Young black women CAs - Be vigilant, be very vigilant; danger is closer than you think (ukufa kusembizeni)

“The problem with educated [married] women, is that when they get these so-called qualifications, they forget that they are wives.” “This CA qualification seems to me like a poison that you went and got, and now it is poisoning you and your marriage.” “My friend asked whether you have always been this opinionated or it’s because you are now a CA.” “I felt that what you said about how you don’t like a Toyota Run X was really snobbish, but anyway, you are now a CA.” “We all have jobs to do, why do you think you can’t attend, is it because you are now a CA?”

Who made these statements? What was the impact?  What has triggered me to revisit these statements once again? Lastly, why am I specifically addressing young black Women CAs?

Before I answer these questions, let me briefly touch on my journey to becoming a CA. As a person who grew up in the former Transkei, which was considered a separate state, I did not find it easy to access bursaries and scholarships. To make matters worse, I was what today would be considered the “missing middle”. Due to this, my journey to becoming a CA was totally self-funded - from the 3rd year of my Accounting Diploma at the former Technikon Natal in 1996, right up to qualification in February of 2006. I started the tough journey by working full-time and studying part-time from as early as 1998.

Who made these statements?

The statements at the outset of this article were made by a number of people. I heard them frequently from some of my close friends, my husband (now ex), his friends, women who were married to or dating his friends, well-meaning black women giving me advice, and ex colleagues.  

These statements were made by black people who had known me for years. They were made by people who looked like me, who should have been celebrating my achievements. People who had watched me struggle and whom we had struggled together. People I had fun with, faced hardships with, and some whom I had shared all aspects of life with. They were made by black men who themselves were CAs and had qualified way before me.

So, what had changed? Nothing! I still had the same personality. I still spoke the same. I drove a Toyota Tazz 1.3 but, I wasn’t enthusiastic about its cousin, the Toyota Run-X. I still had strong views and opinions - and I voiced them. I was still passionate about speaking up and speaking out. I dressed the same. What changed was that after ten arduous years I had become a CA!

The circle of people I hung out with was by no means narrow. This group consisted of engineers, a variety of highly qualified IT specialists, financial services experts, consultants and other highly educated black people. It was a circle of people that hailed from maybe six of the nine South African provinces.

What was the impact?

I pride myself on being a very observant and analytical person. So, I observed that while I was exhausted, trying hard to fight back and withstand these relentless attacks, the black men who were also CAs were not subjected to the same attacks. While I was policed and silenced, and made to be ashamed of my designation, the black male CAs were invited to family and cultural events to be keynote speakers - their designation celebrated. While I was expected to prepare, serve food and be behind the scenes at the same events. These very events would not start if the ‘honourable’ keynote speakers and leaders had not arrived. While I had regressed, second guessing myself, struggling to merely speak up and voice opinions in meetings, my black male counterparts, were becoming more confident, taking up more leadership positions and starting businesses. It was very clear to me that these black people were validating and affirming their achievements, with the same vigour they were invalidating, discounting and attacking mine. The damage caused by their noise was so severe that it took me some time, once I had diagnosed it, to reverse and to attain the same levels of confidence, namely, owning my voice, my opinions and effective public speaking.

What has triggered me to revisit these statements once again?

In the past month or so, there have been two incidents where young black women who happened to be CAs, made personal statements on Twitter. They were expressing personal views. These views were not derogatory in any way. It was not inflammatory statements, no, not by a long short. It was the kind of content that would make me chuckle or roll my eyes and move on. After all these are young people voicing their opinions. Most critical of all, it had nothing to do with the designation they so proudly displayed on their profiles. And rightly so, because they had worked so hard to obtain it.

In both these cases, the fact that they were CAs became the centre of their detractors’ focus. This, then triggered me to firstly follow both young women and to pen this article. I want to tell the two young women that this is not a new phenomenon. More critical to highlight, are the consequences of such attacks on young black women. Lastly, I was prompted to write the article before this phenomenon is misdiagnosed as “ills of social media” and to try to correctly diagnose it as the “ills of black society as they relate to black women.”

Why am I specifically addressing young black Women CAs?

I have three reasons why I am addressing young black women, especially CAs.

First, to highlight my experience and my lessons from it. After years and years of vigilance, it was not other races that almost broke my spirit and destroyed my hard-earned career. It was people who looked like me. I was caught unawares and unprepared. As CAs we are trained to be thought leaders that influence and inform strategies, legislation, policy, reporting and auditing standards, governance standards, and that we should offer input on a number of innovative ways of doing things. We are trained to give opinions that lead to successful and sustainable organisations. This is why, among other things, our profession exists. In order to do that successfully though, I could not marinade and stew myself in the midst of people who were oppressive, non-celebrating and silencing. Imagine, trying to present and asserting your opinions to committees of listed companies, CEOs of large institutions, leaders of big organisations while dealing with this confusing dynamic.

Second, since August 2016, my jobs required that I organise panel discussions, public discourse on technical and other profession issues and run technical committees. I became concerned by the lack of black women who made themselves available for these events. I intentionally sought out young black women I knew in the profession and who were experts, to come join the committees, to participate in panel discussions and, to become keynote experts. Almost all of them refused, some cancelled just before the events. What was the problem? They were afraid to say something wrong and the backlash that would ensue. They were afraid of making a fool of themselves and the possible fallout from the audience. They did not believe that such platforms were going to be welcoming to them and their opinions, even opinions supported by their technical expertise.

Third, in the past four years or so, I have intentionally made time to meet with various young people of my profession, across all races and genders.  During the conversations I have held, most common amongst young black women, was the concern to be seen as difficult, rocking the boat or being troublemakers when voicing their opinions or asking relevant difficult questions. I also noted that in most conferences, training events etc. young black women in my profession, rarely ask questions or voice their opinions in public.

Are these experiences and observations, surprising though? How can we expect to have black women thought leaders, when people who look like them are the first to silence them?  Where do we think they will get the confidence and the agency to speak up, when their communities are the first to attack them for asserting their opinions and rights? Are we surprised that young black women fall prey to all sorts of bullies they meet in social, academic and corporate institutions? They become soft targets, because by the time they get out there in the world so to speak, us, people who look like them have already destroyed their confidence and taken away their agency to speak up.

Are we surprised that in twenty-six years, we still can count the number of black women holding board positions and leading big organisations? How do we think this is possible, when their own people attack, berate and put them down for being confident and speaking up and speaking out, something that is very critical for success in the corporate world?

So, young black women CAs, I am writing this article to you, hoping that you will avoid the pitfalls I fell into that almost destroyed my spirit and my career; a career that I had not only worked hard for, but personally financed. Some of your most dangerous enemies are closer than you think, some of them look like you. As rapper Tupac once said in his song ‘Only God can judge’: “And they say it’s the white man I should fear, but it’s my own kind doing all the killing here.” So before looking for enemies out there, start with your own circles, your own communities. It might not be the expected enemy (other races) doing all the killing of our confidence, it might be your own kind doing the killing.

Young women, be vigilant, be very vigilant. Make sure that you make a proper diagnosis because, when it comes to your career progression, danger is closer than you think. As we Xhosas say: “Ukufa kusembizeni.”