Reflecting on my recent visit to South Africa, I’m struck by a profound question: do you truly believe in our right to freedom, both as individuals and as societies? The history of South Africa is well-known—a long struggle against apartheid, fighting for equality and dignity for all. Yet, nearly three decades after the official end of apartheid in 1994, a troubling reality persists. While the external systems of oppression have changed, internal struggles remain, often with new oppressors emerging from within.
This observation resonates deeply with my own experiences growing up in Algeria. At the age of 12, my world was turned upside down by civil unrest. One harrowing summer left scars that persisted well into my forties. My sister and I, sent on errands by our grandmother, navigated through tear gas and bullets—an experience that, while demonstrating our resilience, also embedded deep-seated trauma.
For years, I carried this trauma silently, not wanting to burden my parents with guilt. But the body remembers what the mind tries to forget. In my twenties, a car’s backfire in London would send me diving for cover. Years later, in an American outdoor store, the sight of guns triggered a panic attack, transporting me back to those terrifying moments in Algeria.
These experiences, though uninvited, have shaped me profoundly. They’ve instilled a heightened sensitivity that serves as both a gift and a vulnerability. This sensitivity has deepened my compassion and awareness of others’ struggles, but it has also left me exposed at times to those who might take advantage of my empathy.
The parallels between my personal journey and the collective experience of South Africans are striking. Just as my body carried the imprint of past traumas, many South Africans seem to be living in a beautiful land while internally still grappling with the legacy of apartheid. The physical chains may be gone, but the psychological ones often remain.
This reflection is not shared for sympathy, but as a call to action. We must reclaim our voices from the places where they’ve been silenced or suppressed. True liberation requires more than just changing external systems—it demands internal work to free ourselves from the shackles of past conflicts and divisions.
We owe it to ourselves and future generations to keep our inner oppressors in check. This means acknowledging our traumas, working through them, and inviting our inner sage and healer to take a more prominent role in our lives. It’s about breaking the cycles of violence and oppression, not just in society but within our own psyches.
The journey towards genuine freedom is both personal and collective. It requires us to support one another, to listen to the stories of those who have suffered, and to work together towards healing. Only by addressing both the external and internal manifestations of oppression can we hope to create a world where true freedom is not just a possibility, but a reality for all.
As we face the challenges of our time, let us remember that the most powerful revolutions often begin within. By liberating ourselves from the mental and emotional legacies of past conflicts, we can create space for new narratives of peace, understanding, and shared humanity. This is the path forward—not just for South Africa or Algeria, but for all of us seeking to build a more just and compassionate world.