I loathe writing these pieces. For the most part, I have gone to believe that it lands on the fault lines of privilege.

One cannot be fatigued at the mention of issues of race, or any social issue for that matter. Those who sigh dismissively at the grievances of black people (people of colour included) or render their misery non-existent must face the reality of being force-fed. The reclaiming of ‘stolen’ spaces is one that offers no comfort. The privileged must make a decision to either, actively become part of this call for change or trot across the Indian Ocean to seek refuge there.

One hopes that it reaches those who can relate, those who huddle in uncomfortable staff-rooms to discuss their cries yet feel constantly paralyzed at the threat of losing their jobs – if they were to speak candidly about them. The thin lines that black professionals are forced to navigate in these institutions are nothing short of an ongoing misery or even wretchedness. The complexities of double consciousness, self-loathing, self-doubt which sometimes leads to nihilism is an ongoing battle that awaits black people.

It is perhaps natural to then ask, why then do black folk insist on existing in these institutions if they are constantly made to feel like outsiders? This is a fair question to ask. I explore a number of factors, peppered with my own observations, in an attempt to engage this question. To not exist in these spaces means having to deal with explicit bigotry, sexism, homophobia, and all the social ills that came with a boat. To not make too fine a point, means that we become enablers. The inverse comes with a cost, the cost of being marginalized, labeled as being radical or being an angry black woman or man.

One must be willing to unflinchingly face this shallow name-calling if indeed we are serious about being agents for social change at the heart of these colonial factories of education

‘If your success is defined as being well adjusted to injustice and well adapted to indifference, then we don’t want successful leaders.” We want great leaders

– who love the people enough and respect the people enough to be unbought, unbound, unafraid, and unintimidated to tell the truth’ – Dr. Cornel West After reading and dissecting West’s essay titled, ‘the dilemma of the black intellectual’ – the moment lent itself to a brief reflection about ‘a self, navigating colonial institutions of learning – the very glue which holds the legacies of colonial attitudes and modes of thinking and living together.

These institutions in the South African context are maintained by a band of brothers, a close-knit of old boys who congregate every now and then to discuss – without authenticity – how to respond to the ever-growing political pressure to transform these institutions at face value but primarily, on how to maintain the legacies of sometimes senseless and outdated traditions and staying true to the ethos of their beloved founders.

The systematic indoctrination of the young and vulnerable becomes accelerated and deepened with their entry into the cradle of gallows both for the black professionals and black students. The epistemic violence that reigns supreme is located at the center of their curriculum and is also at the very core of its social fabric. African knowledge systems are rendered non-existent or disregarded and sometimes unworthy of any acknowledgment.

Of course, this fits their agenda, it plays into a false narrative of black Africans as non-creators, as mere bodies who have been recipients of civilization, and as thoughtless roaming half-beings in need of a humanizing process. I probe again, given the violent outlook that white folks have on black people, why then, do black people still insist on living and existing in these spaces?

West notes: Given the constraints on black upward mobility and the pressures for status and affluence among middle-class peers, many black intellectuals principally seek material gain and cultural prestige. Since these intellectuals are members of an anxiety-ridden and status-hungry black middle class, their proclivities are understandable and, to some extent, justifiable, since most intellectuals are in search of recognition, status, power, and often wealth.

For black intellectuals this requires immersing oneself in and addressing oneself to the very culture and society that degrade and devalue the black community from whence one comes… to be put crudely, most black intellectuals tend to fall within two camps created by this predicament: Successful ones, distant from (and usually condescending toward) the black community, and unsuccessful ones, disdainful of the white intellectual world. But both camps remain marginal to the black community – dangling between two worlds with little or no black infrastructural base. (West Reader; pg. 305)

Primarily it is the need for material gain.

The socio-economic conditions of the poor and working-class have always been a principal determinant of the kind of institutions that black people end up working for. Again, ‘it requires immersing oneself in and addressing oneself to the very culture and society that degrade and devalue the black community from whence one comes’. This immersion requires that one ought to sit tight-lipped in the face of injustice and continue to smile, wave, and worship the hands that feed them. Black professionals find themselves at a crossroads. Understandably so, black people are usually on a financial quest to break the cycle of poverty that has existed in their families for centuries.

Having to contend with odds against them, to be secured in a well-paying job is a priority, given the fact some have black tax weighing over them. Alternatively, like the stoic, some give themselves over to the ‘revolutionary spirits’ and take less paying jobs at sometimes dysfunctional institutions, for the sake of the ‘cause’. In between these two extreme camps, lies the pragmatists who believe that they can fight the institutions from within – more on this later.

To merely exist in these institutions for black professionals is a privilege that is unattainable without some gut-wrenching sacrifices. For those who have been baptized with the literary works of a Steve Biko, the deep meditations of Prisoner Number 1323/69 – Winnie Mandela in ‘491 days in prison, the vocalized guttural cry of a Nina Simone in Strange Fruit, the politically motivated tunes of a Fela Kuti and finally the blue notes of a Miles Davis – it never entered my mind, Jonas Gwangwa on Foreign Native and the soothing voice of Thandiswa Mazwai on Wakrazulwa’, can understand the need to be an advocate. The aforementioned is also a part of our meditations and outlets during a time of need. With such influences, one cannot simply be tight-lipped in the face of bigotry, sexism, or homophobia.

Whilst white folk both conservative and liberal enjoy pleasant times with their families, read for leisure, take their dogs out for sundowners, the black caucus meet after hours, agonize about their experiences, and spend their time drawing out lengthy strategies on ways to ‘diplomatically bring about issues without being offensive in their approach’ or make everything about race’.

They spend their time organizing themselves on social networks as a means of creating a support base for their experiences. Similar to the Native club which existed post-1994 (2006). It was as a means to ‘generate a force that mobilizes and consolidates the intelligentsia as a social force to promote the ideas of transformation, networking and researching’ (Sithole; 2014; 372). The existence of such deliberate networks is very important. The well-adjusted blacks might see this as straying away from non-racialism and regression into re-segregationist tendencies.

To take this view is to lean toward a black consciousness approach or pick up from Sobukwe’s line of thinking with the establishment of the PAC. It must be understood that while they may be segregationist, it is easily justifiable. The intent of why black people gather on racial grounds compared to why white folks grouped themselves are not the same. It was based on an economic strategy, rooted in the seeing of the other as lesser than.

A far cry from what black folks are trying to achieve. Perhaps being white means anti-black and so they are mistaking being pro-black as being anti-white. It is a shallow and arrogant view to have. See, the recreation of the black body outside of whiteness is a direct threat to whiteness itself. That is why the attitudes of black excellence and pride are always met with duff commentary about the creation of white caucuses as a response to this. A signal of paranoia and insecurity. The most laughable of these is the side-commentary on how this powerful grouping is merely reverse racism.

Not to make too fine a point – We, the pragmatists in these institutions cannot just exist. Realistically, to expect everyone to be progressive in their views is perhaps unfair, however, the spoils of minor victories stretch out even to those who turn a blind eye to institutional racism – it is for this reason that we eye them with contempt.

Fundamentally, black people identify differently from white folks. The Western subject can be understood as a self-defining subject; ‘to define and to assert himself in the world in general in addition, ‘the western subject transforms itself into a master subject’ unto itself and unto others. The everyday language we use positioned white people as the standard of what it means to be human.

That is why there is a subconscious need to specify whenever it is something out of the ordinary. There is a clear historical reason for this which needs no explanation. The African Subject on the other hand (black folk), is deeply rooted in an understanding of the self in others and vice versa. This is the idea of collective identity. It is for this reason that the black folk can easily hold each other accountable for their role in the fight against social issues.

There is an almost inherent responsibility that hangs over black folk. However, the pragmatist is dealt a double blow in this regard. Not only must they deal with out-right bigotry and exclusion from the creators of some of these issues but they must carry dead weight – ‘the good blacks’. The ones who are the examples of well-adjusted blacks who turn a blind eye to the

unjustified violence that confronts black folk. The ones who believe that we ought to get on with the day-to-day tasks because the legacies of Apartheid have somehow disappeared and are non-existent. The good blacks, those who believe that their children should not be taught by black people, that white is always right – an even match to a Mr. Du Bois, or worse, an Uncle Ruckus.

However, even more so, the pragmatic black folk must contend with institutions that border on posing as being genuine on their stance but can never really rid themselves of their colonial or Apartheid-like sensibilities. One must internalize the realities of going against decades of traditions, not just any traditions of a random nature, the type of traditions that were created for the sole mandate of being the glue that upholds colonial modes of thinking and living. And so, to tackle institutions of learning is to tackle what lies at the very center of their existence. Almost as if to go against their being, they can never stomach honest dialogue around these issues. Very few institutions of learning actually get it right, especially those that belong to the category of ‘all boys or traditional schools’ – None appear on the radar as being authentic in their ‘noble quest to transform’. Their first line of defense is the demographics or the establishment of transformation portfolios – are in their minds indicators of being trailblazers toward transformation.

The next line is painful to write. It matters not whether you have 90% of your students as black – the feeders are usually institutions that are the same. It’s the good blacks – that have assumed the role of their colonizer. Meaning, the attitudes and thinking still resemble the sensibilities of the founders of these schools. Real transformation is not about demographics, it’s not about one or two chairs at the table. It’s almost redesigning the entire table and ensuring that the occupants of those chairs are genuinely receptive to change. In fact, all of the occupants must give in to being active agents themselves.

What is ruthless, however, in the moment of crisis, is how the institutions choose to deal with crises. Much is always done to put out fires for the sake of the badge. A story breaking-out into the media is a constant nightmare that every headmaster dreads, not the well-being of the victims. The investigations are carefully conducted in the dark regions of the schools, coupled with censored conversations and sometimes a direct order to not talk about burning issues of whatever nature. This culture of not speaking candidly about matters is a form of imprisonment.

It’s a culture that has long existed in spaces that are so big that the care for individuals is non-existent. The cry for candid conversations about incidents is counted with legal technicalities that leave the victims paralyzed and without a platform or freedom to express their pains.

This is a grim image, though a tip of the iceberg, of some of the harrowing experiences of black people in such institutions. I have long maintained that on a normal day I am human before I am black however nothing about my experiences is normal therefore I have to be black before I am human. It is this cloak that one must wear, it is the protracted war that we ought to engage in, we will carry on with this complex struggle, until, in the ancestor’s time, with all the power and might that we are able to muster – without fear – speak out and rescue this complex liberation movement.

The socio-economic conditions of the poor and working-class have always been a principal determinant of the kind of institutions that black people end up working for. Again, ‘it requires immersing oneself in and addressing oneself to the very culture and society that degrade and devalue the black community from whence one comes’.