There are a few negative observations in this post. You
might think I am being prejudiced, and if so, that’s fine, lets chat. It won’t
be the first time I have needed an adjustment in my thinking or attitude. But,
let me preface this by saying that the things I observed and mention here are
not reflections on all Batswana. “Botho” is still the rule. The rudeness we
have experienced is not cultural. It might be that AIDS stole the parents of a
whole generation of kids who grew up without someone to pass on important
cultural values, and young adults have more than enough legitimate reasons to
be angry. It might be the function of a lot of inequality throughout history;
it might be strictly generational. Elderly Batswana are some of the warmest,
kindest people I have ever known. So, I don’t mean for this to be a comment on
Botswana culture, only a comment on what it means to be different- something
I’ve felt the shame of pretty much everywhere, but very keenly here.
I come from a very privileged place in this country and also
in the world. Just take a look at patterns of inequality across the globe
sometime. If you have the time, skills, and resources to read a blog, you are
probably also a member of a very disproportionate 1%. So, we have no right or
reason to complain about disadvantage in any way. Sometimes, though, it’s
easier to understand something through your own experience, so that’s what I’ll
try to do here.
Just as the day is cooling off on Fridays, I like to go for
a run through the “lands” where I can usually be alone. One particular Friday,
I was harassed more than usual by men: men cat-calling from donkey carts, men
saying “hey baby, hey baby!” from their fields, and men yelling various other
things. For once, I found myself relieved that at least there were no school
children yelling “lekgoa!”
Let me back up. Catcalling is sexism. I don’t like it. I
don’t know anyone who does. It is often pointed out that it doesn’t even work,
so why do guys do it? Say a woman is walking down the street with an armful of
groceries. A car drives by and the driver whistles at her. She drops her bags
and runs after him. “You make me feel so beautiful! I’m ready to take this to
the next level! Won’t you please ask me out on a date?” It doesn’t happen. He
is never successful in “getting” the girl. But the goal isn’t to get the girl.
The goal is for him to exercise his power and for her to feel uncomfortable, so
in that sense, it usually works. Otherwise, people wouldn’t continue doing it.
“Lekgoa” (white person) is a different experience all
together. People disagree on whether this is derogatory. Most people claim it
is not. In fact, a dear friend explained it to me this way. “It is not a bad
word”, she said. “In fact, it is a good thing. People call their bosses and
beautiful people ‘lekgoa’ also.” Sensing that this equivalent was making me
even more uncomfortable as I started to wonder about the history and
connotation of this word, she explained, “It’s like in America, if you saw me
you would yell ‘black person’ at me…um excuse me ‘African American’.” Hmmm. For
some reason, I was having difficulty explaining that although, yes, people of
darker colors are generally grouped into one catchall category in America and
called “black”, they are not actually called
“black, as in “Hey! Hey! Hey! Everybody that can hear me! Check it out,
it’s a black person!” Reflecting on my experience of lekgoa, that is partly
what bothers me: it is hardly ever directed at me (Once, I was greeted with
“whatsup my ‘kgoa’?” and it wasn’t bad). It is directed to others, about me.
And that hurts my feelings. I know I’m different. Almost daily, people point, they mock my
accent by repeating things I say in a nasally way, or they mock the way I walk
in an exaggerated strut. Kids that don’t know me refuse to greet me, even
though I am their elder (a huge faux pas in Setswana culture) because they are
too busy staring at this alien thing. That
isn’t discrimination or racism. It is just stigma. It is being marked as
different because of some quality. It is the same thing that happens to HIV
positive people. Even though people are educated enough to know not to
discriminate, positive people are still set apart as different (even with their
own building at the clinics), and that is enough to make people refuse
treatment. No one likes to be an outsider, and no one understands how awful it
feels (even when no one is being overtly mean, just staring or paying extra
attention) until it’s you in the minority.
Education is a big part of it. And this is another reason
that I have no right to complain. A lot of kids in Ramotswa don’t know about
the diversity in the world. They don’t know that stigma hurts people’s feelings
because they haven’t been taught to think critically or draw parallels to being
made fun of, laughed at, or excluded by bullies at school. They have never been
out of Ramotswa and never experienced being different. Even the kids in Old
Naledi had more education in terms of experience of diversity by nature of
living embedded in the capital city. In that sense, it is I who am privileged
to know how it feels to be different and to be the same. There is no history of
oppression of my race here (in fact, quite the opposite- which could
legitimately intensify feelings of racial hostility- but people are kind enough
to not let it, usually). However, in a place like Kansas, where there actually IS a history of racial oppression to
compensate for, people in the majority often don’t understand why people in the
minority still feel racism when nothing overtly hateful is being done. Maybe
feeling just a tiny bit of stigma is a small window into why that is.
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