This is the man I admire most in South Africa right now.
I know his name, but I won’t tell it to you. All you need to know is that he is a 50-something white Afrikaner from the West Rand, an engineer who drives a nice car and has a good job. He is straight and divorced with two grown sons. Nobody in his community knows that he was there at SlutWalk Johannesburg this morning. He wears a disguise so that it will stay that way.
It doesn’t matter that a tall, middle-aged man with great calves and exposed butt cheeks was anonymous, because to the people that mattered, his presence made all the difference.
Here he is with Rochelle Pimental, who first spoke at SlutWalk Johannesburg last year. She was gang raped on a beach in Durban and doing this, she told us, has helped free her. She would never have dreamed of wearing clothes like this before. “This man is amazing,” she said.
He brought flat shoes to change into when the heels got too sore, but lent his pair to one of the speakers. Here he is, striding valiantly up Jan Smuts Avenue in the heat of a late spring morning.
He does this because, he says, if a man can do it, then women will feel better about going out there and taking chances. He is a nudist, so the drag is easy for him, but he does this so others will feel more comfortable.
And yes, there were others in drag. Boyfriends wearing skirts and angel wings, walking hand in hands with girlfriends, the pale guy with the boep, the two young gay men who wore masking tape over their mouths and posed for pictures. For many, it was a chance to express themselves and have fun with their friends.
But he was not there with his friends. It’s entirely possible that they would have disowned him if they knew about it. Why is this man so different from others? Why is he so willing to take chances?
He is a nudist, he explained, which makes wearing drag easier. He painted his own toenails in the car after arriving at Zoo Lake, and he did a much better job than I ever could.
But I am still astounded that there are South Africans like this. That there is a man whose background should dictate that he adhere to every classist, racist, homophobic stereotype — and yet it hasn’t. Just the opposite.
He is not a hero — risking blisters should be placed in the context of all the dangers we face every day — and yet he gives me hope. Because if he can go out there and risk his sense of self and his standing in the community out of what was essentially empathy and compassion, then so can others. We can all take chances. We can all make gestures that are small, but important, and make a difference to others.
Yes, he’s dressed in drag. He’s wearing fishnet stockings and heels and his toenails are painted pink. And, right now, he is the most remarkable man I know.
Thank you sir.
Author
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