Raymond Suttner, Mail & Guardian
The main biographies of Nelson Mandela do not consider him
as a gendered subject. Yet in these times of widespread violence perpetrated by
men, we may learn from Mandela's model of masculinity the type of man he
represented.
He changed a lot over the years as his conditions altered;
he changed as a human being. We are not dealing with a person whose identity as
a man can be reduced to one single, enduring quality.
Men have always dominated the ANC at a formal political
level. The discourse of the organisation has reflected masculine idioms.
Mandela was part of the rebellious youth league tradition, which attacked the
then ANC leadership while embracing the same masculinist imagery, one of
overcoming the "emasculation" of African men and "recovering
manhood".
Mandela came to embody a heroic, martial tradition in the
underground and military activities of the ANC, an image he shared later with
younger people such as Chris Hani. This fighting image is foreshadowed in the
notion of Mandela being a boxer, a role with wide township appeal, in some ways
akin to the admiration of tsotsis. And Mandela was a flashy dresser, like those
tso-tsis and the musicians of the 1950s.
At one of his most heroic moments, as he faced the
possibility of the death sentence, Mandela directly related the willingness to
die to his manhood: "If I must die, let me declare for all to know that I
will meet my fate like a man."
We can't take the use of "man" here only
literally. In the context of apartheid subjugation, which made "boys"
of men, such a reference to manhood is also a statement of personhood, of
someone with dignity and agency otherwise denied by the white ruler who saw
Africans as children in relation to "adult" whites.
Mandela acted out what has been called a "heroic
masculine project". This refers to men leaving home to embark on
courageous deeds such as war and conquest, leaving their womenfolk behind to
care for the children and undertake domestic tasks.
At the same time, however, his then wife, Nomzamo Winnie
Mandela - along with many other women - refused to conform to the conventional
image of the wife waving her husband goodbye. Whatever the ambivalences and
controversy attached to her activities, she carved out an independent political
identity both underground and publicly.
In relation to his wife and his family, Mandela believed he
had not been there to fulfil a conventional protective role because of his
incarceration from the early 1960s. He told his biographer, Anthony Sampson,
that "it is not a nice feeling for a man to see his family struggling,
without security, without the dignity of the head of the family around …"
This gels with what scholar John Iliffe claims are
near-universal concepts of honour and manliness, demanding "capacity to
sustain and defend a household, to maintain personal autonomy, to avenge insult
or violence".
But Mandela's notion of manhood changed over time. In the
early days, he evoked the image of toughness to deal with an enemy that would
not respond to reason. When it became possible to secure peace through talking,
Mandela adapted. After his release his image was one of warmth and
inclusiveness, embracing those who feared majority rule and even his former
enemies.
When Mandela danced along with others at political rallies,
they were toyi-toying but his shuffle-dance carried a very gentle, affable
meaning. The toyi-toyi derives from war times and zones, probably from Zimbabwe
African People's Union and learned by Umkhonto weSizwe soldiers in the camps,
or possibly even from Algeria. It is a dance that was initially performed
mainly by men, by soldiers, and its words are aggressive, directed at the
apartheid regime, with repeated reference to hitting and killing.
Mandela refashioned the imagery of such a dance, especially
during his presidency. It evoked someone with whom you could feel safe and
affirmed. The imagery was nonmilitaristic.
Compare this with the way the dance and the songs of the
freedom struggle were deployed by Jacob Zuma, notably in the context of his
rape trial. He revived the song uMshini wam (Bring me my machine gun), which is
obviously both militaristic and evocative of phallic imagery. In contrast to
Mandela's toyi-toyi, this was part of a discourse that created a sense of
danger and projected a figure to be feared. One of the undertones was that
women, especially those who supported the rape complainant, did not have reason
to feel safe.
Mandela's qualities as a man need to be studied carefully
for our society's benefit. In the first place, he demonstrated a willingness to
learn and to change over time. His was a continuously evolving masculinity.
There was nothing macho about the mature Mandela; we need to reflect on this
and impress on the youth that there is no value in trying to instil fear in
others, and that courage is compatible with tenderness.
