Back to what really matters

DANI SACK

Pumping music and rows of teachers welcome us back to school, and in spite of the cold weather, my heart fills with warmth. There is much excited chatter as I wave hello to friends, sanitise my hands, have my temperature checked, sanitise again, and make my way to class.

Assigned desks, socially distant chats, and lockdown tales characterise my days back at school, and I couldn’t be more satisfied. And yet, something is preventing me from being completely content.

These past few days have been dominated by the Black Lives Matter protests in America following the horrific murder of an innocent black man, George Floyd. I’ve found myself desperate to help, sharing educational posts on social media, signing endless petitions, donating where I can, and educating myself about the history of racism, police brutality, white privilege, and more.

I feel a compulsion to be alongside those American citizens, protesting against police brutality and systemic racism. As I sit in biology classes, learning about the different genes that code for certain characteristics, I can’t help but wonder how one can be racist.

I understand that for many of us, this racism is internalised, something we need to unlearn, especially those of us who lived in the apartheid era, who were brought up in a racist society, and struggle to overcome taught stereotypes and supremacist ideals.

But, our genes are the same. We are all made of the same material, we all bleed the same blood – what difference does the colour of our skin make? Again, my mind wanders in history class, as my teacher explains the significance of civil disobedience and protests in the civil-rights era, and I subconsciously make the connection with the current distribution of power at a time that so closely mirrors America of the 1960s.

And then, as Youth Day approaches, the issue of systemic racism and police brutality becomes even more relevant in South Africa. Hector Pieterson, a young black schoolboy peacefully protesting Bantu Education in the Soweto uprising, was shot by a white policeman on 16 June 1976.

Clearly, this is a universal issue, and particularly relevant to us South Africans. A boy, who was just a few years younger than me was killed in Soweto in 1976 simply because of the colour of his skin, and too many black people in America are suffering the same fate today.

We have to take action and educate ourselves. We must hear the cries of people of colour everywhere who need us to amplify their voices.

As white people, we are inherently privileged. I keep that in mind as I re-enter my school after so many weeks. I’m not behind in my work. I have been able to continue to learn online, and yet my fellow matrics, those who still live in the townships and slums 26 years after the end of apartheid, have missed out on the majority of their syllabus due to a lack of equipment. It’s time for change.

The American protest is on everybody’s lips. My classmates and I discuss our views openly. I complain about the cold classrooms and long lessons, but every time I do, three words flash in my mind: Black Lives Matter. Because they do.

I would never attempt to be the voice of these severely oppressed people, but I would like to do my part in helping them be heard because I’m fortunate to have a wide-reaching platform. I encourage everyone to do their part and combat racism in all its forms, because in the end, as Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Life’s most urgent question is: what are you doing for others?”