CAPE TOWN - “The spirit of oppression still lingers,” I heard someone once say, but is this really a fair and just view of Stellenbosch University today?
As the institution undergoes a comprehensive facelift (external and online), showcasing its newly designed logos, multicultural posters and banners as a mark of progressiveness, looking to shed any remnants of its contentious history, the ugly face of oppression still rears its head today, even though passively.
Note that this piece is meant to raise awareness and shed some much-needed light on issues involving micro-aggressions and racial gaslighting in the workplace.
It is also meant to enlighten those who fail to recognise the struggles and perils that people of colour continue to face in the workspace, even in the age of #BLM.
During my employment, I had to check my thoughts a few times. I had to recalibrate my thinking and realign myself with the belief that “all is meant in good faith” between colleagues and managers. In certain instances, I was so sure that what I had heard (matters unrelated to me or general spoken matters) or experienced directly was, in fact, borderline prejudice, the kind where the veils between what is politically incorrect or something said in jest are separated by a hairline.
It is hard to prove what someone really means or their intention, but words do set apart what “is” from what “isn’t”. Moreover, actions also speak volumes as far as intent is concerned, also inactions.
Last year, I found myself in a very uncomfortable but surreal situation in an online meeting between myself and a white male freelancing contractor – we were meant to exchange ideas on a project we were tag-teaming. We exchanged pleasantries and were on friendly terms, as far as I was aware (email exchanges).
Everything was going swimmingly, but all of a sudden and in an unprincipled manner, the freelancer abrasively exclaimed that our working relationship would function so long as I did exactly as he instructed, no questions asked. Mind you, he was in no position to instruct me, nor was he a permanent employee at the institution. So why did this man believe I was beneath him, and not his equal? I was obviously taken aback.
I did not know how to respond. I laughed it off instead, and the meeting concluded soon thereafter.
It dawned on me afterwards that this person never once spoke to my white female colleagues disrespectfully, so what was the problem?
In my experience, and especially as a woman of colour in Cape Town, white men have a difficult time reporting to a woman of colour. Generally speaking, they have an even harder time seeing themselves as equal to, or on an equal footing, even if both hold the same qualification. Women of colour are often stereotyped as those who are always in service to others, and never in leadership positions.
I informed my superiors about the incident, and a meeting ensued. At first, I believed it to be a supportive move, but then I was reminded by my manager that the person in question was a contractor and had no direct affiliation with the institution and that he did not represent what the institution stood for, i.e. equality and transformation.
A lot of “red tape talk” happened before I spoke. After my testimony, I was troubled when a senior told me that “this was my experience or my truth”, i.e. through my lens, so not necessarily an incontrovertible truth, that the freelancer was probably having a “bad day” and so it went on.
This made me feel very guilty for speaking out, as though all of this was my fault somehow. I felt that they viewed me as an “agitator”.
The inability of my white female seniors to recognise this for what it was only engendered further frustrations and fuelled my resentment towards them. I found myself having to explain my story over and over, and the problem fell at my feet, so to speak.
It was later revealed to me that my seniors had allowed this man to continue to serve out the rest of his contract, hiding behind the technicality that I failed to formalise the matter, and thus they couldn’t approach him out of fear of appearing partisan. But after I highlighted the problem, I soon became the problem.
Following my complaint, my managers frequently put me under pressure to deliver. I found myself always having to explain myself – I would get questioned about “delivery of work”.
I was once asked to provide “proof of work”. No staff member had ever been asked to do so before, and I was even removed from a project once without proper justification.
I was given excessive amounts of work with impractical deadline dates and “skilfully” belittled in meetings as though a child (a few times). My workload was double that of my teammates, but I always managed to deliver.
To me, there was an obvious thread in all of this not-so-passive bitterness. I chose not to formalise it, yes, but out of fear of intimidation and reproach from the person in question, I made this very clear.
The person in question, however, was never asked to explain himself, and he was never questioned at all – on principle, he should have at least been questioned, but everything rested on a slight technicality, i.e. I chose not to take the matter further. I was put through the wringer (meeting after meeting), all the while he knew absolutely nothing, and still this man was allowed to contact me afterwards.
My white managers understood how this made me feel, and they “empathised”; they understood that this was a very serious affair, but they chose to cower behind technicalities instead. I believed that my seniors had unquestionably failed me at this point.
I was exposed, and I felt unsafe. White fragility is complex. It is a catalyst for racial gaslighting, and it preserves a kind of “entitlement mentality” in some, and Stellenbosch University is no stranger to race-related controversy. In 2015, the documentary Luister detailed the plight of students of colour and the racially charged battery (and language policy) they had to contend with at the institution.
In 2019, in the journal Ageing, Neuropsychology, and Cognition, a racist article circulated discussing the intelligence levels of coloured women – alleging that they have an increased risk of low cognitive functioning, because they have low education and unhealthy lifestyles – the article has since been retracted after receiving a slew of negative reports.
The article was especially offensive because it is this kind of thoughtless and hubristic attitude that cultivates ignorant beliefs about people of colour.
This, in turn, feeds into the concept of “othering”, in Stellenbosch and in general.
It is now 2022, and I am one of those who are still not convinced that the culture in Stellenbosch is reflective of unity, diversity and the spirit of ubuntu. Adding more black, indian and coloured faces to a brochure or a poster does not uproot the racial gaslighting, micro-aggressions and the stereotyping often experienced by people of colour in the workplace.
The shadows of the past will be present in every corridor and every office if the above is always met with denialism, apathy and complacency.
Change as far as the eye is concerned is not very difficult. It is reform at a fundamental level that needs addressing.
Some people parade the reworked designs as a demonstration of change, but they are nothing more than pageantry. If you want to change, accept responsibility. It is not the job of my people alone to educate you on how to behave or how to perform.
Accept your role in this affair because wilful ignorance only adds fuel to the fire.
Finally, readjust the lens through which you view such matters because black lives matter continues to be an abstract notion, especially to those who live in a bubble.
*Anonymous is a former employee at Stellenbosch University.
Cape Times