Glenda Daniels
BODY LANGUAGE
I’m not a fan of coats of arms because to me they’re symbols of pride – for men at war. But I was curious about the new coat of arms, which took a long time coming. The motto in Khoisan, !KE E: /XARRA //KE – loosely translated to mean Unity in Diversity – seems apposite.
Even though it’s easy to be cynical about coats of arms, they are nevertheless important. They appear on all official letterheads, on aircraft, coins, banknotes, in fact almost everywhere we assert our nationhood.
And there can be no doubt that the new coat of arms is better than the old one, with the antiquated oxwagon, orange tree, lions passant gardant glaring down at us.
The new coat of arms, in colour, texture, design and symbolic values of rebirth, growth, protection, peace, potential, strength, wisdom, eternity and moderation is great.
But it is striking and disturbing that the two human figures in the middle are in attitude and ”giss” (general identification, shape and size) unmistakably male – two male bonding figures.
This, for me, reflects either subliminal patriarchy (and that’s being euphemistic, of course), or an exciting celebration of male gayness. Initially, for just a spilt second I thought, ”Hmm, that’s progressive: two androgynous figures, perhaps this is far-sighted thinking about an idealistic future where men and women recognise each other’s humanity first before objects of sexual desire.” And President Thabo Mbeki said that the design is meant to evoke the past, present and the unfolding future. Not bad going then, an interesting future ahead of us, I thought. But upon closer inspection, no such luck, they’re definitely two men in a warlike pride stance.
If the two figures are two gay men bonding, great. But then what about gay women and heterosexual women, who together would make up 51% of the population? And then, of course, let’s not forget there are also straight men to consider.
I concede that alternate representations of our society present difficulties. If you had two gay women instead of two men, then heterosexuals might well feel excluded. If you had a man and a woman, you’d be accused of being heterosexist. Even worse, if you had a man, a woman and two children (one girl and one boy), it would look like a Jehovah’s Witness pamphlet or a cornflakes ad celebrating the wholesome nuclear family.
Then there’s another problem about having human representations. Apparently, with coats of arms, who appears on the left and on the right is significant. One side is less important than the other (but no, not in the ideological sense).
In terms of race, I like the fact that two Khoisan people were depicted. In Europe too, coats of arms more often than not go way back into history and often come up with Latin mottos. I’m glad that there isn’t some corny image of a black and white person holding hands in the true spirit of reconciliation. That would have been just too over the top.
But then what do you do about portraying diversity and unity? One gay, one white, one black, one young, one old, one vertically challenged, one mentally challenged, or all these rolled into one? A hideous, ridiculous and painful task.
The area that disturbs and concerns me more, however, is the gender issue. It begs some tricky questions. How do you represent women? There are no precedents in coats of arms that I know of, but this of course doesn’t mean we can’t set some.
With men you have the slightly bulgy arms and legs, and of course the chest puffed up with pride, probably to show that some battle has been won!
With women do you tack on some blobs for breasts or present women in traditional pregnant glory or the latest as a multitasker? If we look at how society depicts womanhood, we might decide to turn to women’s magazines and this would be an utter disaster. They’re generally full of unnaturally thin stick-insect-like models – images that most women find impossible to achieve, and shouldn’t want to aspire to, in my view.
In any case, the magazines lie. Women don’t really look like that – the wrinkles, lovely laughter lines, cellulite, stretchmarks, naturally shapely thighs and curvey hips are meticulously and ruthlessly airbrushed out of existence, so that flawless skinned and skinny lollypop bodies (like sitcom character Ally McBeal’s: big head and stick body) can be depicted. So forget about answers from women’s magazines, you won’t find truth and reality.
It is, yes, a problem to come up with the ”right” image, and our coat of arms has attempted to add a human touch, which is normally lacking in such a national symbol. But it depicts an idealised vision of maleness without reflecting the nation’s diversity, and in this respect it falls short of its own motto. No women. It might not have been intentional or even malicious. It was probably a mere oversight. And that’s telling enough, isn’t it?
But I don’t think I’ll take it up with the Constitutional Court on the basis of discrimination against women. After all, it’s a coat of arms, and originally that means it’s about depicting warlike pride and nationalism. And men are interested in and participants to war. Shame on them.
Still, it’s supposed to be a national symbol, the encapsulation of a nation’s pride. And it rankles that women aren’t celebrated with the same triumphalism as men. Maybe in the next millennium, when a real feminist revolution happens?