I was born in Alexandra, a township shaped by struggle, resilience, migration and survival. Alexandra taught me early that poverty, dignity, hardship and hope often live side by side.
It is a place where the realities of South Africa are not debated from a distance — they are lived daily.
I was raised in a family deeply rooted in community leadership and the liberation struggle.
My stepfather, who raised me, instilled in me discipline, responsibility and a deep sense of justice.
The same family lineage produced leaders such as my nephew, Lebogang Maile, a respected Gauteng political leader, whose public service reflects a commitment to governance and accountability.
My cousin, Dan Moyo, was among those who paid the price for
freedom, enduring imprisonment on Robben Island as part of the ANC struggle generation.
That legacy reminds me that South Africa’s freedom was never won in isolation. Many African nations and their people stood with us during apartheid, offering solidarity, shelter and support in our darkest years.
My own story carries another important dimension.
My father came from Zimbabwe. His journey forms part of my identity and my understanding of Southern Africa.
Because of this, I cannot look at the immigration debate only through the lens of borders, policy or politics.
I also see the human reality behind migration — the desperation, survival and hope that often drive people to cross borders.
That is why I approach the planned 30 June march with both conviction and emotional conflict.
Like millions of South Africans, I recognise that illegal immigration has become a serious national issue. Our healthcare, education, policing, housing and employment systems are under immense pressure.
South Africa cannot function without secure borders and proper immigration control.
The government must enforce immigration laws, strengthen border security, fix corruption in Home Affairs and restore public confidence in the rule of law.
On this, I stand firmly with March and March leader Jacinta Ngobese-Zuma and many South Africans calling for decisive action.
Illegal immigration in South
Africa has spiralled beyond acceptable levels.
Ignoring this reality helps no one.
A sovereign nation must know who enters its borders, who resides within them and under what legal framework. Without order, social instability becomes inevitable.
But in confronting the crisis, we must be careful not to lose our humanity. Not all foreign nationals are illegal. Not all migrants are criminals.
Many cross borders fleeing circumstances most of us would never willingly choose — political collapse, civil war, economic devastation, persecution and terror.
Consider Zimbabwe, where decades of economic decline have pushed many to seek survival elsewhere.
Consider Sudan, where war has displaced entire communities.
Consider parts of Nigeria, where Boko Haram has terrorised families and destroyed livelihoods.
For many, migration is not about opportunism — it is about survival.
Recognising this human suffering does not mean endorsing illegal immigration.
These are two separate truths and both must be held at the same time.
South Africa has every right to protect its borders.
But legitimate concern about illegal immigration must never be allowed to mutate into Afrophobia.
That is the danger we now face.
When public anger is no longer directed at policy failure, corruption, porous borders and weak enforcement — but at people simply because they are foreign, speak differently or look different — we move from lawful concern into dangerous prejudice.
Afrophobia poisons society. It destroys Ubuntu. It destroys reason. It destroys solidarity.
Most painful of all, when violence erupts, it is often not the strongest who suffer the most.
It is women. It is children. It is the vulnerable.
In many cases, men cross borders first — seeking employment, fleeing conflict, escaping persecution or running from economic collapse.
But when tension rises in host communities, entire families become trapped in the crossfire. Women become targets of abuse. Children inherit trauma and fear. Innocent people suffer for failures they did not create.
This is where my emotional conflict lies.
I support lawful action against illegal immigration. But I cannot support mob justice, violence, intimidation or collective punishment.
We must never normalise the targeting of all foreign nationals, documented or undocumented because of anger towards state failure.
The problem is bigger than migrants. The deeper crisis is governance.
Corruption at border posts, administrative collapse, delayed permits, fraudulent documentation, weak law enforcement and political indecision have all contributed to this situation.
South Africans and vulnerable migrants are now both paying the price.
If tension continues to escalate, the consequences could reach beyond our streets.
There is also a diplomatic risk South Africa cannot ignore. Countries from which migrants originate might adopt hostile positions towards South Africa if violence escalates. Regional relations within Southern African Development Community could deteriorate.
Trade, investment, diplomacy and political cooperation could suffer.
South Africa’s role as a continental leader depends not only on economic influence but also on moral leadership.
We cannot preach Pan-African unity in boardrooms and African Union summits while tolerating violence in our communities.
This moment requires courage. Courage to confront illegal immigration. Courage to demand accountability from the government. Courage to insist on lawful enforcement.
But also courage to resist hatred.
South Africans deserve secure borders. South Africans deserve safety. South Africans deserve jobs, dignity and protection.
And documented foreign nationals deserve lawful protection and human dignity.
Both can be true.
This is not a choice between national security and compassion. We need both.
We can defend our borders without losing our values.
We can enforce the law without abandoning Ubuntu.
We can protect South Africa without dehumanising fellow Africans.
As we march on 30 June, let us be clear about what we demand.
We demand order. We demand enforcement. We demand accountability.
But we reject violence. We reject hate. We reject Afrophobia.
Even in our frustration, we must remember who we are.
We are a nation born from struggle, sacrifice, reconciliation and shared humanity.
March we must.
But let us march with Ubuntu.
George Dingizulu Moyo is a businessman and ANC activist