Skoen for Back-to-School: Fashion, Classism, and Colonial Residue in South African Schools
- Amahle Gebane
- Jan 20
- 3 min read
As January rushes past, South African students brace themselves for a new academic year, while their peers in the Northern Hemisphere ease into their spring semester. Back-to-school fever in South Africa is hotter than a summer braai—everyone’s feeling the heat! Yet, beneath the excitement lies a web of fashion, culture, and colonial influence that shapes the season in profound ways.
Freshly pressed Woolworths shirts, impeccably polished Buccaneer shoes (I am a Greencross gworl down but Buccaneer is a STAPLE), dry-cleaned blazers, and tunics are all hallmarks of the South African back-to-school tradition. However, like many local customs, these practices are laden with rules rooted in colonial and elitist ideals, reflecting a broader narrative of conformity and respectability.
A Back-To-School Hair Affair: Navigating South Africa's Cultural and Colonial Tensions
For primary and high school students, the new year brings a frenzy of preparation, with hairstyles taking center stage. Last year’s Sho Madjozi braids? Out of the question. Chlorine-faded purple braids from the December holiday? Absolutely not. Black South African students are acutely aware of the unspoken rule: a 'polished' appearance is non-negotiable -- polished according to archaic standards of course.
The demand for hairstylists skyrockets during this season, with appointments booked weeks in advance. For some, affordability dictates creativity, as makeshift solutions like dishwashing liquid become tools for removing festive-season nails. Yet, the transformation is more than aesthetic; it’s a balancing act between cultural expression and institutional conformity. Schools frequently impose restrictions on intricate African hairstyles, perpetuating a legacy of racism and colonial policing.
The Burden of Eurocentric Respectability and Modesty Politics
The politics of back-to-school fashion extend to uniforms, particularly for girls. Short tunics or skirts are standard for some, but race often determines what is deemed “too short.” Black girls, whose bodies are disproportionately adultified and hypersexualized, face heightened scrutiny. Protective measures, like layering tights or petticoats under uniforms, are seen as safeguards against judgment. An 11 year old child wearing a petticoat is ridiculous. Yet, these measures underscore the burden of respectability placed on young Black girls.
Interestingly, it is often Black teachers and peers who enforce these standards, framing their interventions as acts of care. This reflects a broader societal tension: the belief that assimilation and adherence to Eurocentric norms provide a protective shield. However, as history has shown, this perceived shield is often a fragile illusion.
Colonial Residue in Modern Schooling
The influence of colonialism on South Africa’s education system is deeply entrenched. From hairstyle regulations to uniform standards, Black students are expected to align with Western ideals of neatness and cleanliness. While the desire to look presentable is cultural, the interpretation of what constitutes “neat” or “clean” is steeped in colonial values.
This phenomenon is not unique to South Africa. Across the continent, colonial legacies continue to shape educational policies. Corporal punishment persists in some regions, vernacular languages are sidelined, and traditional hairstyles are policed. The collective resignation—“Re tla reng?”—highlights the pervasive nature of these issues.
Fashion as a Reflection of Structural Inequities
The back-to-school season, while exciting, is fraught with challenges for Black South African students. It is a time of new beginnings, but also a period of navigating cultural expectations, economic realities, and the enduring impact of colonialism. For Black girls, in particular, the politics of fashion intersect with broader societal pressures, revealing the complex ways in which respectability and assimilation shape their experiences.
The conversations around Greencross vs Toughies, navigating which stationery brands and pencil cases to buy so that your peers do not assume that you are poor, hiding that your dad browses the school's swop shop occasionally, lying that you have an iPhone 19 pro max at home but your mom does not allow you to bring it home. South African school fashion reeks of classism and elitism. It is unfortunate that as kids this is what was on our minds.
As South Africa continues to grapple with its colonial past, it is essential to question the systems that perpetuate these inequities. Only then can the back-to-school season become a celebration of individuality and culture, free from the weight of colonial residue.
This reminded me of a time in high school when my classmate was harshly asked to go "comb" her afro because she didn't look "neat". I was really shattered because what do you mean ?
It’s interesting that this is spread all over the country. Even the poorest of South African communities have these standards and expectations. The anxiety of losing your “Play mom” if your shirts or V-necks were not from jet. If they were from Woolworths every elder girl wanted you to be their pretend child and showered you with many gifts. If yours were from Pep, you are clearly socially suicidal.