Who are you? Identity formation may be deeply personal, but it’s also a collective phenomenon. Consider South Africa’s own ongoing identity crisis. The country is pushed and pulled in every direction; our own anxieties seem to manifest, sometimes, in national headlines. We grapple with inequality. We try to reckon with a history of incredible cruelty. We reach back 26 years in search of the same hope that painted 1994 as a golden year. It hurts us. But no matter how uncomfortable the process, it also shapes us. So it is for young people’s collective identity crisis. They are hurt, and shaped, and enraged, and calmed and, ultimately, they become themselves – whatever that self may be.
In this third issue of the Human Factor we explore young people’s own stories – in their own words and through their own art. We delve into the secrets of their rapidly developing, ever-evolving brains. And we consider what might happen if, finally, we see young people as potent allies who are fully part of a society that’s as complex, changeable and profoundly beautiful as they all are.
ORaTIle PaPI KOnOPI
‘Bua Le Ênê’
“This work to me reminds me that not everything is as we always think it is. Life and people are complicated and it is a constant negotiation of the individual in relation to their situations, their actions and their desires. This work asks us to consider these everyday conversations and experiences and recognise them, acknowledge their subtle or overt impact on our lives.”
Ultimately, there are only two ways to improve the world – through technology and through behaviour change. This publication focuses on the latter.
What drives people and what dispirits them?
What ignites new passion, new ideas, new commitment in people, and what stands in their way?
Far too often people are viewed as the ‘problem’ in development; through the lens of the Human Factor, we see them as development’s greatest asset.
ho are you? It’s a question that has challenged humans since our earliest recorded history; a question that you’ve probably been asked or asked of yourself a hundred times before. While aspects of our identity may settle over time, adolescence is a stage of extreme and dynamic change, when exhausting internal and external forces affect our thinking, behaviour and emotions as we attempt to forge a meaningful sense of self.
Identity formation may be deeply personal, but it’s also a collective phenomenon. Consider South Africa’s own ongoing identity crisis. The country is pushed and pulled in every direction; our own anxieties seem to manifest, sometimes, in national headlines. We grapple with inequality. We try to reckon with a history of incredible cruelty. We reach back 26 years in search of the same hope that painted 1994 as a golden year. It hurts us. But no matter how uncomfortable the process, it also shapes us.
So it is for young people’s collective identity crisis. They are hurt, and shaped, and enraged, and calmed and, ultimately, they become themselves – whatever that self may be. All of this happens simultaneously: there are no neat lines here, and no easy answers. Those of us who’ve survived the fires of youth lean too heavily on uncomplicated stories about those who are still in the forge. Young people in South Africa are too often portrayed as angry, volatile victims of the country’s poor systems and economic decline. We insist they have nothing to offer. But their own daily journey through identity formation is, in reality, a powerful, untapped resource that could bring us through the crisis and out the other side.
In this third issue of the Human Factor we explore young people’s own stories – in their own words and through their own art. We delve into the secrets of their rapidly developing, ever-evolving brains. And we consider what might happen if, finally, we see young people as potent allies who are fully part of a society that’s as complex, changeable and profoundly beautiful as they all are.
FACTS
By the time we reach adolescence, our brains have done most of their growing. Next, they undergo sophisticated upgrades that equip us for adult life. Our neural networks are constantly firing, pushing us towards greater empathy; smoothing over our wilder instincts and beefing up the cognition that’s key to navigating life.
None of this is visible to the naked eye. But it’s as critical as the growth we can see. The brain pushes young people to achieve certain psychological tasks. To do its best work, the brain – and the person it’s building - needs layers of support: good physical nutrition, plenty of cognitive development and solid emotional ties to the world around them.
In the following pages we examine what society does to facilitate or inhibit the critical brain work that nudges young people through the ‘storm and stress’ of adolescence and ontothe next stage of their lives.
EXPRESSION
Young people in South Africa are transitioning from adolescence to adulthood in particularly trying circumstances. The country itself remains in social transition, struggling to mould its own identity as a nation. Many young people have been let down, their potential left under-developed because of the interplay of a large collection of social problems, arising from inequality and poverty.
One particularly debilitating issue is the highly unequal education system, which drastically underserves about 80% of learners and has been instrumental in keeping young people trapped in place as they struggle towards equality in the most unequal society in the world. Post-school, it is young people who’ve been hardest hit by South Africa’s extraordinarily high levels of unemployment. The small group who have enjoyed relative privilege in the new system - primarily by being exposed to better educational opportunities, secured through huge sacrifice by their families - have been left with a sense of indebtedness to their families and communities.
EXPRESSION
In this section, we let young people’s art speak for themselves.
When viewing these works, ask yourself:
What does this art say about the issues young people are struggling with?
What must it be like to express yourself and your identity in the context of liberating globalisation, while at the same time you’re being reined in by the traditions of older generations?
Where is your locus of control in a society rife with failing systems that has been designed to be unfair?
How do you achieve success in the shadow of indebtedness?
What happens when you feel you have nowhere to go, nothing to achieve – just a life lived “in the meantime”, waiting for change that never comes?
These artworks and the stories they tell remind us that young people are resisting; they are pushing back. Young people are working through their experiences, creating meaning that, over time, will shape identity – and ultimately turn into movements that will shape society.
Lady Skollie
‘Papsak Propoganda II’
In her series ‘Good and Evil’, Lady Skollie consistently probes the
social violence of the dop system, in which people were paid in alcohol in what she terms ‘papsak propaganda’; the arrival of the Dutch East India Company in 1652; and the land question. It is a study of the reality of people the apartheid government classified as coloured and an engagement with our collective heritage.
She explains: “It’s dark. It’s depressing, and I think that I have a gift in terms of showing dark, heavy, ugly, grotesque, horrible, horrendous things, in a way that draws people in, in terms of the colours and the techniques… and then when they get too close, that shock of: ‘Oh my gosh, it’s actually ugly, or actually it’s scary or terrifying, or what it represents makes me feel uncomfortable’, so I think it’s all a trick. [It’s like those] flowers that get pollinated by flies, because they smell like rotting meat, but it’s pretty when you see them from far – that’s what my work is to me.”
“There’s a lot of unresolved trauma in South Africa, and I think
in terms of colouredness, it’s probably the most, and that is very
evident in how we perceive violence, how we perceive power,
how we perceive anything really,” she says.1
Puleng Mongale
‘A girl with many lives’
“I created these two pieces shortly after I was retrenched. I worked in an advertising agency as a community manager and I was the only black girl in the team. During my time at this job, my entire existence was always seen as some sort of rebellion. I always had a lot of explaining to do about... everything! That’s when I realised what white fragility was about, where [my] white colleagues always felt threatened by me just existing and how their fears always resulted in my oppression.”
HAND-ME-DOWNS
In January,
birthdays are celebrated
with a bucket of KFC, a simple cake and Coca-Cola.
Schools open in January, so do not even consider throwing a party;
if you were allowed to invite your friends from next door,
you were lucky.
But even with January syndrome,
we made sure to not attend the first day of school
in our November uniform or December braids,
even if they were still in good condition.
Everything had to be brand new: hair relaxed or shaved,
Vaseline so thick it could withstand any and all weather.
We were shiny and hopeful.
For what?
We did not know.
From our hairline to our toenails, we were new.
TsokU Maela
‘Appropriate II’
“The beauty of art and the process of making art is the continuous learning for you as the conduit it presents itself through. ‘Appropriate II’, much like the entire series, serves as a personal reminder to be proudly African – whenever and wherever – with no need for external validation, but an almost ancestral appreciation for the rich history that we, as the new generation, continue to document, rewrite and express through our very existence, which serves as a form of resistance to stereotypical ideals. Our cultures and heritage exist beyond the complimentary public holiday like Heritage Day, and our histories are not only significant or embroidered with colonialism during Black History month. While it is true that you can challenge ideas, it is also true that you cannot kill them. The same thing can be said of our energy as African youth. Now and forever.“
Dada Khanyisa
‘Squad Goals (internet friends are not your real friends)’
“When I think about the work, I remember that it was dedicated to reminding myself
and my peers not to lean too much on people we encounter online. Yes, most of us have overlapping ideologies, but that does not necessarily make us friends. It’s one of those tricky chats that help one figure out who is in their corner. The work also touches on the common aspiration of having good looking people in your squad - a completely normal yet compromising aspiration.”
Johannesburg
Johannesburg, let my people glow
All the dream-chasers
The skyscrapers that raise us
The moon that brings out the best in us
And stars that pave the way for us
The highways, the one-way-streets
The nightclubs, the township beats
Every child who dares to be:
Opens books to bring new worlds to reach
Black Joy
We were spanked for each other’s sins,
spanked in syllables and by the word of God.
Before dark meant home time.
My grandmother’s mattress
knew each of my
siblings,
cousins,
and the neighbour’s children’s
morning breath
by name.
A single mattress spread on the floor was enough for all of us.
EXPERIENCE
Young people’s stories are at the heart of this edition of the Human Factor, in their own words – full of their hurt, anger, pain and their potential. It doesn’t always make for comfortable reading, but the complexity of young people’s lives, of the wounds they have to heal, and of the hopes they hold, are far too often simplified when filtered through an adult lens.
As Lovelyn Nwadeyi points out, in South Africa we like to tell the story of the ‘born frees’, the first generation of South Africans who were “born free” after the country’s first democratic election in 1994. “Sometimes it falls on a generation to be great. You can be that great generation. Let your greatness blossom,” Nelson Mandela told young people. This was meant to be the generation of hope, free from our painful historical baggage, or so the story goes. But the ‘born frees’ are now young adults and they beg to differ about being born “free”.
Here we share four more stories to pull together the different strings of this issue, helping you to weave a tapestry of tales about young people in South Africa – from their own perspective, experience and insight. Not a neat, satisfying, linear cause-and-effect story, but one that is complicated, messy, interesting and inspiring.
tried to fit in, as all teenagers do,” Luthando Mzilikazi told us when we interviewed her for our ‘Youth Create Change’ resources a few years ago. She was 25 years old then. “My mom worked two jobs, so I had a lot of time on my own. I did a lot of things that I probably shouldn’t have done. I got sucked into the BlesserBlessee environment in Grade 10. That’s the year I fell pregnant. I was the first to fall pregnant in my street, and after me there were nine other girls."
“You don’t choose challenges, challenges choose you.”
Luthando Siyamthanda Mzilikazi
Business Development Manager at Allan Gray in her late 20s
started at Belgravia High, which was a nice school for me because I met different people there,” says Lance van Eyslend, from Bonteheuwel. “I got sports that you wouldn’t normally get at your average Bonteheuwel school, like tennis, hockey and golf. That was really fun for me. My downfall was that I started selling drugs when I was 15 at my school. For some reason I thought it was cool to sell drugs there because I saw my friends doing it and it seemed like a good way to make some money. That’s how I got expelled."
“We’re in Bonteheuwel. It’s very corrupt and there’s a lot of gangsterism. Children get indoctrinated by the wrong people. They throw their lives away for nothing and get themselves killed.
I don’t know why they do it, though.
I wouldn’t do it. I think it’s stupid. I try to avoid it, because there’s nothing in it for me. I would just be putting myself on the playing field to get killed. I don’t want to do that. I want to do more with my life than just become a gangster and stand on corners and play dice for money.”
Lance van Eysland, 18 years old. He dropped out of school at the end of Grade 9.
didn’t do well in matric. Actually, I failed Grade 12,” shares Siyabonga Mbaba. “But I didn’t give up on life. I decided to do something that would help me to grow as an individual and help my family at the same time. I looked for a job, but I couldn’t get one because I didn’t qualify. After volunteering at an NGO for a bit, I was at home for three months doing nothing – just being depressed, thinking about life, hating myself and the way I grew up."
really useful comment someone made to me early on was that I had an instinct for public health, and that I could see things differently, which was something I had never realised. That was really, really helpful – I guess I was a bit intimidated by the number of letters behind people’s names in terms of degrees and specialisations and here I was, fresh out of medical school. "
Have you given some thought to some of the topics that have been explored through the art and stories in this issue? Express yourself – send images of your art, videos, songs, poetry, essays and we will choose a selection of the most poignant work to add to this page. Everyone who contributes will get a printed copy of this issue (while we have stock). Send your work to communications@dgmt.co.za.
Also visit the Human Factor 3 Instagram account where you stand a chance to win a state of the art 13-inch MacBook Air laptop if you let your friends know about the Human Factor.
The words and art of young people gave us hope during the difficult year of 2020. We hope that it can do the same for you in 2021.
The views expressed in these artworks, poems and songs are those of the artists and is not necessarily shared by DGMT.
M Indigo
Thabang wamo Afrika
Tebza Mree West umama wam
This website by DGMT is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License
