Whose identity is it anyway?

I have had enough!!!!! Whose identity is it anyway? I have been told since I was young that I’m a model c and that my culture is doomed and no one can save me from this atrocity. I was labelled and given the status of the “other” before I could ‘stop’. I was not even given a chance to mould my personality and build a character that I could truly see as me and only me. People would ask me whether I could click or say my whole clan name. I would wander, in such a young age, whether it was any of their business.
I was enjoying myself on Friday in Oldes until some strange character asked me to chat with him. I thought this was rude since I was enjoying myself with my friend but this guy insisted. I gave him my time and listened to his drunken soul. He poured out his heart to me and told me that I was his love of his life and that I was “marriage material”. I found this pretty amusing but rejected the guy and told him I was not interested. He immediately became infuriated with me and told me that I was not a “real Xhosa but a fake whitey”. I thought this was ridiculous because this guy was not all that drunk but tipsy and I felt that he used the alcohol to attack me and voice out what he has been thinking about for a long time. I didn’t understand why he was labeling me and constructing my identity so that to justify his rejection. He did not even digest the fact that I was speaking in Xhosa with him and not evening creating a twang with my few English words. Furthermore, since when do Xhosa women want drunkards as their husbands or lovers? He really missed the point.

Who I am is not the exterior nor is my identity there to impress anyone. I leave my brother with a couple off lines from Ringo’s song titled “Ndim Lo”:
I’m who I am because I’m African. I’m proud of who I am. My hair and my nails don’t tell who I am. I love myself and I’m proud to be myself. (Sounds much better in Xhosa)


Pumelela 'Push' Nqelenga