The lines we draw in the sand are entrenched and often coated with the dark history of our past – the blood drips deep into those lines and the crevices remind us what that darkness felt like and how we struggle to exist in what is now a free South Africa.

The lines of debate are even more polarised now after #SONA2015, and the ensuing debate, which labelled President Zuma as a “broken man” and as a “thug”. The lines of debate have shrunk in on us, with people now requiring even more courage to have their own opinion.

Identity underlies our discourse; it is the basis from which we struggle to articulate a vision for a different South Africa and the ‘chasms that divide us’ still even after Mr Mandela’s speech of 10 May 1994, where he implored us all to build and bridge those divides. We have failed to take up that call – we have failed to confront our own past.

Apartheid and white privilege was an institutionalised reality; the darkness of that reality is that it pervaded every fibre and being of South Africa. The pain and suffering still lingers in the hearts and minds of many South Africans.

The pain and suffering is perceived and re-lived on a daily basis and we are confronted time and time again by the monuments, buildings, roads, and sometimes people who were crafted from that darkness. Identity is something that cannot be wished away. Equally, we cannot wish away white privilege or Apartheid.

Many want us to move on, and believe that all we are must be is defined by the last twenty one years of democracy. This is not a political or socio-economic issue or an issue simply about racism, but this is about people denying our humanity.

There is disquiet and unease that permeates our social interactions and many would feel that it coats the very social contract of our society. In the past few weeks, I have been struck by that denial with the spate of attacks fuelled by racism across our country and particularly in my home of Cape Town.

These issues are supposed to be uncomfortable, awkward and emotional – they are rooted in those deep chasms that we cannot seem to transcend.

Recently, I saw Orpheus in Africa, a David Kramer production, and up until that point I had heard fantastic reviews and seen much high praise in the review sections.

I raise the production not as an illustration of prejudice or racism but rather about how difficult issues around identity are. Sometimes we cannot transcend these issues in one leap.

The Fugard Theatre is playing host to the production and unconsciously I noticed that I was one of a handful of black patrons that evening. This is not an unusual thing in Cape Town, I suppose, as I have often had this type of encounter; many others have shared their own (sometimes painful) experiences.

I was surprised that within five minutes of the opening I was deeply uncomfortable and troubled by what I was seeing, hearing and feeling. This was rooted in the fact that I felt the history of the production was not accurate, fair and that the portrayal of certain characters was based on caricatures (which obviously has a place in theatre productions).

We are often told as black South Africans that we need to claim our space and ignore the fact that we are sometimes the only black patrons. The fact that we are told to claim a space is specifically an indication that the space does not identify with us – and that in itself is a problem!

I had to carefully navigate my own emotions and thoughts around this feeling and had to remind myself it was not about Orpheus but rather, those chasms that exist in our society.

We can juxtapose these feelings against issues of racism and identity, and this reminded me that these issues are not easy to transcend – but they do require that we are at least trying to do something. At the moment South Africans are failing to meaningfully engage with issues of identity. That failure is even more sickening when I consider the amount of energy that will go into campaigns to save the rhino or any other such ‘noble’ cause.

The difficulty is often a historical one. Orpheus makes constant mention of South Africa, even though that country did not come into existence until 1910. The portrayal of the Cape Malay people is even more troubling. The production does not acknowledge the history, the depth of that culture, the richness and diversity of the Cape Malay people, but rather portrays them in the typical ‘Cape Minstrel’ form, and I suppose that is sufficient – after all, they just make a cameo appearance in this tale of Mr McAdoo.

This is not about Orpheus or our history, but rather about how often we seek to simplify the issues around identity into a simple caption. We try to discount the richness and diversity of the multitude that is South Africa, emphasising the one-size-fits-all approach, which again denies our humanity!

Today, we are still defined and assessed by the sound of our elocution, our diction, the depth of our language use, our appearance. In a crude way, the pencil-test imposed by the Apartheid regime is being meted out unknowingly on all of us. We have been asked to forgive, to acknowledge the contributions of former Apartheid leaders, to forget, to move on, but we cannot when the pain still endures.

We see the pain that so many feel because of their identity and the broken society that we have failed to fix. South Africa is not unique when it comes to issues of identity, but we are uniquely placed, as we now have an opportunity to carve out something different.

Our political leaders are quite busy with the aftermath of #SONA2015, with name calling and various other #SOPAs, but we can’t expect them to be leading the charge.

We may feel locked out when we walk into a restaurant, theatre or club that seems foreign to us, or in that moment when we see how the Oscars can snub a movie like Selma with such ease, or when the history of our very identity is not told accurately.

We are locked out, but there is something we can do about it – we can begin to define our own identity. Be proud of who you are, don’t conform, engage; but mostly just be your most authentic self and confront those who wish to define who you are.

As much as racism, prejudice, slavery and suffering are in our blood, so too are resistance and triumph. Remember the words from the song ‘Glory’ (which received the only Oscar awarded to Selma): “They say, ‘Stay down’ and we stand up”. We must stand up once more. DM