The psychological burden of profiling young black males in South Africa

http://www.pambazuka.org/images/authors/Doreen-Lwanga.jpgAlthough there is much for Africans to celebrate in post apartheid South Africa, Doreen Lwanga is troubled by the 'psychological burden' of having to engage in the profiling of black youth when walking the streets of urban centres such as Johannesburg.

A while ago, I wrote about the psychological trauma that beggars on the New York City subway undergo, as they prepare to ask passengers for a dollar. Here, I would like to explore the psychological burden of profiling young black males in South Africa as a visitor to the country.

I recently travelled to South Africa. I had not been to South Africa since I left in 2001, following a year of working with the Lawyers for Human Rights Refugee Rights Project in Pretoria. I had promised myself never to return to South Africa because of the 'not-so-friendly' welcome I received when I was there. I had gone to South Africa assuming that I would be 'going home', but my inability to speak any of the eleven national languages prohibited me from freely enjoying the social scene.

South Africa provides hope to so many Africans on the continent. Its diversity of culture, landscape, vibrancy, peoples, history, leadership and resilience makes it the most admired and one of the most sought after destinations. It has become a favoured destination for many international Africans students and academics flock to pursue a world-class education, teaching or research experience outside their home countries. It is Africa’s economic capital.

Many Africans like me who visit or live in South Africa want to enjoy a part of it or be a part of it. We expect a 'home welcome' and a pat on the back, yet many of us, particularly from outside Southern African are profiled because we do not speak any of the South African black languages.

Amazingly, both South Africans and foreigners in the country are scared of street life and miss out on the most vibrant experience of any city. We are warned of walking in the city without clinging onto our handbag during the day and scared from enjoying the night life for fear of rape, murder or robbery in the cities of Johannesburg and Pretoria. The tourists and immigrants claim crime is high in these cities because there are many unemployed young South Africans. While South Africans claim it is due to the high influx of immigrants.

I remember one evening in 2000 while I was walking home from work in Pretoria at about six o’clock, two young black males came running after me. When they approached me, one pulled my bag while the other struggled to break my necklace. As I fought back and yelled for help, none of the passer-bys stopped to rescue me from these attackers. If this had happened on the streets of Kampala, the mob would surely have meted out justice onto these two robbers.

Certainly, it is expected that we all take the necessary precaution while living in big cities. I realise that it is risky to park one’s Pajeros on some streets of Pretoria or Johannesburg in the night without guaranteed security. However, I am bothered that I can safely walk the streets of Kampala or New York without psychological fear of attack, rape or murder from young black males unlike in Johannesburg or Pretoria.

Then I wonder, am I, like many other foreigners and South Africans living in these cities, too paranoid? Are we too impatient with the recently acquired public space that the new South African transition ushered in for free enjoyment of all, including young black males? Is it just young black males clearly restricting our ability to move freely within Johannesburg and Pretoria, and are they all South Africans?

Clearly we have many reasons to celebrate that the new South Africa has extended to many of us from the rest of Africa easier access to its borders without the cruel apartheid system.

However, I do not want to live a stratified lifestyle where those who consider 'to have' live under key and lock from those who supposedly 'do not have'.

I enjoy street life, and the ability to interact with local people and observe the daily lives of ordinary people. I enjoy public transport and do not want to be chauffeured around in private car hire at seven times the cost of public transport.

I hate the fact that walking the streets of Pretoria and Johannesburg makes me paranoid, particularly when as a black person I participate in black-on-black profiling.

As a black person and a self-acclaimed black nationalist, I cannot bear the psychological burden of profiling young black males on the streets of South Africa nor deny myself the opportunity of opening my Luganda or English-speaking mouth for fear of attack from my own people.

* Doreen Lwanga is an Africa Scholar, Researcher and Activist working in the areas of African security, Pan-Africanism and Higher education in Africa.

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