By Sitha Maliwa:
When 49 Afrikaners left South Africa seeking refugee status in the United States, their departure set off waves of outrage, disbelief, and debate. Some accused them of cowardice, others mocked them for playing the victim. But the truth is, this wasn’t just about 49 people packing up and leaving. It struck a deeper nerve in South African society, a nerve that reveals something uncomfortable about both those who left and those who stayed behind.
On the surface, the move seems absurd. Afrikaners – a group that once sat atop the racial hierarchy in apartheid South Africa – claiming refugee status in the United States? Refugee status is reserved for those fleeing war, persecution, or systemic violence. What exactly are these 49 running from?
Their supporters claim they are escaping “anti-white racism,” economic exclusion, and a growing sense of alienation. In reality, what they are fleeing is the loss of dominance. They are not victims of oppression, but of history catching up. The discomfort they feel comes not from being targeted, but from no longer being prioritised.
This isn’t to say that all is well for Afrikaners in South Africa. Yes, there are white South Africans who face poverty. Yes, crime affects everyone, regardless of race. And yes, affirmative action policies can create tension. But let’s be clear: these are not conditions of targeted persecution. These are challenges of a nation still finding its footing after centuries of engineered inequality.
What’s most troubling is the way these 49 chose to frame their departure – not as a personal migration, but as an escape from oppression. That framing is not only inaccurate, it’s dangerous. It plays into global right-wing narratives about “white genocide” in South Africa – a thoroughly debunked myth that refuses to die because it’s politically convenient for some overseas.
By applying for refugee status, these individuals insult the millions of real refugees across the globe who are fleeing bombs, political torture, and genocide. Their move is not about survival; it’s about self-image, about being unable to accept that the country has changed and no longer bends to their will.
But now let’s turn the lens inward, because while the 49 deserve criticism, so too does the reaction from many of us who remained.
The anger, memes, and bitter commentary on social media and other news platforms that followed their exit tell a different story; one about Black South African insecurity, and our lingering need to be validated by those who once held power. We don’t just want Afrikaners to stay; we want them to acknowledge our leadership, to embrace the new South Africa, to say: “We trust you now.”
When they leave instead, we feel rejected, and that rejection triggers pain far deeper than the act itself. Why? Because we are still healing. The legacy of apartheid didn’t end in 1994. Its ghosts still shape our economy, our neighbourhoods, our workplaces, our psychology. The idea that some would rather leave than be led by a Black government – that still stings.
But here’s the truth: we shouldn’t care that much. We shouldn’t base our sense of national progress on whether a small group of Afrikaners stays or leaves. South Africa does not rise or fall with their approval. When we respond to their departure with outrage or sadness, we give them more power than they deserve.
Their leaving is not a betrayal. It’s an act of disengagement. And that’s okay. Not everyone will want to participate in a nation where power is shared and transformation is ongoing. That’s their right. But it’s our responsibility to keep building without clinging to those who want out.
We must stop measuring our maturity by how well we are accepted by those who once ruled us. A truly liberated mind does not beg for inclusion. It creates its own centre of gravity.
Here’s the deeper point: we are still defining ourselves in relation to whiteness. We are still seeking validation from those we no longer need. The dream of the rainbow nation was never meant to depend on Afrikaner participation. It was meant to be inclusive, but never dependent.
The moment we stop caring about whether they stay or go, we become truly free. The moment we say, “We’ll be okay without you,” we begin to lead not just in politics, but in spirit.
And here’s the irony: for all their talk of persecution, Afrikaners still have privileges many Black South Africans can only dream of. Access to quality education, land ownership, capital, global networks, and a strong cultural identity – all intact. What they’ve lost is automatic authority. What they’re mourning is the end of special treatment. Equality can feel like a fall from grace when you’ve always been on top.
So let them go. Let them build their fantasy of safety and control in another country. But let’s not pretend their departure is a crisis. It isn’t. It’s an opportunity to reflect on our own strength, our insecurities, and the nation we’re still becoming.
What’s important now is that we don’t obsess over those who walk away. What matters is who stays, who commits, and who builds. South Africa’s story is still being written – and we don’t need 49 people to validate its greatness.
Let them leave in peace. But let us stay and rise – with clarity, without bitterness, and with the full knowledge that the future belongs to those who believe in it. –@NewsSA_Online
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