With risk of sounding prideful, I think it is fair to say that my identity and everything about my life up to this point has been very unique. After all, how many people have African, Chinese, Irish and Indian all contributing directly to their bloodline within the past 2 generations? How many people collect degrees of higher education from different continents and speak languages that don’t seem to correspond with their complexion? Indeed, I am never what people think I am based on my appearance and have always seen this as something good…even advantageous. I pride myself on it. I can always “blend in.” I can always connect to people by accessing that part of my heritage closest to that of the people I happen to be with. It’s a sort of paradox in my identity: inwardly I can forge a connection to almost any group of people, but outwardly I often don’t “blend in” at all!
When I was in Japan and Germany this “uniqueness” of mine was always an advantage. Since the beginning of my time here, however, it’s proved to be a double-edged sword. You see, on the one side, when I’m walking down the street I blend into the crowd. Nobody can tell I’m foreign by looking. I’m a small target for crime and locals readily trust me. They find me very approachable…to their eyes I’m one of them. The communities are quick to embrace me and nobody asks me for money (major plus being that most of my white counterparts are continually harassed!) On the other side, however, it is a hindrance. I suddenly find myself really needing people to recognize me for what I am. I’m the help. I’m the person with the training, the education, the know-how, and connections to try improve this community…that’s why I’m here after all. When locals look at me however, they think ‘typical young South African woman’…which translated to: under-educated, inexperienced and even inferior! For the truth of South African social hierarchy is that respect and authority come with age. That means that through their “cultural goggles” I am NOT the one to consult, to trust, to allow to lead or accept advice from. They accept me, but they don’t necessarily trust my expertise and skill. I notice some teachers still consult with the principal on issues of lesson planning and subject content rather than me even though that is one of my main jobs and I am more qualified than he is. He’s a man and he’s older which makes him the natural choice. If I were a white male, however, like my predecessor things would look a lot different, indeed they did when he was here…I witnessed with my own eyes…to the South African mind it seems to be more logical that the “white man” would have expertise and the “young black woman” would not.
It’s the lens of the Apartheid past leading to this Catch 22 of my camouflage. I see, however, that the more they witness me at work the more respect I seem to be gaining. They are beginning to see past their cultural perception to what I really am. It will be a bit of a process to prove myself, but I am assured that in the end, at least for those in my village, I will cease to be hampered by the innocent prejudice of my counterparts.
No comments:
Post a Comment