PEER GROUPS, PEER RELATIONS AND GENDER CONSTRUCTIONS

Informal Peer Groups

The school’s free periods and lunch breaks provided my fieldwork with interesting opportunities to observe and learn about the patterns of social relations and friendships among the teenage learners. At face value, the simple and intimate relationships formed among learners were typical of most mixed-sex schools. However, as my expressed interest of understanding learners’ identities became as important as understanding the meanings they attach to gender and sexuality, learners became excited about educating me about the descriptive characters and categorisation of their identities – individually and in groups.

Table 2: Informal Peer Groups

Group Name Group Characteristics

Iziqengqe/Nerds ‘A’ students

Oqonda Strict and focused learners

Olova Streetwise boys

amaPhara Boys and girls who are using drugs (dagga or whoonga)

V-dots The virgins

Izinja/Dogs Tough boys

Ibhotela or cheese boy Soft, clean, cool or mama’s boys

Niggas Boys who adopt hip-hop style and dress code

Omasgebengu or Amarobha or Izigroovana

Party girls

Jollers Party boys

Izisebenzi Those into a gangster lifestyle

Ozamula Poor or ever-hungry learners who survive on hand-outs

Izingamla Rich learners

Abazalwane Religious groupings

Table 2 (above) presents the informal peer groups I identified and learned about during my fieldwork. Community members have composed these group categories over time. They aree not exclusive to the research participants. They form part of the broader social identities in the township. My presentation of these groups here is not aimed at the in-depth descriptions of each group, but at an analytic presentation of the gender relations within and among them throughout the discussions in this chapter. Thus, they serve as a reference to

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many sections of my discussion in this chapter. It is also important to note that these groups were not fixed or totally exclusive to their members or the research site. Some of the membership or identities of the group extended beyond the school walls to the broader township community. Their boundaries were permeable inside and outside the school context.

From my early days in the field, the clearest markers that signified the peer-group membership and status were gender and sexuality. Although the groups mirrored the complex mixture of academic, township culture and socio-structural dimensions, they predominantly subscribed to gendered subject positions. The peer-group interactions in and outside the classrooms were an important site for the definition of femininities and masculinities (Connell, 2008).

Let us look at how being a member of ozamula, for instance, was not a neutrally described position – but was a gendered position. In terms of the young people’s description of ozamula, they are boys and girls whose binding characteristics are poverty and in living on handouts from other learners or teachers. However, this was not the case; being ozamula was a gendered experience. Not every poor girl or poor boy was called ozamula – but expressions of particular femininities or masculinities made one fit this group of young people. For example, for girls, the subjective visible sign of being a member of ozamula was unrestricted diet or eating any handout that came their way. Thus, poor girls who are selective or mindful of what they eat, were not described as ozamula. Ozamula girls were positioned within a discourse of girls that were unattractive to boys; a discourse embedded within a dominant heterosexual culture that positions the female body as a heterosexual object. This is no way suggests that poverty or academic aspirations were insignificant in the formation of ozamula’s group identity, but an overarching insight is that their identity was constructed, reconstructed, and acted out within a gender order.

Other gendered markers that signified the peer groups, were power and status. Boys-only groups were perceived as powerful and superior to girls-only groups. In fact, there was a belief that groups like olova (streetwise boys) were recognised and possessed a higher status compared to groups like omasgebengu (party girls) inside and outside the school. Being ulova was perceived as mandatory for boys, in order to survive the township. These beliefs were

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embedded in the following statements by the focus groups’ participants, when we were discussing how boys and girls live and survive the township:

“If you are ulova, you are known and respected. And if you are not, the township is not for you. People take advantage of you.”

“At school, if you don’t submit your work on time and the teachers know or see that you are ulova, they think twice before punishing you. But, if you are umasgebengu, they punish you more because they know that you have been parting. They punish you so you can stop parting”.

“Olova rule – inside and outside the school.”

It is important to note that the peer groups or the boys’ powerful position and status, were not static and solid. Boys and girls were “sometimes together or sometimes apart” in their peer groups through their positions as ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ (Thorne, 1993). In addition, girls’ groups like iziqengqe (A students) who were perceived to be intelligent, and girls that were known to be pretty or who came from economically privileged families, were respected. Wearing a fresh, full school uniform, carrying a well-balanced lunch or money to buy a good lunch, the ability to pay for school requirements and school academic and social trips – were some of the markers of learners from economically privileged families, and those markers earned them respect from peers. While carrying of gadgets like cellphones was prohibited in the school, girls who were known to own the latest cellphone models were respected. Hunter (2010) spoke about how material possessions like a cell-phone and consumer items, offered anyone a chance of being respected. These constructions are explored further in the discussions that follow.

In-line or Out-of-line Friendships: Sexuality and Gender Regulations among Boys and Girls

In drawing out gender boundaries, learners constructed patterns of social relations, interactions or friendships, as in-line or out-of-line with gender positioning. When behaviour was said to be in-line, it meant acceptable or socially-sanctioned behaviour, and an out-of- line behaviour represented a failure to respect explicit or non-explicit gender boundaries. During the focus-group discussions on friendships and the activities that girls and boys share, certain practices and sometimes the friendship between members of the opposite sex itself

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were considered inappropriate (see appendix 5: Focus Group Interview Schedule). The research participants mentioned the following as gender in-line or out-of-line relations:

Nozipho: Well for me, I see no problem in sharing a meal with a boy. School life is tougher when hungry. But the problem is these boys. Most of them don’t respect us. They don’t treat us nicely. Real friendship with them is difficult. Thandiwe: I prefer boys as friends as opposed to girls. Girls like to gossip, but boys are

cool. When going out with them, they have no hung-ups about petty things like hairstyles or weight. I guess I am used to them, because even at home I am the only girl with four brothers.

Siphesihle: As olova (boys), our lives are simple. We understand each other, we understand our sufferings. Girls are hectic. I limit my engagements with them. We can do schoolwork together but I keep my distance. Anyway, they also need the space to talk about girls’ stuff.

Sihle: Girls are always serious with their schoolwork. I am cool in studying with them or getting notes from them. Nothing more, nothing less. I only share jokes or play with my sisters or my baby (intimate girlfriend).

Namhla: The problem with friendships with boys – they like pushing boundaries. You invite him to your home and he thinks you are together or assume that you are dating. The next moment he forces himself on you. The best thing is for girls to keep with the girls and boys to keep with the boys.

Nomusa: Yeah I hate that. Even here at school, when you are nice to a boy, the boy wants to touch you all over. I am not saying I don’t want to be touched, but they should know the difference. Touching of private places is limited to your boyfriend (lover), not any boy.

Sbusiso: We are all the same … maybe girls are worse. When you are nice to them, they assume otherwise. I end up being confused about how I should relate to them. What irritates [me] most about girls, is that they are like weather – one moment they are cold and the next moment they are hot. When they want a good time, you are their friend, but when things are tough, they resort to tears. Thandiwe: I guess my friendship with boys is different. We hug and kiss each other, but everyone knows that we cannot cross the line. We just know where to stop. When we are out together, they protect me.

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Thandeka: I agree that your boyfriends should protect you, but I think it is also our responsibility as girls to protect ourselves. We should know our limits. We can’t be too friendly with boys and expect them not to take advantage of us. Mfundisi: In my prayer group, we are a family. We treat each other as brothers and

sisters. Respect is the foundation of our relationship. We look after each other and help one another.

In the above extract, boys’ and girls’ comments depict, on the one hand, how gender is actively made and regulated in their peer relationships. They spoke of the difficulty of maintaining platonic relationships and the difficulty of maintaining the friendship once relationships are heterosexualised, and about the confusion surrounding the desire to form or not form heterosexual relationships. These boys and girls spoke of being constantly compelled to define physical, mental or social spaces in preserving their platonic peer relationships.

On the other hand, the extract depicts how the gender boundaries of girls and boys were permeable and not static. For some, studying together as the opposite sex was ok, but being too friendly within the same study group was viewed as not being ok. It is for this reason that Connell (2008:136) “spoke of ‘projects’ and ‘trajectories’ – to capture the way young people launch themselves in certain directions in social space”. Thandeka’s statements about the importance of girls knowing their limits and not being too friendly, evidently demonstrates how sexuality gender constructs are continuously planned navigations and performances.

The Gender Politics of Food: Girls Eating to Belong and Boys Eating to Take Charge in Social Relations

This section discusses how food within the school context was used to maintain, police and regulate relations between boys and girls and the norms of heterosexuality. I begin the discussions with a conversation between myself and a boy learner:

Researcher: Are you in this line? (Referring to a food vendor queue) Thabiso: Don’t worry Mam, you can pass me.

Researcher: Why?

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Researcher: Oh my! Did you see what time it is? (alerting him that the lunch break was nearly finished)

Thabiso: Yes Mam, but I have to wait. I am hungry. Researcher: There is plenty of food here.

Thabiso: Food? What food Mam? Fruits, jiggies (chips) and biscuits? Researcher: Yes and many more (pointing at the food displayed).

Thabiso: No Mam, I am really hungry. Researcher: I am hungry too. I am buying fruits.

Thabiso: Obviously Mam, obviously … (smiling and avoiding a response). Researcher: Meaning? Talk to me (persuading him to complete his sentence). Thabisa: You have to watch your figure. Mr Mathe (referring to my husband)

will leave you when you become fat.

Researcher: What about you? What will happen to you when you become fat? Thabiso: No Mam. Igwinya is not fattening to boys, but makes them strong. And

girls love strong men. I need real food. Where will I get these muscles from (flexing his arm muscles), if I don’t get real food.

The conversation I had with Thabiso (above) during the school lunchbreak demonstrates how food choices and bodies were highly gendered at my research site. They served as an act of constructing femininities and masculinities. Thabiso associated eating igwinya with being a man – and muscle gain and eating fruits, with being a woman and weight loss. Masculinity was thus equated with strength, and femininity equated to delicateness or weight loss. Moreover, he spoke of “gender through a ‘heterosexual matrix’, in which the ‘real’ expression of masculinity and femininity are embedded within a presupposed heterosexuality” (Butler, 1990:151).

When Thabiso spoke of my food choice as a means to prevent being dumped by my husband, he used heterosexuality as the 'norm' through which everything else is defined. My husband was used as a reference through which my existence as a woman was defined. He held a view that my identity as a woman depended upon, and is stabilised by the heterosexual matrix (adapted from Haywood, 2008). To him, to be a ‘real’ girl or woman involves a desire to impress or to please boys or men. His statement about men needing muscles and real food revealed that he was trapped within the dominant discourses which support images of

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machismo - a form of hegemonic masculinity and power that sustains gender inequalities. Allen (1999:135) asserts that the “dominant heterosexual identities and associated discourses which support an active male and passive female sexuality, are deeply embedded within social and political participation and are perceived as normative”. A discourse that subordinates, marginalises, dominates or silences others, is a cause for concern – especially in a country with a long history of racial oppression, gender-based violence, inequalities and where gays and lesbians are ‘victimised’, ‘murdered’ and face suicidal risks (Bhana, 2012).

After school, on my way home, I gave a lift to Thandeka and Nonhlanhla (research participants). I deliberately started a conversation about food.

Researcher: I am so hungry; I cannot wait to get home.

Nonhlanhla: Shame, I feel sorry for you mam. Why did you not buy anything during lunch break?

Researcher: I bought fruit, but I could not eat them because of lack of time. Nonhlanhla: Fruits?

Researcher: Yes, fruits.

Nonhlanhla: Ay, you were not hungry.

Researcher: What do you mean? I told you that I am still hungry. Nonhlanhla: Ay mam, just admit that you are on diet.

Thandeka: No Thandeka. Maybe, mam is one of those who pretends to eat sensibly in public, but when she reaches home she eats everything that comes her way (both girls giggle).

Researcher: Why are you laughing at me? Why should I do that? Thandeka: Ma – that is what most girls do here (at school). Researcher: Why?

Thandeka: You know mam, boys tease you if you eat anything. They keep picking on you – calling you names.

Nonhlanhla: Thandeka, not only boys. Other girls isolate you. Noone wants to be associated with ugimba (a person with a big appetite) [both girls giggle].

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Thandeka: A big appetite is associated with being fat. Being fat is associated with being less attractive. And when you are not attractive you can kiss your chances of getting a date goodbye (both girls giggle).

Researcher: Is that so?

Nonhlanhla: Don’t worry mam, you can eat as much as you like – you are married already. And me … I don’t care, I eat whatever and whenever.

Researcher: But you (Nonhlanhla) are not married; how come you say you don’t care?

Nonhlanhla: Me mam, I am happy with who I am. If a person wants to be my friend, she must accept me as I am.

Like the conversation I had with Thabiso, in the above excerpt, heterosexuality was used as the ‘norm’ through which everything else is defined. Nonhlanhla and Thandeka’s statements, in essence, implied that girls’ sense of belonging, friendships and being liked by boys depended on their physical attractiveness – which is achieved through ‘regulated and normalised’ feminine eating habits and bodies. My conversation with the girls echoes the widespread notion of culturally inscribed ‘docile bodies’, which are invested, marked, trained, scrutinedand tortured within heterosexual discourse (Renold, 1999; Foucault, 1975). For girls to be accepted and to confidently participate in friendship or intimate relationships with girls or with boys, there was a lot of pressure upon them to succumb to dominant discourses, which position them in traditionally gendered ways.

The ‘attractive’ body was the girls’ licence to be acceptable in relationships. Nonhlanhla’s expressed concern that other girls isolate a person with a big appetite (fat) and Thandeka’s suspicion that I was one of those who eat sensibly in public and a lot in private, illustrated that bodies are the means by which girls achieve competent membership of discursive, dominant femininities and relationships. The notion of girls constructing their femininities through their bodies and by heavily investing in relationships with their peers, has also been noted by other researchers (Opie and Opie, 1959; Davies, 1982; Rossiter, 1994; Merten, 1996a; Hey, 1997, cited in Renold, 1999). However, the fact that some girls were eating a lot in private, clearly indicated that this regulated performance of dominant femininity was an illusion that was unattainable for some. Moreover, it was rejected by people like Nonhlanhla, who explicitly admitted to eating everything anytime, and being happy with who she was.

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The Gender politics of ‘Ukushela’ (Proposing Love): Who Should be Followed for Love or Chasing for Love?

Understanding the dynamics of negotiations of sexual relationships among young people, is critical to unpacking the power and gender dynamics that prevail in local enactments of sexuality (Nyazi, 2008). The question of who should shela (propose love) to who, presented important contestations over sexuality among teenage learners at my research site. In fact, there was a competing and conflicting discourse about who should initiate, establish or refuse intimate relationships between boys and girls.

After observing a LO lesson on relationships (21/02/2012), I had a conversation with my research participants. The aim was to follow up on the sizzling debate that took place during their formal lesson, which formed part of a broader understanding of how young people initiate sexual relationships among themselves:

Researcher: I really enjoyed your discussion on forming relationships. It was interesting to listen to who approached who in a relationship.

Smanga: What was interesting mam? Don’t you see what kind of girls these are? Researcher: What do you mean Smanga?

Smanga: Mam, do you think it is normal for a girl to propose to a boy? Be honest mam, whose culture is this? Have you ever done that?

Sthembiso: (jumping to the conversation before I could respond or invite him to comment) Why, girls are trying to be something they are not born for. They must leave ‘ukushela’ (proposing love) to the experts, mam. Their role is to ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Bonga: Mam, I think we need to give these girls our trousers. If they want to be men,

‘akucace’ (it should be clear), or if they are gay that should be clear too. (followed by class laughs).

Researcher: Girls, what are you saying?

Nothando: People are too westernised now. They don’t know who they are anymore. ‘Lafa elihle kakhulu’ (the African idiom meaning good days are gone).

Sbongile: Mam, pardon these idiots, they want to live in the past. Girls nowadays have the right to choose who and what they want.

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(Yes, yes, yes, tell them Sbo – other girls shouting in support of Sbongile).

The above excerpt points at how “young peoples’ sexual encounters are negotiated within a context where dominant social norms of masculinity portray young men as conquering heroes in the sexual arena – and where the social construction of femininity predisposes women to