just not enough, apparently). But I'd say that the whole trip was worth it.

And I would like to say, for the record, that I am planning a rematch against dear ol' Tafelberg. I'm going back when I don't have a group to slow down and I am going to conquer Platteklip Gorge. I am determined. If it weren't for the time-constraint, I could have made it yesterday.

I will beat you, Platteklip. Just you wait.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Looking Behind the Curtain

I think this is what is known as the Negotiation and then Adjustment phases of culture shock.

I apologize for the slight delay in posts, but at least it hasn’t been over a month (ahem, like Jenna).

The Honeymoon phase is, indeed, dead and reality has settled in. My time here has revealed the spit beneath the shine of Stellenbosch. This town is a haven of sorts. It’s very European and “safe.” In fact, it feels like I could still be in the States. However, there are race dynamics at play here of which I couldn’t begin to scratch the surface. The biggest indicator that there is something awry is the fact that while the Western Cape is made up of 80% Blacks and Coloureds (a number that roughly matches each of the bigger cities within the Western Cape, including Stellenbosch), Stellenbosch University has less than 30% Blacks and Coloureds. There is both institutional and very personal racism prevalent here.

I have a professor, who shall go unnamed, but suffice it to say he teaches history, that I believe is very much part of the problem. He is an Afrikaner and upholds all traditional Afrikaner beliefs. I don’t recall if I gave a very clear picture of what “Afrikaner” means, but if I didn’t, I’ll do it briefly now. Afrikaners are descendants from the (White) dutch that colonized South Africa. They speak Afrikaans (something I will be getting into in a moment). They intermixed mostly with Germans and French that came to the country, though some also have west-African slave ancestry. Their conflicts with the British are similar to those the British had with people in the American colonies. It would take me much too long to really get into the history of the Afrikaner people, but I will say that there is a history of contention between them and indigenous peoples (mostly those that are Black and Coloured) that has lessened but it still present today. Back to my point though, is that this professor is the most insidious type of racist there is, the kind that doesn’t think he’s racist. And he teaches history. To people who aren’t from South Africa and will believe just about anything he says about it. In an aggravating conversation I had with him, we debated the value of the Affirmative Action system and he calmly told me that the reason it should be done away with was because people of color were lazy and couldn’t do any of their jobs right. He is one of (presumably; I haven’t taken classes from EVERY professor) several lecturers on campus that promote this kind of thinking and inhibit the growth of equality in a country that needs it very much.

I am taking a beginner’s course in Afrikaans right now. I knew a very small amount of history before I started the course, but over the semester I’ve learned quite a bit that makes me almost ashamed to be learning it instead of isiXhosa (which is also offered at SU). I’ve touched on this issue in previous posts, so I won’t go into detail, but it is very much the language of the oppressor, and my choice was simply utilitarian.

However, all of this is not to say that I don’t like South Africa or Stellenbosch. I just think that my initial impression was ill-formed.

I want to take a moment to talk about the strike, as it has an immediate effect on my life right now.

The public sector is currently striking in South Africa. This includes nurses, teachers, immigration officers, government officials, and many others. Their wages are ridiculously low, and they are asking for an 8.6% increase, still not up to American minimum wage, but closer. It is working on its fourth week right now, and the repercussions have been tragic. Hospital patients are dying due to reduced care, children across the country are losing out on education, and riots are forming. This strike, if it continues any longer, will be the longest stoppage in work since the end of Apartheid in ’94. That, paired with massive public opposition to President Jacob Zuma, has made this strike a much bigger deal that anyone anticipated. It may ultimately decide more than wages.

Now, on to the lighter stuff.

Two weekends ago, I was supposed to go to Robben Island. However, due to atrocious weather, the ferry to the island wasn’t running. That day just happened to be the day that the Athlone Cooling Towers just outside of Cape Town were scheduled to be demolished. After our first try to find a place to watch the implosion (we were almost dropped at a Police Station in a VERY unsafe part of town, until the women we were with decided it was just too unsafe, even at the station, to leave a group of white tourists), we found a “viewing area” set up with speakers for people to safely watch. We got to sit on the wet ground for an hour before the demolition, but it was still worth seeing the landmarks go up in smoke (a video of the implosion is located at the bottom of this post).

I took a trip with Jenna and Stephanie's Service Learning class to Cape Town verlede naweek (that's last weekend for those that don't speak Afrikaans). I woke up bright and early, 6am, and we made our way to the train station in quite a hurry, barely missing the train and having to wait for the next. On that trip, we attended mass at St. George's Cathedral, the church at which Desmond Tutu presided. While I'm not a believer, I was able to appreciate the beauty of both the Cathedral and the service. After that, we took a stroll through a garden/park where I befriended a squirrel and quite a few pigeons (Snow White style). We also saw the South African version of the White House. After, we visited the Holocaust museum. It was interesting to see and read about South Africa's viewpoint on this horrific event. The day was capped with lunch and a train ride back home.

I’m into the thick of school now. In fact, I interrupted writing a paper for one of my classes (Economic and Developmental Problems of South Africa and Africa, to be exact) to write this blog (the prompt, which I’m very excited about, is simply “Are we all Africans?”) I have another three papers due in the next four weeks, which is why I am using Spring Break to get it done. I’ve had my first two tests/exams. The first was in history (my WORST subject) and I am happy to report that I got an 88% (a solid A in Africa). The second was in Afrikaans and while I haven’t gotten my grade yet, I am quite confident I will receive an A.

I truly love working in Kayamandi, however, I’ve been missing my kids as of late. Because of the strike, the students haven’t been in class for three weeks. We’ve struggled with being allowed to continue working with them, as it is being seen as undermining the strike. And while the teacher side of me completely understands that, these kids still need to be learning. Because they haven’t had class, many don’t come to the after-school program I work at, so the last few weeks we haven’t had more than 5 or 6 students when we usually have 35. I’ve gotten close to a few of my students. It has been hard for me to learn some of their names, but one is fairly close to my Xhosa name (Thembi), her name is Thembisipho. Another girl I am getting to know fairly well is Yolanda. We have been working on writing stories and have played many games together. I really love being in Kayamandi. The life force I feel there is so strong, so much more exuberant than anywhere else I’ve ever been.

This next week, I plan on getting my first (and probably only) tattoo (finally). I’m very nervous yet excited about it, as it’s something I’ve been wanting to get for quite a while now. I’m planning on getting two papers done and then relaxing, perhaps doing some light travelling over this holiday week. I’ll be sure to report anything exciting.

I hope all is well at home.

Love to all.

P.S. I realize that I'm basically wearing the same outfit in ALL of my pictures. In my defense, it IS winter here, or, it was until four days ago, and it is still very cold. I only have one sweatshirt.