Belonging Beyond Paperwork: Rethinking South African Identity
By: Mukelani Cele
As South Africa gets closer to Heritage Month, a period of reflection on the country's varied cultures, history, and identities, it is crucial to consider the following question: who is considered South African? This question touches on themes of identity, identification, and belonging and is not just legal but also profoundly social. For many, citizenship is simple: it is determined by naturalisation, birth, or ancestry. However, the answer is far more complicated for others, especially children of immigrants. Esperance Mwepu, a senior tutor for Politics 1S and a master's student in the Department of Politics, Philosophy, and International Studies at Rhodes University, is one academic highlighting this problem. Mwepu was born and reared in a Xhosa-dominated community in the Eastern Cape. She attended local schools, was proficient in isiXhosa, and was surrounded by South African customs. Her background mirrors the everyday experiences of many second-generation immigrants, who are well assimilated into South African culture yet frequently struggle with issues of legitimacy and identity.
The "in-between" position that second-generation migrant children born in South Africa to immigrant parents occupy is the focus of her research. They did not cross borders themselves, unlike their parents. They frequently have no idea of another place to call home because they were born and reared here. However, they bear the costs of migration in ways that are seldom discussed in the mainstream. Because of changing government laws, many people face delays or denials when trying to obtain documents, leaving them uncertain. Her study centers on this conflict between lived reality and constitutional aspirations. The Constitution of South Africa is unambiguous: Section 3 of the 1996 Constitution creates a common South African citizenship, ensuring that all citizens have equal rights and advantages. One can obtain citizenship by naturalisation, descent, or birth. Anyone born in South Africa to citizens or permanent residents should, in theory, be eligible. However, policy changes and bureaucratic delays often leave second-generation migrants without documents for years, limiting their access to social services, work, and education.
The psychological impact of this exclusion is profound. For many second‑generation migrants, being denied recognition in the only country they know creates feelings of shame, insecurity, and alienation. They grow up internalising the idea that they must constantly prove their legitimacy, which erodes confidence and fosters anxiety. The lack of documentation can make them feel invisible and excluded from opportunities their peers take for granted. This sense of being “stuck” in limbo often leads to frustration and hopelessness, as they cannot plan with certainty. At the same time, the generational disconnect between parents and children adds another layer of strain. While children identify fully as South African, parents may cling to memories of their own country, which can cause conflict when society rejects that identification. As a result, many people experience a psychological burden that impacts their sense of self-worth, sense of belonging, and mental health, making them feel alienated in their own homes.
Considering the past is crucial to understanding the present. In South Africa's past, colonial and apartheid institutions influenced the issue of belonging. Communities that had long travelled freely across areas for commerce, marriage, or survival were divided by boundaries during colonial control. Rather than being based on lived identity, citizenship was linked to colonial power. Apartheid later instituted racial categories that dictated who could vote, who could belong, and who could get property or education. In the past, communal ties mattered more for belonging than documentation. People used languages, cultural customs, and clan names to identify themselves. Long before colonial borders established strict distinctions, movement between areas was normal and spontaneous. Strict citizenship and paperwork requirements are relatively recent developments shaped by colonial rule and later apartheid bureaucracy. By ensuring equality, South Africa's democratic Constitution aims to reverse such legacies today. However, the persistence of administrative obstacles and discriminatory attitudes demonstrates how profoundly the past continues to influence the present.
Mwepu's work is relevant as Heritage Month encourages South Africans to consider what identity and belonging imply. Her study pushes society to move beyond restrictive conceptions of citizenship based only on documentation or lineage. Rather than policing diversity, she advocates for acknowledging belonging as a lived, changing reality. She highlights the psychological toll of constantly having to justify one's validity, the generational divide between parents and children, and the cultural loss that results from severing links to ancestral languages and customs by elevating the voices of second-generation migrants. Her art challenges South Africans to consider whether the country's idea of citizenship embodies the equality promised by the constitution.
Esperance Mwepu reflects the hardship and optimism of a generation looking for a true feeling of home, not simply acknowledgment on paper, in her words and scholarship. Her thesis is more than just a scholarly contribution; it is an appeal to South Africa to uphold its constitutional principles and to respect the many realities of everyone who lives in this nation, both during and after Heritage Month.
Article Edited by: Munei Zoe Mbedzi
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