Quoted by a buddy on my previous column, having described black economic empowerment as ”the insatiable gratification of the gilded holy grail”, my conversant commented, ”You write very nicely, but are you saying you’re for or against BEE?”
Usually I send inquiring readers back to the text and implore them to figure it out for themselves, but this reader would not let me off the hook. Do I, he asked, seeking to classify my socio-political stance, fall under the ”conservative” or ”liberal” school of thought? It matters to him. Many readers classify the writer before putting their trust in him or her, while others read purely for the enjoyment of rhythmic sentence structure and fresh insights.
Writing in the South African landscape can be a tricky thing, with our highly politicised minds automatically arming our cerebral antennae. The ideological groupings have diversified and created so many subcultures and alternative thought forms that even the most resourced political, economic and religious groups would have a hard time keeping up with all of them. They all purport to be seekers and advocates of ”a deeper perspective”, ”the real thing”, ”the truth”, ”the third, fourth or fifth way”, ”a return to the rule of the righteous”, ”freedom” and so on.
Inviting my buddy to classify me, I stated that not only am I for BEE, but am for those who are good at it to do it and those who are bad at it to leave it alone, extending this logic to every area of professional life — areas that I believe need to be as heavily encouraged, if not more so, than BEE. I would like to see the activity of black economic participation diversified into all areas, as that is what balanced societies are about. What does that make me?
It is often believed that writer’s represent some constituency, no matter how small or big. I tend to agree with this assumption as creative energy flows in many directions at once, forming congruent thought-communities as directly and indirectly attested to by cultural philosophers such as Francis Fukuyama. Creativity is harnessed collectively, regardless of who got through the door first. Ideas can therefore not be owned by anyone, as any decent intellectual property lawyer will attest to, but they can and must be processed by someone.
Writers are processors. When a reader likes a writer, they generally like where the writer is coming from and what they represent. The converse is also true. Clues into the writer’s mind are to be found not only in what they say but, more potently, in how they say it — the rhythmic space and connection between the words and lines. The way a piece sings. Is the writer rock’n’roll, pop, soul, R&B, funk, drum’n’bass or grunge?
A writing style in itself accompanies a headspace. One can place individuals fairly easily by the language commonly used in their circle.
We are all an expression of a certain culture, persuasion, past experience, future intention, socialisation and so on, as is widely documented by academics and the like. We therefore also write for different reasons. Some write to make the world a better place, to become famous, to assuage a troubled spirit, to create new spaces, or all the above and more. Think of Tina Brown and Ruth Bhengu. When they write, my very being reverberates.
Contemporary creative writers are particularly good at engaging topics concerning everyday life in the home, office, kindergarten and social scene. No area is too sacred (compared with the political analyst that responds mostly to situations in public life). I put my own publishing endeavors in the category of ”contemporary social commentary”. As such, all I seek is to allow the reader space to entertain their own thought processes and feel more empowered to apply their own personal high-definition lens to BEE and any other matter. I don’t care to dictate and prefer playing with ideas and have the reader join me on the journey and take away with them whatever they wish to. I really don’t mind. As Nina Simone once said during a rare live performance, ”You can clap if you want, or not clap if you don’t want. I don’t care” — proceeding to croon that southern trees bear a strange fruit. They do, don’t they? Happy new year, everyone!