I’ve always wondered what I would do if it happened to me. How I would respond if confronted with racism? Would I stand my ground or let my anger explode, as it did when I finally stood up to my bully in primary school?
Nevertheless, it happened – my first encounter with racism – and I did nothing about it, dear reader.
What was I supposed to do? Tell me. I never prepared for this. Do people practise comebacks in front of a mirror, just in case, one day, racism shows up uninvited?
It happened after an industry event as I was walking through the parking lot. A young white man, around my age, made a racist remark to his friends, referring to me using the k-word.
They were visibly affected by alcohol, but that’s not an excuse, nor does it change the fact that the k-word is deeply offensive and considered the most racist in South Africa. Didn’t he realise he could face a severe fine or imprisonment for such a slur?
I work as a journalist in the agricultural sector, and through my work, I’ve seen the very best and the very worst of SA’s farming community. My experiences with farmers of all backgrounds have always been positive.
Still, the words of the unkind stranger echoed in my ears as I walked on, pretending not to hear. One of his white friends gently reprimanded him.
Isn’t it strange how a moment like this can shrink you to silence? That day, I said nothing – only now, as I share it with you, dear reader.
I’m not one to avoid confrontation, so why did I stay silent? Was it because he was drunk? What good would it have done? Could it have turned into a fight? I’m not sure – I couldn’t risk that, especially not at a work event. And, honestly, I hadn’t been in a fight since primary school, so I’d probably lose. Go ahead, laugh – I am.
I wrote this column after reading a book on apartheid and racism. Noni Jabavu: A Stranger at Home, authored by Makhosazana Xaba and Athambile Masola, has stirred something within me. It has made me question things I had never fully considered before.
For example, why do I sometimes adjust my smile when a white person approaches, as if to make them feel comfortable? Or to say: “I mean you no harm.”
Noni, a South African writer who had spent much of her life abroad, was forced to confront race in ways she never had when she returned to SA in 1976.
As a child, she was shielded from the harsh realities of racism. But returning in the ’70s as a middle-aged woman, she was forced to face the cruel realities of apartheid. In her columns for Daily Dispatch, she expressed shock at these struggles, particularly as a black woman with a British passport.
In a way, Noni’s return to SA in 1976 reflects the same discomfort I feel in 2025.
I recently came across another book titled God’s Waiting Room: Racial Reckoning at Life’s End by Casey Golomski, an anthropology professor. It explores how even racists can change when confronted with their own biases.
It challenges the belief that change is impossible, inspiring us to rethink our assumptions.
Dear reader, I hope I never find out what I will do if someone calls me the k-word again. For now, I choose to offer the racist stranger grace, remembering that everyone is capable of change.. Duncan Masiwa is assistant editor at Food For Mzansi, a digital agriculture news publication, and a resident of Macassar.
