These words aren’t mine, but those of an equally frustrated South African.
As we approached national Freedom Day (27 April) the question continued to bother me.
I felt that my freedom was incomplete – short-changed, if you will.
Why are we celebrating while our young democracy is slipping through the cracks?
It took a very wise man to help me realise that the very concept of freedom that I had was flawed. Consequently, so were my expectations.
I was born in 1989, at the very conclusion of the apartheid regime.
As a result I have not experienced direct/personal oppression at the hands of the government of that regime.
And I cannot divorce my experiences, or lack thereof, from my perceptions.
My grandmother had to carry her ID in her purse because it could be demanded by the police at any time of day or night.
So to her the liberty of walking anywhere without the feat of being harassed to prove her identity is a freedom she is deeply grateful for.
But my picture of freedom looks very different to hers.
I am a socialist at heart and I want free quality education, a crackdown on institutional racism, an end to monopoly in business, and effectively functioning parastatals at the very least.
Now I understand how saying that my freedom is not worth celebrating is a slap in the face to all those who made sacrifices to get me where I am today.
Political freedom, at the very least, affords us the voice to speak to other freedoms.
Because maybe economic freedom was not a pressing issue 50 years ago, like it is now.
And perhaps 50 years from now my grandchildren will be fighting for cyber freedom and our struggles will be belittled too.
Much has been done; much more still needs to be done.
But I am grateful to those who fought and won the battles that I no longer have to fight.
I am grateful that I can use their victories as momentum to fight new ones – one step at a time.
Siyabonga!
