Growing up in Canada, it’s hard to visually see the great privileges I’ve had throughout my entire life. See, in Canada, we are raised under the impression that everyone is equal, regardless of race, religion, sexuality, gender, etc. And, for the most part, people are treated equally. That’s not to say there isn’t work to be done — because there is — but compared to much of the world, Canada has done exceptionally well. In South Africa, on the other hand, this is not the case. Not even close.
South Africa, officially, is a free and equal democratic society, and it has been ever since the end of Apartheid. Apartheid — the legislative system of segregation of races that plagued South Africa until 1994 — is over. But the scars of those days have not healed. In fact, it seems the wounds have barely begun to even close up.
In South Africa, people are still defined by the colour of their skin. It is an important part of the people’s identity — whether they like it or not. Even as an outsider coming into South Africa, I find myself being more and more aware of what being white in this country means, and that’s something I struggle to deal with. The colour of my skin has never been something that defines me. I don’t see myself as a white, male, Canadian student. I see myself as a human being — just like everyone else. But in South Africa, being white carries with it, unfortunately, a great deal of privilege. And it’s a tough thing to notice at first, until you start actively looking for it. One only has to walk through the major “tourist” areas of Cape Town in order to see it — it’s all white people. And as you look closer and closer, you begin to see that the colour of your skin means something here. These divisions of race were by design, and despite Apartheid being over, these divisions are still very much a reality. White privilege is real. And I’m struggling to understand how to deal with it.
Now, with the escalation of more student protests in South Africa over proposed 2017 fee increases for post-secondary education (http://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/23/world/africa/fees-must-fall-anatomy-of-the-student-protests-in-south-africa.html), the idea of privilege has been rattling around in my mind even more. After an announcement of modest fee increases for the 2017 school year, campuses across SA have erupted into protests — mainly peaceful — demanding that post-secondary education be free, or at the very least cheaper, for all SA citizens. The protestors, the majority of whom are black South Africans coming from poorer upbringings, have been successful at shutting down UCT for the past 2.5 weeks, and threaten to continue protesting until the government acts in accordance to their demands. And don’t get me wrong, I support the right to protest. I also agree that university should be free. But in reality, this demand is nearly impossible for a country like South Africa. It’s almost not even possible in a wealthy nation like Canada. This is the important part that I believe many protestors ignore. And this, right here, is where privilege comes into play. To me, the proposed fee increases are modest, and would make no difference to me should I have to pay them. But to many black South Africans, these increases represent the difference between them attending and not attending post-secondary, something I have been so privileged to never have to understand. Having the colour of your skin playing a role in whether you can attend university is beyond imaginable in a country like Canada. But in South Africa, because of its past, this is exactly what is happening.
So given these circumstances, I feel as though I am on the outside looking in — unable to understand the mindset behind the anger. And that’s why I’ve chosen the picture above to represent these feelings. Just like the hike up Lion’s Head at night, the city seems so peaceful and calm. Yet there is so much going on that I cannot even begin to understand.