Thinking as the rethinking of thoughts momentarily considered

Thinking as rethinking of thoughts momentarily considered

I have had time away from considering “colouredness”, to consider considering – interrogating thinking and the act of thought in fundamental process: thought that is a continual rethinking. At the recent, Fanon Fifty Years Later Colloquium at Rhodes University, Grant Farred’s paper used Heidegger as an entry point into the notion of thinking from the beginning. Considering the depths, and positing the project of thinking as fundamental inquiry that is a necessarily iterative process, Farred’s paper has stayed with us students as a challenge and a paradigm shift.

My time away from writing has led to many alterations in the first thoughts I momentarily considered: whether the declarative statements I made about the phenomena of “colouredness” or the fairly unthought ideas put down in haste – the thoughts that are not really thoughts, since they have not been subject to rethinking and critique from within. The ideas that I am beginning to formulate for my masters keep changing, in some instances minor shifts and in others theoretical quakes that requires a complete repositioning and again asks for rethinking.

For example, the Kuli Roberts debate – that has now been put to rest along with so many other necessary debates that suffer and all too early death in the graveyard of post-apartheid enquiry –represents something distinct from the ostensible questions of representation that it poses. It is easy to get caught up in the representation questions, but beyond the surface the greatest issue is that of the silencing of these debates: no matter how necessary. The post-apartheid project booms loudly over the constant debates that quickly quiet down to mutterings and whispers and then are quickly forgotten, only to be recalled when yet again we face the failure of addressing what it means to be in South Africa now. This is not a fresh, clean country that has wiped the slate of history – but one that comes to us carrying its baggage all too evidently. Again, Grant Farred astutely argues:

The concept of colouredness and its effects, the way in which it informs the thinking, political responses, the voting tendencies, the cultural particularities, the divided, bifurcated racial consciousness, of this South African constituency can only be understood if it is publically ‘debated’, ‘extended (in the sense that it is subjected to a demanding intellectual interrogation) and ‘quarrelled’ over and over again – Grant Farred, 2000: 8 -9

This intellectual interrogation is indeed demanding, requiring treading through minefields and murky waters and fundamentally insisting on thinking, and not the first thoughts that readily present themselves, masquerading as thinking. It is a critical project that is punctuated by inconsistencies and profound paradoxes, but most importantly, it is one of the most necessary enquiries in our post-apartheid context. To return then to this project, considering colouredness, is to start a thinking that will be arduous, demanding, slippery and complex – but that can indeed only be understood through fidelity to thinking: thinking as beginning again, thinking as the rethinking of thoughts momentarily considered.

To Have Nothing to Lose

I wrote this inspired by the work of the incredible Frantz Fanon

To have nothing to lose

by Danielle Alyssa Bowler


In 2004, an article written by Zenzile Khoisan titled “Crime hits coloureds hardest-study” was published in the Cape Argus. It drew on Phil Leggett’s “research”, which claimed coloured people have a greater propensity for violent crime. The article engendered much discord, particularly over the acceptance or rejection of the term “coloured”. Gino Fransman, an academic from the University of the Western Cape, wrote a response in which he embraced the term, while questioning the homogenisation of the racial group, which triggered this response by (Chief) Joseph D. Little:

If you truly want to take this matter of your identity seriously, as some of us have, then you will stop calling yourself a coloured. You will call yourself what our first nation indigenous ancestors called themselves: Khoi-Khoi (or Khoi-San). It simply means people or humankind. In order to be a true Zulu or Xhosa, you must have a language and a land… I have not found a coloured who speaks coloured and lives in colouredland (Fransman, 2005: 25, my emphasis)

When viewed in light of Little’s response, W.E.B Du Bois’ notion of double consciousness emerges within Fransman’s attempt at self-description. It raises the problem of articulating the self in “a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world” (du Bois, 1905: 3). Thus the self is conscious of other interpretations of their reality, other articulations of their way of being in the world – and has to articulate itself in relation to this other world, not the inverse.  It is a peculiar sensation: being at once whole and splintered. To occupy a body that has to qualify its existence, that has to measure its “soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity” (du Bois, 1905: 3). Not because of a lack, but though overabundance the Coloured body articulates itself through ancestral plethora, often simplified through the evocation of the black/white binaries: firmly positioned in the middle. Thus to inhabit the interstices[1] is to occupy a precarious space: a space that inhibits movement within the colour spectrum provided by rainbow nation rhetoric and apartheid’s residue, a space that is both undefined and overly defined, as if defies easy definition yet fixed borders have been delineated . It is a space in which the “basic importance” Fanon ascribes to “the phenomenon of language” operates with great difficulty. 

For Fanon, “to speak is to exist absolutely for the other (Fanon 17).The lack of a speaking “coloured”, does not mean a non-existence, but rather the existence of multiple languages, converging within the mixed-race body. This in my experience, it becomes not about the pragmatics of speaking English, but about the interplay of language and culture, as Fanon would rightly claim to speak a language is to “assume a culture” (17). However, the overabundance of language (and culture) within the coloured body causes a profound complexity in dealing with this phenomenon.

There is a Zulu on my stoep

As a young child, I have memories of Zulu being spoken around me – understanding it as being used for its practicality, linking my family’s knowledge of Zulu to the fact that grandparents owned a farm and it was the language of its farm workers,. As I got older, and more existential, enquiring into my history and trying to trace my family tree revealed the silencing of Zulu ancestry – perhaps as it was unpopular to embrace black heritage during Apartheid, within the coloured community. Thus, I began to attempt learning the language, intentionally pulling at the roots, stuttering and stumbling through the familiar clicks and the unfamiliar grammar – aided by the songs of Brenda Fassie and Mafikizolo and a very patient domestic worker as my tutor. However, this language assumes a culture that I have little access to – again, I found myself on the peripheries, on one side of the racial binary that is used to measure a coloured soul. As I further enquired my bodies archive the presence of other cultures and histories asserted themselves, bringing their languages with them. But, from the lessons learned in learning Zulu, I was acutely aware that to learn Portuguese or French, or any other of the languages in the vast archive that constitutes my history, would not give me direct access to their assumed cultures. 

Poverty of Choice

A cultural poverty emerges within this rich history – a paradox, as having so much to draw on implies an agency, but this very agency is inhibited by the presence of so much. To use so much is deliberate, as what there is, what constitutes much is often unknown – tracing the family tree leaves many loose ends, many (intentionally) severed roots. This is not to deny the strong presence of ancestral roots within some coloured communities, families and individuals. This is only to speak of that which I know, a singular experience that may have resonances for some, but not be the experience of others. Grant Farred (2000: 14) remarks that to be coloured is an “uneven experience” – different for all those who are called by a singular name: a name that implies a singular culture, and a singular way of being. This singularity often draws on the Cape in its attempts to reduce the experience of coloured people and language to Afrikaans (ignoring even the difference present in the Cape). However, with a relationship with Afrikaans gained not in a home, but at school, I find myself even outside the interstices, as the way “colouredness” has been constructed rejects the experience of those who do not fit within the homogenised identity. But if to speak is to exist, then speaking English gives access to existence. However, an acute splintering occurs in light the knowledge of the presence of other ways of existing, of other languages that cry out from within an embattled body.

Conclusion

For who belongs nowhere, is to nothing/deeply attached (Arthur Nortje, in Farred, 2005: 59).

With language and identity so intrinsically linked, I long for a language to lose. Hearing the narratives of those who lament the dying of their cultures and languages in the face of Westernisation, I long to have a voice in which to assert my loss, I long to have a culture to sever ties with. However I am aware that it is not the loss that I long for, it is having something to lose – to reject or accept myself, for agency. But the loss happened long before me, and in the face of overabundance, the choice was not mine to make. Uncomfortably inhabiting the interstices is to constantly “feel the ground give way beneath one’s feet”, as one is forced to vacillate between binaries and wrestle within. 

Paradoxically, the presence of the overabundance of language, which ostensibly gives proximity to these multiple worlds, causes a profound lack: a nothingness of sorts. I find myself deeply attached to this nothingness: questioning its constitution, pulling out all the strands within the overabundance that caused it. In the introduction to Black Skin, White Masks, Homie Bhaba asks “How can the human world live its difference? How can a human being live Other-wise?” (Bhaba, cited in Fanon,1986/1957:xvii). Thus, I find myself increasingly committed to both understanding and constructing a way of living difference, asserting this difference through articulating what it means to occupy the interstices: what it means to speak and feel the force of other languages as they silently assert their presence.

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[1] See Farred, 2000. The Midfielders Moment

By any other name...

Cartoon: Neal Obermeyer

Increasingly, I find myself obsessed with the idea that everything comes down to thoughts, and more precisely what determines thought, particularly in relation to naming. Socially, we construct understandings through naming. This naming, is seemingly unproblematised. We need words, we use them daily in our interactions, we use them without questioning them...they seem to have always been there. We need to name something within our societies so we can understand it. We need to know "things", and therefore to know them, we name them. Thus thoughts become shared ideas, shared constructions of names, these names become categories, and we create knowledge about the categories through going through this circular process again. What am I on about?

Well, essentially it is an issue that goes back to the question: "is there a coloured identity". For me, it all starts with the name, the created category, formed because Apartheid and its architects necessitated it. But the name has currency within our post-Apartheid reality...so it is (often) unquestioningly adopted. So, we are stuck with the "abandon/embrace" debate that characterises much scholarship on coloured identity. It is a complex situation, mostly because we are a complex people - grouped together despite our heterogeneity. and this grouping is important, because within our different locations and between different people, we have formed our own understandings of what it means to BE COLOURED. We have socially constructed colouredness as well.

These constructions counter the imagined coloured community that dominates both popular thought and consciousness, some times mirroring it, some times directly opposed to it, but mostly ignored because of the process of naming, and the invisibility of the architecture behind it.But mostly, and posing a more complex problem, these understandings of what it means to "be" are often at odds with each other. Thus, I find myself in the interstices, in the interstices: caught in the traditional idea of being between black and white, and caught in between ideas of what it means to be coloured from within the community itself. Named, yet the name feels strange on my tongue, I say it daily and each time I say it I feel something stirring, a questioning of the name that gets stronger with each utterance.

I found this today and find it quite profound in light of the above argument:

Talking Heads: Give me back my name

There's a word for it
And words don't mean a thing
There's name for it
And names make all the difference in the world
Some things can never be spoken
Some things cannot be pronounced
That word does not exist in any language
It will never be uttered by a human mouth...
Let X make a statement
Let breath pass through those cracked lips

Ryland Fisher asks the important questions

Ryland Fisher (photo credit: rylandfisher.book.co.za)  

In reading much of the current work on coloured identity (whether within formalised structures of academic, or the media and stretching to include public debate), there is much generalisation that occurs. However, occasionally, there are voices that insert themselves with much intelligent thought and consideration. One such voice is that of Ryland Fisher, who in the Mail and Guardian's ThoughtLeader blog section, has written a considered piece on whether a coloured identity can be said to exist. A fantastic piece of nuanced and detailed work that is notable in its contribution. Also, could be seen as the antithesis of Kim Smith's claims about coloured people, specifically in relation to Trevor Manuel referring to himself as "black". Here, Fisher employs the epithet in relation to its "black consciousness" roots, which Smith should have referred to, if she was to stand in opposition to its use.

I find his article extremely intelligent and interesting, especially in light of his identification that:

The issue of whether there is a coloured identity is not new, but it surfaces every now and then. It seems to surface more every time we are heading for another election (Fisher,

Additionally, he makes an important claim - that requires a lot of investigation: the fact that the category "coloured" was created by the Apartheid government to deal with those who could not fit neatly delineated boxes, yet still has currency in the post-Apartheid reality(ies). Do we employ these categories because it is easier? And if it is easier does this necessarily make it better? I always like to draw attention to the language that we use, because language makes reality, and is directly related to what we claim to know. Knowledge is power - and what does the use of the word "coloured" say about those in power?



Here is Ryland Fisher's article (available on the Mail and Guardian page; all credit to the Mail and Guardian online):

Is there a coloured identity?

 

Some media forms work better than others for different things. For instance, it is difficult to describe a song in writing because one can only appreciate its nuances when one is listening to it.
In the same way, it is probably impossible to try to have a debate about something as complex as “coloured identity” in five minutes on television. This debate is probably best suited to a documentary, a radio programme, a newspaper or magazine article, or a book.
Yet last Sunday, I tried to have this debate with two other studio guests on Weekend Live on SABC2. Apart from a host of mess-ups, like us not being able to link to the guest in Tshwane and my connection from Cape Town being lost when I was trying to make a crucial point about why I call myself black as opposed to coloured, it was also difficult to have this debate in the limited time available.
As it was, we were not treated to any of the views of the representative of a website called Bruin-ou.com and I would have loved to have debated his views. Maybe somebody involved in another media form will take up the challenge and get us together to debate this issue once again.
I have never considered myself to be a coloured and prefer to describe myself as black, in line with the definitions explained by Steve Biko in the 1970s. At the time, the apartheid regime called us non-whites and Biko questioned why “white” had to be the standard against which everything was judged. He asked why “black” could not be this standard. He argued that we should all call ourselves black (Africans, coloureds and Indians), and whites should be called non-blacks.
These definitions have, of course, been entrenched in our law and our Constitution, so I can legally call myself black.
The issue of whether there is a coloured identity is not new, but it surfaces every now and then. It seems to surface more every time we are heading for another election.
At first I used to reject the notion of coloured identity out of hand; recently I have become much more sensitive towards it, but I still cannot see myself adopting this identity. However, I understand completely why some people say they are coloured and proud of it, like I believe the singer Vicky Sampson said on the same programme on Sunday.
Now, Vicky is my home girl. We grew up together in Hanover Park on the Cape Flats and belonged to political youth organisations in the early 1980s, so she has a consciousness of non-racialism and how important this was to our struggle.
At some point she, like me, called herself “black”. But she would not be the only one who now suddenly seeks solace in being a “coloured”.
Like I said, I have no problem with people identifying themselves as “coloured”, but then they must afford me the right to assert my human identity, my South African identity or my black identity.
I think the resurgence in people identifying themselves as coloureds could be laid at the door of short-sighted politicians who failed to make people who could potentially identify themselves as coloureds feel welcome in the new South Africa.
But it also has to do with economics, where people who identify themselves as coloureds have to fight for a small piece of the economic pie along with Africans.
If you speak to Africans, especially in the Western Cape, they will tell you that coloureds are favoured. If you speak to coloureds in the Western Cape, they will tell you that Africans are being favoured. The truth is probably that neither of the two is being favoured.
I try to deal with the issue of coloured identity in my book and I ask how one identifies a coloured. There are certain markers to identity and, of all the markers that I could think of, it is difficult to find any great commonality among the group roughly called “coloureds”.
I still believe that the only definition of “coloureds” is people who could not be fitted into any of the other apartheid-era definitions.
And isn’t it amazing how our democratic government has just adopted all the apartheid-era terminology? But that is probably the subject of another blog

Ryland Fisher

The problem with coloureds? Hmmm

The Jimmy Manyi debate continues to assert its voice in local press, mostly in the Trevor Manuel style (open letters lambasting Manyi's claims). It's interesting that multiple voices are emerging, from students to politicians, each claiming to identify the cause or problem at hand.

Most recently, Mandela Rhodes scholar Kim Smith inserted her thoughts into this debate, with a post in the ThoughtLeader blog section of the Mail and Guardian, titled: "The problem with coloured people" - which immediately had me raising an eyebrow (there is much to be said about word utilisation).

Smith argues that Manuel is acting as a "coloured" individual in writing to Manyi, yet employs a non-racial stance within the letter (rejecting his coloured-ness). This is seen as a paradox.

In my view, there is a problem with coloured people. The problem perhaps with coloured people is summed up in Minister Trevor Manuel’s letter. On the one hand, he says something to the effect of the idea of “coloured” being a construct of apartheid and that he doesn’t subscribe to it, but on the other hand, and I mean let’s be honest, the reason he’s writing is because he’s coloured! That in itself is a kind of hypocrisy almost, one which translates into a contradiction protruding into the very existence of coloured ethnicity. And though most people are thinking “good on you Trevor! You told him lekker”, the reality is that his letter was a bit of an emotional outburst. How can he call the man “a racist in the mould of Verwoerd”? Coloured people don’t know who they are. Those who say “we are African” or “black” are delusional: coloured men don’t go into the bush to be circumcised. The point is, black people in South Africa have their own culture, separate to the culture of coloured people. And you know what? There is nothing wrong with that.

While I applaud Smith's original aim - to see what was behind the letter and what it was arguing for, what she actually does is essentialise Manuel's position. Smith argues that coloured people's lack of an identity is at the root cause of the "problem" (right), but also that people like Manuel exacerbate this when they employ African/black to describe themselves (wrong).

Why wrong?

Well, one should start by asking, what does Manuel mean by black? One can begin to understand his position when we look at Manuel's broader socio-historical context (which should never be ignored if one is to comment on someone's opinion). Manuel's non-racialism/rather black stance emerges out of the black consciousness vein of thought, a stance often taken by coloured exiles and comrades, where coloured and Indian people are included as "black" - all suffering similar oppression under apartheid, all grouped together under non-white. So when Smith says,

Coloured people don’t know who they are. Those who say “we are African” or “black” are delusional: coloured men don’t go into the bush to be circumcised. The point is, black people in South Africa have their own culture, separate to the culture of coloured people. And you know what? There is nothing wrong with that.

she makes giant deductive leaps (evident in the emotive language: "delusional" is a little strong, I think). Manuel is not employing African-ness vis-a-vis claims to black culture, but rather employing its black consciousness definition.

Seeking a solution, Smith says

But deeper than that, and specifically as coloureds, we need to react in a way that exalts us as a people, a culture, an ethnicity, one that we can be proud of. And when this happens, we will be able to secure our place in South Africa and Africa. And once our place is secure, we will abandon our ailing chick identity and soar above the stereotypes like eagles, not because we told them lekker but because we showed them who we really are!

I would argue, this is exactly what Manuel does in both his letter and his actions - while he did "tell Jimmy lekker", he continues to act (and react) in a manner that uplifts the image of the "coloured man". That, is more important, that is key: lived experience that exposes, contradicts and reveals stereotype for what is is.
But fundamentally, the problem is not with "coloured" people, the problem lies with all of us - especially when, like Smith, we try to stand outside an issue and judge it, rather than revealing our own prejudice, misgivings. There are many ways in which every single person, consciously or unconsciously, contributes to stereotype and essentialisation of a race or culture. It's inescapable, race is written into the tapestry of our national consciousness - and recognising this complicity is key.

Essentially: We are all complicit, we are all "the problem".

Trevor Manuel's open letter to Jimmy Manyi

The best way to silence ignorance (or in this case racism) is through intelligence and articulate response. Trevor Manuel's open letter to Jimmy Manyi - in light of his call for coloured people to be distributed throughout South Africa is possibly the best open letter I have read. Provoking much debate, and high-fives, throughout South Africa, Manual inserts his voice into the "coloured debate" with the equivalent of an intellectual backhand. An absolute gem.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Jimmy,

Let us drop titles for the purpose of a necessary exchange. So let us forget for now that I am a cabinet minister and that you are a director-general equivalent, in the same government.

I want to address you simply as a compatriot South African.

I want to draw to your attention the fact that your statements about “an over-concentration of coloureds” are against the letter and spirit of the South African Constitution, as well as being against the values espoused by the Black Management Forum (BMF) since its inception.

That you were a director-general of the Department of Labour, as well as the president of the BMF at the time when you made these statements is quite a mystery.

It is a mystery because I must assume that you were elected as president of the BMF, without any familiarity with the history and constitution of that organisation; and that you were appointed as director-general of the Department of Labour, without any familiarity with the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa or the legislation administered by the department.

I observe from a Government Communication and Information System (GCIS) press release, that Mr Vusi Mona issues in his own name, that you apologise for the statement because “some people may have taken offence”. This continued negative behaviour merely serves to confirm the values that you hold, or more precisely, lack.

Firstly, why Mr Mona had to issue a statement is beyond comprehension since you distinctly did not utter those racist sentiments as an official of the GCIS.

Secondly, that you lack the moral conviction to publicly apologise says so much about your acute lack of judgement.

Thirdly, that the statement apologises only for the fact that “some people may have taken offence” says to me that you clearly fail to appreciate the extent to which your utterances are both unconstitutional and morally reprehensible.

These “things”, (as the ANC statement says, your utterances reduce people to being mere commodities) in your view, “the coloureds who are over-concentrated in the Western Cape”, are the sons and daughters of those who waged the first anti-colonial battles against the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British when they set foot on our shores.

These “things”, which so irritate you, include many who made huge sacrifices in the struggle against apartheid, at a time when people with views like Jimmy Manyi were conspicuous by their absence from the misery of exile, the battles at the barricades and from apartheid’s jails. By the way, what did YOU do in the war, Jimmy?

I want to put it to you that these statements would make you a racist in the mould of HF Verwoerd. I want to put it to you that you have the same mind that operated under apartheid, never merely satisfied with inflicting the hurt of forced removals and the group areas act, would encamp language groups so that horrible aberrations, such as Soshanguve, were created to accommodate “non-Tswanas” in their own little encampments in greater Mabopane.

Mr Manyi, you may be black, or perhaps you aren’t, because you do not accept that label and would prefer to be “only a Xhosa”. Whatever the label you choose, I want to put it to you that your behaviour is of the worst-order racist.

I refer to you in this way because those of us who found our way into the struggle through the Black Consciousness Movement have always understood the origin of the Black Management Forum, as we have understood and supported the ANC documents that speak of “blacks in general, and Africans, in particular”. Regrettably, in your understanding the term “black” has quite a different meaning. As a consequence of your behaviour, people like me – in the ANC and in government – are being asked to explain what was in the mind of the drafters of the amendments to the Employment Equity Act.

We were present at the point of the debate of the first Employment Equity Bill; we expressed a complete comfort with the assignment of “designated groups” to include “black people” which means “Africans, Coloureds and Indians” because it served as a representation of our constitutionality and as the fruits of our struggle.

When, in your capacity as chairperson of the Employment Equity Commission, you made strange utterances that sought to carve away the basic premise of the Employment Equity Act, we should have been more vigilant.

The just and constitutionally obligated provisions for redress are not and can never be an excuse to perpetuate racism.

Now, in the light of the utterances you made when you were the DG of the Department of Labour, and given the fact that the amendments to the Employment Equity Act were drafted during your tenure, I have a sense that your racism has infiltrated the highest echelons of government.

Count me among those who, in spite of my position, will ensure that parliament acts in the letter and spirit of our constitution when it adopts amendments to the act.

I have never waged any battle from the premise of an epithet that apartheid sought to attach to me but I will do battle against the harm you seek to inflict. When I do so, it is not as a coloured but as a non-racist determined to ensure that our great movement and our constitution are not diluted through the actions of racists like you.

I have been prepared to sacrifice before for the cause of the kind of society articulated in the Freedom Charter. It is not a cause that has ended. I have simply not been called upon to make the same kind of sacrifices since 1990. I must declare my willingness to make sacrifices now in deference to the opening lines of the Freedom Charter that boldly declare that “South Africa belongs to all who live in it”.

I now know who Nelson Mandela was talking about when he said from the dock that he had fought against white domination and that he had fought against black domination.

Jimmy, he was talking about fighting against people like you

Trevor Manuel - Photo Credit: Tracey Adams

Un(fair) Comment?

In the past few weeks, the debate around coloured identity (particularly in relation to its stereotyping) has proven a popular topic in public conversation - sparked by Kuli Robert's article in the Sunday World.

The recent spate of debate around coloured identity has really got me thinking, what is the obscene underside of this all? What are we not seeing? Ostensibly, it all seems pretty obvious: a denial of the fact that “coloured people” make up a heterogeneous group, and should not be subject to the generalisations encompassed in crude stereotypes. So we will (rightfully) make a big noise, and stamp up a fuss, when someone like Kuli Roberts or Jimmy Manyi inserts their voice into these often repeated ideas about coloured society. Why is this necessary? Because on a deeper level, ideas MAKE reality (or more particularly, people’s understandings of reality), and these understandings construct culture: either entrenching or destabilising norms. However, whilst these columns cause uproar, they emerge as a symptom of the real issue: all that lurks under the surface.

The real issue here is the amount of airtime these stereotypes are unquestionably afforded. Just turn on your TV and you will find them within the advertisements we know, love and love to laugh at, in the subtle comments of random people, and (importantly) in daily interactions. We might want to call them “harmless reproductions”.  But, these constant reproductions leave their residue within our minds, and soon that residue builds to form an image – a “face” of colouredness if you will. It might seem “harmless” to reproduce these, but again “ideas make reality”. And when the reality slaps us in the face, in the form of unqualified comments by Kuli Roberts, or anyone else, we speak out – but when do we confront the subtleties of these realities: the daily representations that are hard at work within the minds of people to form that self-same, unquestioned image of “the coloured”?.

So while some may want to call the recent debate a “storm in a teacup”, I have to wonder whether they are ignorant of the subtleties within representations of coloured people, or simply too disinterested in how these ideas continually manufacture a 2-dimensional identity, or just don’t care. Because from where I stand, that tea sure does leave a bitter taste in my mouth.