
I started following Mama Heller, or let me say, Comrade Heller, last year. What drew me to her profile was the title of her book. Another reason was that she boldly wears her political apparel without fear. Her engagements on X challenge my own perspectives and worldviews.
This is what the role of activism must entail: challenging views from an informed stance and creating room for learning. Activism is philosophical because it enables us to build, reshape and reimagine life-changing solutions.
When I came across her book, White Privilege, Black Pain: The Power of Race in Democratic South Africa, I was both challenged and curious. Multiple questions came to mind. Some were answered, while others left me wondering. Since she gifted me with her book, everything has changed because I have known no peace — only discomfort and rage.
The concept of white privilege is common in South Africa. It is not a newfound concept; it is systemic, a cousin birthed by apartheid. My first encounter with white privilege was as a child attending a predominantly Afrikaans primary school, a “Laerskool”.
At the time, there were only a handful of Black children at the school. What I vividly remember to this day is that we were separated from the Afrikaans children, the “white children”. Black and white children were taught in different classrooms. The reasoning behind this was that the “white children” wanted to be taught in their mother tongue, which was Afrikaans.
However, what still lives rent-free in my mind is that the white children appeared happier in their classrooms. They had more fun and participated in extra activities that Black children did not. The Black children would be in class and, on some occasions, see the white children having lessons outside.
Whenever I questioned this, the explanation was always linked to our “bad behaviour” in the Black classrooms. The differences were always visible. We were not the same, and we were never treated equally. I made this discovery when I was only eleven years old.
There were many more painful lived experiences in which white teachers directly reminded me of the colour of my skin. Later, I became very rebellious and fought back without fear. I was raised not to be disrespectful, but racism and white privilege are not shy. The white teachers were unaware that I was “politically woke” and had been raised to know my history. Hence, I was disliked by many at the “Laerskool”, and it still does not bother me.
What I wish to interrogate is this: if democracy introduced social cohesion and reconciliation, why do the inequality gaps persist in South Africa?
The South African Government acknowledged in its 2020 Social Cohesion and Nation Building compact that society remained divided and that the effects of apartheid continued to shape people’s lives.
Social cohesion was intended to build more inclusive societies by giving everyone a chance to access fundamental rights and opportunities. One of the most critical aspects of social cohesion is bringing society together and fostering a sense of belonging.
If social cohesion is a national objective, what must change for the objective to become a lived reality for those who remain excluded? In truth, we were never truly integrated after the initial exclusions. What happened instead was an announcement that we were welcome to share some of our space with others. But we could not have it all. That is the social cohesion that took place.
The Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Act of 1995 established a framework intended to help South Africans confront past human rights violations and advance reconciliation. Yet we are expected to believe that replacing historical racial divisions with a lack of accountability is enough to restore the land repossessed, the lives lost and the cultural identities compromised.
We call it reconciliation, and we are expected to believe that we have been reconciled. In truth, we are bleeding from wounds that have never healed.
Therefore, we need to have honest conversations about how social cohesion and reconciliation have become myths in the South African context.
The concept of a rainbow is that all seven colours are distinct, yet they come together to appear as one. The seven colours remain separate within their own bands. This is how I understand the construct of the Rainbow Nation: different races remain separated but are bound together within one nation.
South Africa has maintained this separation and coined it Rainbow Nation as a form of false hope after democracy. Even the rainbow itself displays seven different colours positioned in individual bands.
Where is this diversity or integration?
It has never truly existed. We have never resembled a nation united. We are a divided nation, and we continue to exist within the very separation reflected in the construction of the rainbow.
I call for South Africa to dissolve this rainbow and build a nation in which everyone is included.
Nation-building in South Africa is anchored in the ongoing process of fostering national unity in a deeply divided society. It is guided by the establishment of a national identity and the promotion of civic values that uphold democracy, respect for human rights, fairness and equality.
The role of nation-building is to build a democracy rooted in fairness and equality. However, can we build on a foundation that has already been laid? That foundation rooted in a history of colonial dispossession dating back to 1652, followed by segregation and apartheid, which shaped unequal distribution of land and resources in South Africa (Parliament of South Africa, The Historical Roots of Contemporary Spatial Inequalities.).
Are we actually building the nation? If so, should we not have built our own foundation instead of building on one that was already laid?
We need to rebuild South Africa.
Mama Kim, a white settler herself, wrote this book as a roadmap for addressing the persistent inequalities in South Africa. She draws on her personal experience as a beneficiary of white privilege and affirms its existence in our country. Her experience challenges us to think deeply about the design of our democracy.
It makes us question whether our democracy has ever truly accommodated Black people, or whether it has buried their realities beneath concepts designed to make them feel included.
The book forces us to think critically about our nation and its people. It shares not only thoughts but also lived experiences and daily realities. One of the lessons it offers is that white privilege is a generational cycle, and breaking it begins with the conversations held within white households.
These conversations are uncomfortable, but they need to happen. If white privilege did not exist, how do we explain incidents such as the 2008 Reitz residence scandal or 2022 Stellenbosch white student urinating on a Black student’s belongings? These incidents force us to confront uncomfortable questions about racism, dignity and accountability in post-apartheid South Africa.
Mama Kim’s book deserves a place in the South African education curriculum.
Thank you for writing this book and sharing your lived experiences as a white settler. May this book free the minds of many who are searching for answers about their place in South Africa.
Thank you for this amazing gift.
Khuphuka, Mama Kim Heller.
Makwande.
Book 20 of 2026
Powerful read. It will leave you with rage.
Phiwe Mncwabe is a Communications & Public Engagement Writer, Pan-African storyteller, and Founder of Botlhale Hub Afrika. She is also a fellow of Fray College’s Newsroom Leadership Programme. Her work explores governance, leadership, public policy, and African affairs through research-informed storytelling that encourages thoughtful public dialogue.
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