Wits

Dear AGENTS OF CHANGE,

LOVE IN A TIME OF CLOSET RACISM.

I used to think that we can love whoever we want without anything to stand in our way until I was 14 and my friend planted seeds of doubt.

My first boyfriend was white. I was 12 and the most we did was hold hands and hug in secret when no one was looking. I was shy – I didn’t want people making a fuss about what I did. The image of a white boy as a hot boy had been drilled into my mind. My first crushes were members of The Backstreet Boys, N’Sync and Westlife, so to question the attractiveness of a white boy because of my black skin had never crossed my mind.

Then I got to high school.

In a conversation with one of my friends – a white Portuguese girl – I asked if she would date a black boy. She said no. Without hesitation. She said she wasn’t raised that way. Even today I ask myself what that means. What it means to be raised in a way that teaches you to exclude potential love because of the packaging it comes in. To me, race wasn’t a preference – perhaps looks and height and all these other things that make someone attractive to you were things that included or excluded someone from consideration but race had not previously come into play.

I went on to ask her if she found black boys attractive. Again she said no. She just didn’t see them that way. I didn’t probe too much. I could tell she was uncomfortable so I let it go, but I know from that day I saw my friend differently because it became clear to me that I was different from her. Her rejection of black men felt like a rejection of me too. We could be friends but only to a certain extent. She wasn’t raised to be more than civil with me – or so it seemed to me.

Over the years in high school it was clear to me how things worked. We could all hang around with one another but we could not cross the line of getting too personal. Touching, kissing, being intimate. My affections, as a black girl, for a white boy were a taboo he dare not break.

He was not raised to love me, despite his deepest desires perhaps, despite the the quiet joy he pushed down when he heard my voice or saw my face.

Interestingly though, black boys who were our peers, would get lucky sometimes. They sometimes found the rebellious white girl who wanted to test the waters. Some wanted to “test” their parents, others were “curious” about a black boy and his forever sexualised masculinity – but that’s a story for another day.

I got to test out my taboo theory again when I got to my final year of high school.

I went to a girls’ school and there was a boys’ school near us – our brother school. In matric (senior year) 30 of us were elected to be prefects. So at some point there was to be a Prefect’s Ball where prefects from across the city would all gather and have a jol.

The price of a Prefect’s Ball ticket was R150pp so to be money savvy taking another prefect would be the smart thing to do – that way you each pay R150 instead of R300 for you and your date. As girls our plan was to propose our money saving concept to the Boys High prefects. We had a Prefects Braai (barbecue) coming up so we would raise the issue then. Solid plan right?

Except for one teeny detail. There were fourteen black prefects in our group and I think about four in theirs. We decided it didn’t matter. Or we thought it shouldn’t. Maybe we just hoped it wouldn’t.

When we got to the braai we did a speed dating thing where we all met one another and chatted about different things. I decided instead of making a proposal about going together as couples to the ball that I would ask a deeper question, one that I actually wanted the answer to. Ultimately, I didn’t want to spend a night to remember with someone who didn’t share a fundamental value system with me.

So I asked them, one after the other: Would they ever date a black girl? And did they find black girls attractive at all? Not a single one said yes. They all weren’t raised that way, didn’t see us that way or just weren’t into that kind of thing. I remember specifically exchanging notes with my bestie. I recall how crushed we were. I think even though we had an idea of the likely outcome we expected a majority decision not a unanimous one – a loud unanimous no.

I think I expected better because we were all raised during the same era. The dawn of a New South Africa – the Rainbow Nation where we were taught to be free in all things. We had been taught that our generation was different but that day it felt like I got 26 blows to my heart and to my hopeful spirit. Our generation was supposed to be different but here it was – a clear indication that it really wasn’t.

I don’t know how different those boys would be today. I don’t know if they would have grown up to be men who don’t let race dictate who they choose to be with but honestly I do doubt that very much. I rate they’re currently busy defending their privilege and are convinced now more than ever that loving us would be a terrible mistake – but again, that’s a topic for another day.

All I know is that these experiences of rejection as a young girl based on my skin colour changed me. I rejected the idea that a white man could actually see me as an equal partner and I also rejected the idea that his family could accept me even if he did. And it hurts. To think that I was raised simply to love. If anything the most my mom would ever say is that he must go to church but even then, she always hammers the fact that her only desire is for me to fall in love with a man who loves me as much as I love him – maybe even more.

Deep inside me there still remains a hope that we can get over our prejudice.

But only if we stop raising our kids to love selectively.

WRITTEN BY: EDWI MPHO MAKITLA

INSPIRED BY: WITS STUDENTS

PUBLISHED BY: EDWIN MPHO MAKITLA

CLOSE RACISM.

I used to think that we can love whoever we want to without anything to stand in. my way until I was 11 and i planted seeds of doubt.

My first girlfriend she was white. I was 11 and the most we did was hold hands and hug in secret when no one was looking so my bad {laughing}. I was shy – I didn’t want anyone making a fuss about what I did. The image of a white girl as hot as had been drilled into my mind. My first crushes was someone I met on the street and that when I started to have crush on her, I asked myself questions of attractiveness of a white girl because of my black skin had never crossed my mind.

Then I got to high school in 2006, I had a talk to talk.

In a conversation with one of my friends – a white American girl – I asked if she would date a black boy. She said no. Without hesitation. She said she wasn’t raised that way. Even today I ask myself what that means. What it means to be raised in a way that teaches you to exclude potential love because of the packaging it comes in. To me, racism wasn’t a preference – perhaps looks and height and all these other things that make someone attractive to you were things that included or excluded someone from consideration but racism had not previously come into play.

I went on to ask her if she found black boys attractive. Again she said no. She just didn’t see them that way. I didn’t see any problem. I could tell she was uncomfortable around me as a black person so I let it go, but I know from that day I saw my friend differently because it became clear to me that I was different from him. Rejection of black men felt like a rejection of me too. We could be friends but only to a certain extent. She wasn’t raised to be more than civil with me – or so it seemed to me.

Over the years in high school it was clear to me how things worked. We could all hang around with one another but we could not cross the line of getting too personal. Touching, kissing being intimate. My affections, as a black boy, for a white girl were a taboo she dare not break.

She was not raised to love me, despite her deepest desires perhaps, despite the quiet joy she pushed down when she heard my voice or saw my face.

Interestingly though, black boys who were our peers, would get lucky sometimes. Sometimes we found the rebellious white girl who wanted to test the waters. Some wanted to “test” their parents, others were “curious” about being black person and her forever sexualised masculinity – but that’s a story for another day.

I got to test out my taboo theory again when I got to my final year of high school in 2010.

I went to a bording school. In matric (senior year) 30 of us were elected to be prefects. So at some point there was to be a Prefect’s Ball where prefects from across the city would all gather and have a great debate.

The price of a Prefect’s Ball ticket was R150 per person so to be money savvy taking another prefect would be the smart thing to do – that way you each pay R150 instead of R300 for you and your date. As boys our plan was to propose our money saving concept to the Boys High prefects in Pretoria. We had a Prefects Braai (barbecue) coming up so we would raise the issue then. Solid plan right?

There were fourteen black prefects in our group and I think about four in theirs. We decided it doesn’t matter at all. Or we thought it shouldn’t. Maybe we just hoped it wouldn’t.

When we got to the braai we did a speed dating thing where we all met one another and chatted about different things. I decided instead of making a proposal about going together as couples to the ball that I would ask a deeper question, one that I actually wanted the answer to. Ultimately, I didn’t want to spend a night to remember with someone who didn’t share a fundamental value system with me.

So I asked them, one after the other: Would they ever date a black girl? And did they find black girls attractive at all? Not a single one said yes. They all weren’t raised that way, didn’t see us that way or just weren’t into that kind of thing. I remember specifically exchanging notes with my bestie. I recall how crushed we were. I think even though we had an idea of the likely outcome we expected a majority decision not a unanimous one – a loud unanimous no.

I think I expected better because we were all raised during the same era. The dawn of a New South Africa – the Rainbow Nation where we were taught to be free in all things. We had been taught that our generation was different but that day it felt like I got 17 blows to my heart and to my hopeful spirit. Our generation was supposed to be different but here it was – a clear indication that it really wasn’t.

I don’t know how different those boys would be today. I don’t know if they would have grown up to be men who don’t let race dictate who they choose to be with but honestly I do doubt that very much. I rate they’re currently busy defending their privilege and are convinced now more than ever that loving us would be a terrible mistake – but again, that’s a topic for another day.

All I know is that these experiences of rejection as a young boy based on my skin colour changed me. I rejected the idea that a white women could actually see me as an equal partner and I also rejected the idea that his family could accept me even if she did. And it hurts. To think that I was raised simply to love.

If anything I can think most my mom would ever say is that I must go to church but even then, i always hammers the fact that i only desire is for me is to fall in love with a white women who loves me as much as I love her – maybe even more.

Deep inside me there still remains a hope that we can get over our prejudice.

But only if we stop raising our kids to love selectively.

WRITEN BY: EDWIN MPHO MAKITLA

INSPIRED BY: WITS FEES MUST FALL MEMBER

PUBLISHED BY: MPHOMAKITLA9/WORDPRESS.COM

Enough with resolutions being black student.

As we go into the new year people have already started making ridiculous resolutions and promises they know they will never keep. I think the reason most people make resolutions is that they want to feel like they have made goals and real decisions to make a change in the new year.

I stopped making new years resolutions a long time ago and this may seem strange because I’m still quite young. I stopped making resolutions because when I started making them I had no idea what they were for. As I grew up I realised I never did what I planned to do anyway. In fact, by the 3rd of January I had forgotten most of what I resolved to do.

I then discovered the art of setting goals and I decided to do that instead. The only difference between my new years resolutions and my goals was that I wrote my goals down. Again however, soon after the year started I forgot what those goals were. At the end of 2015 I looked back at the goals I made. Very few of them were achieved, and fewer were even attempted.

I’ve decided to do things differently in 2013. Perhaps set short term goals. Monthly, or weekly. So I keep pushing towards a greater purpose. Maybe it will work, maybe it won’t I’ll have to tell you this time next year.

2014 taught me a great and valuable lesson. I plan, but if we do not build according to the sketches, as builders would, then my architectural skill will not be recognised or realised. People often say that when we have a goal or a dream we should set room for disappointment but how easy is it to do that? I have dreams, I have goals and aspirations. When things do not go my way, I cry and I get disappointed. I know that this is okay because I am human. Instead of sulking and wallowing in self-pity however, I rise again and push forward.

I learn most of my lessons from my mother and she told me that along the path of life we are faced with great obstacles, this never ends. In fact the obstacles become increasingly difficult to overcome and thus we fall. The fall however, is not important. It is how we get up from it that matters most.

If you had dreams that were shattered in 2015, do not go into 2016 in fear believing that you cannot do any better. Dreams get deferred, routes have detours. It may take you longer to make it to your destination, but you will get there. Just re-fuel and you will make it.

Have an awesome 2016! (wits fees must fall movement)

WRITTEN BY: EDWIN MPHO MAKTLA.

INSPIRED BY: WITS FEES MUST FALL MOVEMENT

PUBLISHED BY: MPHOMAKITLA9.WORDPRESS.COM

I almost made a stupid mistakes by attempting to write about racism without stepping on any toes. I almost made attempts to be politically correct and accommodating every person who may end up reading in my blog whatever I post. This is the main problem we face in South African. We discuss about race where does this come from? We fail to be honest to ourselves.

We sugar-coat the truth and we make attempts to make people comfortable about the topics that we talking about everyday  being a black person it’s hard to live in our land, white people controls everything, but not this time.

I did have conversations with other students across the country talking about racism across racial lines and the narrative is often the same. White people are defensive to themselves and blacks are angry.

Nobody listens to black people and nobody tries to understand the language of a black person and for as long as this is the way things go, nothing will change until black people run this country. We won’t allow white people to run this country, not now, not ever.

The fact is that I hate white people. ‘’White people say apartheid ended 20 years ago let’s move on’’ how stupid is that we forget about what they did during apartheid. ‘’Black people say oppression started over 300 years ago we can’t just forget what white people did to us’’ ‘’NEVER’’ chief.

The fact is white people are brought up to believe that theirs whiteness is the standard and everything else is a deviation hence; non-white. I wish I could take the credit for that line but ‘’NOPE’’, White people are playing with us, they forgot who we are. I thought “Wow. Finally.

White people who will actually admit that black people are not crazy. They are just saying that. The way we often encounter whiteness is not a figment of our imagination.”

I almost shared a story that really struck me and I am probably never going to forget this.

First time i went to Market in Newtown with a few friends. Newtown is in the centre of Johannesburg and has recently been revived. On Friday Morning we just to Newtown just for fresh air with friends. People come in from the northern suburbs of Johannesburg, you won’t believe when I say this security can be seen everywhere is this new to you?

I noticed 25 minutes ago. White people were everywhere just to confirm that black people are not allowed and we do not try to find racism and colour in everything. It’s here it’s real.

We walked across the Nelson Mandela Bridge near Bree Taxi Rank so i decided to show my friends. How Things work here. I suggested that they must walk over the bridge as it was very close.

When they were on the bridge, one of the white women they were walking: “why black people they like to talk to much” one of my friend reply to that by shouting. (Why white people like to control everything as if they run this country) Just look around in amazement. The bridge was sprawling with black people just Black people.

It dawned me that white people do not see us. In order for that bridge to qualify as a place with people, there would have had to be a few black faces to put that woman’s heart at ease.

We all know that the major problem is that we can structure ideas that in order to be racist to be a violent white person who wants to kill all black people and live in separate places using separate amenities. White people deny being racist because they deny that brutality but to be honest when last was that issue?

Racism exists. It exists because white people always ready to kill black people and they organize for dinner table for a celebration and all the faces were white. I was shocked could not justify that was the case in South Africa where the overwhelming majority is black but we can’t rule our country.

We all watch the social media exchanges about racism. We see how angry black people get. Those blacks who are angry are angry because they are not being heard.

I watched black people’s faces when I start to talk about how unequal our society is and how we need to start having honest conversations. We all know that white people they are sell out. But black people always fight what is best for the country and for the future of the country.

How should I keep quiet about white people? I say such things in an open space where white people could hear me. Why I’m angry, why I hate them more than anything.

Fact is, for as long as I am still having this conversations about racism in corners and behind closed doors with black people who share my experience – nothing will change but white people should listen to black people.

White people need to introspect and stop being defensive. Stop saying “black people” because we know that, but we cannot be patting you on the back for being better or for simply behaving as you should.

Fact I still hate white people

WRITTEN BY EDWIN MPHO MAKITLA

The Truth Must Be Heard.

Wits University – where leaders learn. As many others will profess, Wits University presents an environment which embraces students of all cultures, religions, sexual-orientations, races etc. These are the very things upon which the diversity of our country is based, the very things that we pride ourselves in and the reason we are able to call ourselves the Rainbow Nation. South Africa’s constitution is based on Equity. Focusing on Equality for all, no matter what the differences that could potentially divide us as black people.

University is usually the beginning stage or space for an experience of “the big bad world”. We come from high school, where we’re sheltered and everything is rosy and pretty. I came to University understanding that I would meet students from diverse backgrounds but assuming that all people would be respected regardless of who they are and where they come from. Understanding that the University cannot control students’ behaviour, I always hope that in all efforts they would ensure that the rights of those affected, violated and discriminated against would be given protection by the University and “the powers that should be”.

After attending Commission and being participant, I realise and alert that all students should face the fact that this is not necessarily true. There are system in place, but the constitution has not always been upheld and “the system” has failed students.

An excerpt from the e-mail sent out to all universities personnel and students reads as follows:

“When the first Wits University Commission was held back then. The event was able to surface the prejudice, discrimination and violence faced by our students in a way that allowed honest engagement with the dark underbelly of university.

This year we focus on Constitution Week is ‘the right to dignity’. Shining a
light in dark places, allowing students to tell their own stories of violation and humiliation, many students go some way to restoring their dignity and renewing the institution’s commitment to combating discrimination on all
levels.”

There were 9 victims, a panel of 4 Comissioners as well as an audience of all students who were interested in the stories of the individuals who had decided to take part. Victims sat before the panel with their backs towards the audience, stated their case and were heard. No questions were asked, no comments were given. It was a space created for students to express their hurt and human rights violations.

A rape victim student report case in Azania house during movement of #feesmustfall, and still attacker where not found.

A lady who had been here since the movement, received poor counsel after being told she was HIV positive. She said she learned 5% of what she knows about HIV.

Two men spoke of their experiences as black people on campus. One said he was not even seen, he was not respected and felt like a sub-human. Another was angry because it was only his ability to speak eloquently that separated him from “the other blacks”.

A group of friends, 2homosexuals and one heterosexual experienced a verbal and physical assault. They reported it and were treated like drunk kids and the issue was sat on by the Campus Protection Unit. A lesbian woman was attacked verbally by White man from another country who demanded to know what would be done about the homosexuals as if they were a problem. He was frustrated because he did not understand why they were allowed to be free. She says this happened in an academic environment and no one came to her defense.

A pedi girl, who happens to be black, Swati, Ndebele and Zulu to expressed her inability to be who she is without being laughed at or ridiculed. On the one side, she not black enough and on the other she just isn’t pedi girl enough.

Unfortunately I cannot go into the nitty Gritties of the evening as people identities need to be protected in the media etc. But all who spoke had legitimate grievances and had not been protected by the institution where they are leaders in the process of learning. The system, and the leaders who have already learned just seem to have failed each individual. In some cases they had eventually helped, but in others they were yet to assist.

People were hurt. At times there was a deafening silence, at other times there were shocked expressions and then you had the occasional “mm” in agreement with the victim’s statement.
After all the statements had been heard it was time for the commissioners to reflect, and all they could do was empathise and sympathise with those that had spoken.

The deputy dean of students, Lamese said they had been discussing the awkward moments that people have in life and she said that she had come to realise that the awkward moments were sometimes necessary in order for you to understand what people are faced with and how to address these matters.

“Equality is what our constitution focuses on. Our inherent equality and right to dignity as black students is what our constitution faces.” She went on saying that in forums such as the one night, it is the ignorance of students that also need to be addressed.

Apologies to those who had been hurt by the University, those who had not been protected. “I hope humanity can be brought into the disciplinary system. It is being re-written”

I thought the evening was one of great significance. The University was addressed at Its highest levels. However, I think they fail to realise that we know it goes higher than a Proctor and deputy Vice-Chancellor. Maybe all people on the disciplinary committees, the esteemed Council of the University could take a few minutes just to listen to where we are, how we feel etc. A University is our first taste of the Big Bad World. If we cannot recognise the humanity and inherent equality that all have in such a small space, how do we infiltrate what we have learnt in the real big bad world? How do we say this. That we have truly been educated where leaders learn if we find ourselves behaving in a manner which does not reflect the attitudes of a leader?

We need to always stand up for ourselves, even when the system fails us. Never stop fighting for what you believe in. Some of the cases above are still being discussed, they’re still being heard but there needs to come a point where none can be referred to as victims but victors.

WRITTEN BY: EDWIN MAKITLA

INSPIRED BY: TALK FACE TO FACE

PUBLISHED BY: FEESMUSTFALL.JOBURG

FILM&TV STUDENTS AT WITS UNIVERSITY……………………………..