“Once Upon a Time” is set during apartheid, a system of racial segregation and discrimination that was the law in South Africa from 1948 until the early 1990s. The story shows how white South Africans benefit from and perpetuate white supremacy—even those like the (presumably white) narrator who are aware of the profound injustice of apartheid but nonetheless enjoy a better life than black South Africans. Gordimer focuses in particular on homeownership (the narrator, as well as the suburban husband and wife about whom she tells a story, own homes in segregated neighborhoods) to call attention to how property ownership—which was limited to white people starting in 1959—exacerbated inequality in apartheid South Africa. To Gordimer, segregated suburbs like the one the couple inhabit are an embodiment of colonialism, an attempt to consolidate white wealth through property ownership and to physically separate white South Africans from the black suffering on which their wealth is built. By showing how personal bigotry and structural segregation combine to perpetuate black suffering and white luxury, Gordimer condemns the racism at the heart of South African society.
The story’s most explicit racism comes from the white suburban family who are terrified of black South Africans and indifferent to their suffering. The couple worries frequently that the riots outside of the suburb—in an area where “people of another colour [are] quartered”—will bleed into their own neighborhood. The husband tries to make his wife feel better by assuring her that “these people” are not allowed into the suburb and that there are “police and soldiers and tear gas and guns to keep them away.” In all of this discussion, the couple shows a callous disregard for the suffering of those they’re keeping out, many of whom are jobless and surrounded by violence in their neighborhoods. Gordimer even notes that police are shooting schoolchildren in black parts of town. This contrast between the suffering of black neighborhoods and the luxurious lives of the white couple emphasizes the cruelty of the couple’s efforts to keep others out. Furthermore, Gordimer lampoons the couple’s inability to see that their fear of black South Africans is racist: on the gate outside the couple’s house hangs a warning sign featuring the silhouette of a masked robber whose skin color isn’t visible. This last detail, Gordimer writes ironically, “proved that the property owner was no racist”—but it’s obvious that the sign and the gate are aimed at black people alone. This highlights the white couple’s refusal to see the obvious truth that their actions and indifference towards black suffering are harmful and racist.
In addition to showing the white couple’s bigotry, Gordimer emphasizes the disastrous legacy of colonialism, demonstrating how structural racism is at the heart of apartheid. The story’s clearest evocation of colonialism comes in the narrator’s explanation of the mine under her house. Noting that indigenous black South Africans (she names the Chopi and Tsonga peoples) work the mines, the narrator says that these “migrant miners […] might [be] down there, under me in the earth […] or men might now be interred there in the most profound of tombs.” By invoking the perilous labor of indigenous miners, the narrator is calling the reader’s attention to the structural racism of South African society, in which black laborers do dangerous work for paltry wages to enrich white people, who own the country’s profitable industries. In this way, the narrator is implying that the source of white wealth in South Africa is the exploitation of black labor. The story’s focus on white homeownership (via the suburban couple and the narrator owning homes) further illuminates this structural racism. The narrator’s house is literally built on top of a mine, which metaphorically shows how the luxurious lives of white homeowners in South Africa are built on a foundation of black suffering and exploitation. However, when poor black South Africans come to the white suburban neighborhood begging for work or food and sleeping on the streets, the couple chooses to build higher walls, thereby doubling down on their exploitative lives while ignoring the suffering of black people from which they have benefited. This perpetuates the cruelty and inequality of colonialism, effectively punishing black people for their poverty, which white people caused in the first place.
To show just how far-reaching apartheid racism is, Gordimer depicts even the suburban couple’s black housekeeper perpetuating racist stereotypes and fearing other black people. Housemaids are only allowed into the suburbs as employees of white families, and it’s implied that these workers have higher status than the poorer black people who are rioting and unemployed. Thus, it is not surprising that over time, the couple’s “trusted housemaid” mimics the colonial mindset of the white family and develops a fear of the people outside of the suburb. After hearing of another housemaid being tied up and put into a cupboard during a burglary, the family’s housemaid insists that the couple install more security features like burglar bars and a new alarm. Then, when those “who [are] not trusted housemaids and gardeners [hang] about the suburb,” the couple’s housemaid dissuades the wife from bringing them food. This shows how racist, colonial laws placed people of color who live and work in between black and white spheres, encouraging them to sympathize with wealthy white citizens. However, it’s also possible that the housekeeper hasn’t so much internalized racism as she’s just aware that living in an unjust society breeds violence, and that in toeing the line between the black and white South African communities, she is directly in the line of fire.
Apartheid, Racism, and Property ThemeTracker
Apartheid, Racism, and Property Quotes in Once Upon a Time
I have no burglar bars, no gun under the pillow, but I have the same fears as people who do take these precautions, and my windowpanes are thin as rime, could shatter like a wineglass. A woman was murdered (how do they put it) in broad daylight in a house two blocks away, last year, and the fierce dogs who guarded an old widower and his collection of antique clocks were strangled before he was knifed by a casual labourer he had dismissed without pay.
The misbeats of my heart tailed off like the last muffled flourishes on one of the wooden xylophones made by the Chopi and Tsonga migrant miners who might have been down there, under me in the earth at that moment. The stope where the fall was could have been disused, dripping water from its ruptured veins; or men might now be interred there in the most profound of tombs.
In a house, in a suburb, in a city, there were a man and his wife who loved each other very much and were living happily ever after. They had a little boy, and they loved him very much. They had a cat and a dog that the little boy loved very much. They had a car and a caravan trailer for holidays, and a swimming pool which was fenced so that the little boy and his playmates would not fall in and drown. They had a housemaid who was absolutely trustworthy and an itinerant gardener who was highly recommended by the neighbours.
They were […] subscribed to the local Neighbourhood Watch, which supplied them with a plaque for their gates lettered YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED over the silhouette of a would-be intruder. He was masked; it could not be said if he was black or white, and therefore proved the property owner was no racist.
[…] [The housemaid] implored her employers to have burglar bars attached to the doors and windows of the house, and an alarm system installed. The wife said, She is right, let us take heed of her advice. So from every window and door in the house where they were living happily ever after they now saw the trees and sky through bars, and when the little boy’s pet cat tried to climb in by the fanlight to keep him company in his little bed at night, as it customarily had done, it set off the alarm keening through the house.
The wife could never see anyone go hungry. She sent the trusted housemaid out with bread and tea, but the trusted housemaid said these were loafers and tsotsis, who would come and tie her up and shut her in a cupboard. The husband said, She’s right. Take heed of her advice. You only encourage them with your bread and tea. They are looking for their chance…
When the man and wife and little boy took the pet dog for its walk round the neighbourhood streets they no longer paused to admire this show of roses or that perfect lawn; these were hidden behind an array of different varieties of security fences, walls and devices. […] While the little boy and the pet dog raced ahead, the husband and wife found themselves comparing the possible effectiveness of each style against its appearance […].
[…] the alarm set up wailing against the screams while the bleeding mass of the little boy was hacked out of the security coil with saws, wire-cutters, choppers, and they carried it—the man, the wife, the hysterical trusted housemaid and the weeping gardener—into the house.