I attend a supposedly double-medium school. It was the school closest to my house and the only previously model-C school in my town. The school was split about 50-50, regarding the race of the learners, but that’s about where it stops. Classes were taught predominantly in Afrikaans, all announcements are made in Afrikaans, and no one had a clue about the English version of our school song, which was sung no more than twice a year.
In my entire high school career, there have been a total of two members of staff who were people of colour, both of whom were men. Year in and year out, places on the student councils and first teams were reserved for white students, with one or two spots for students of colour. I can go on and on about the institutionalised racism still prevalent three years after I’ve left, but the one thing that haunts me the most, is being called “coloured” like it was my name. Continue reading