Impressions

Overlooking Simonstown

Working at Black Sash, an organization which for much of its existence had a membership base of all women, has inevitably pushed me to consider gender issues. Recently, Will and I have been interviewing original members of the Sash about their experiences with the group, and I have found their persistence and courage to be very inspiring. These discussions have provided me with an additional lens through which to view South Africa and the world, as I contemplate with awe the gravity of their actions during apartheid. So, it was through this process of thinking that I come to reflect on an incident from last weekend.

On Saturday, the group took a trip out to Simonstown to visit Peter Story and his wife, Elizabeth. Peter was a minister who was very outspoken against apartheid while it was occurring, and believes strongly in bringing politics to the pulpit. We met in Peter’s church, where he sat at the front of the room, facing the rest of us who sat in the pews. While he answered questions from the students and told us about his life, his wife sat in the back, a spectator like the rest of us. Occasionally, though, she would chime in to correct a statement her husband had made, or to add in a couple of sentences of commentary on events Peter forgot to mention. But, quickly, she would be cut off, returning to her silence. After the talk was completed, we all went out to lunch together at a restaurant on the beach. I sat near Elizabeth, and as I talked to her, I realized that she, too, was an active figure during apartheid. She had stories of her own to share, but it seemed to me that she was not given the opportunity to do so because the focus was often placed upon her husband. While her husband was undoubtedly a paramount figure during the apartheid era, I began to feel increasingly disconcerted by the fact that Elizabeth’s story was seemingly cast aside, taking a back seat to Peter’s. I’m not sure whether that was the fault of our group, of her husband, or of societal norms. But, it left me feeling slightly uncomfortable, confused, and unsettled. I felt that she should have been merited her own conversation, rather than being reduced to interjecting randomly during her husband’s story.

Was this something that happened to her often? And to other women? I certainly don’t think that one would typically see a wife being the focal point of conversation, with her husband sitting in the background. And that troubled me, again prompting me to consider how gender roles still plague society.