In order to reach these goals a pass system was considered, though the women, having witnessed the humiliation of their men, fought for their autonomy. They realised that such a system would be detrimental not only to female domestic workers, but also to women who made a living by selling liquor and prostitution. During 1912, many protest meetings were held in Johannesburg and other Witwatersrand towns, supported by black political groups and churches that believed the pass laws would subject women to maltreatment and bullying by the infamous black police force. Resistance was so great that the proposed pass law of 1912 was never endorsed. The decision was ‘that the question of including native females under the Pass Law was neither expedient nor necessary, as the enforcing of a native female Pass Law would be deeply resented by the natives all over South Africa, and would have a most prejudicial effect on our labour supplies’.15
At this stage, the freedom of movement of unemployed black men was already severely restricted. There was a strong government move to relocate all ‘surplus’ black people to the rural areas; only men who could prove that they had employment would be allowed in the cities. Exactly what the migrant patterns of women were is difficult to judge. Although they now had much easier access to the previously male-dominated field of domestic work, the women’s daily activities and problems passed by with hardly any documentation, except when this had some impact on the supply and productivity of black male workers.
1913–1923
‘No tampering with our women’
The aftermath of the South African War continued to disrupt the country for many years. Natural disasters such as drought contributed to the drastic impoverishment of rural areas and the implementation of the Natives Land Act of 1913 pushed even more black families off the farms. One of the results of this law was the widespread practice of wives of tenant families working in the homes of white farmers. Many women, however, chose instead to earn money by working in towns and later on in cities. The migrant labour system meant that many women went in search of their husbands, especially during the 1920s. The 1921 census found that, during the preceding ten-year period, the number of ‘non-European’ women in Johannesburg had increased by 180%. It became evident that women, too, were becoming urbanised at a rapid pace, whether because of their own initiative or desiring to reunite with their families. The languages spoken by these new arrivals were mainly seSotho and isiXhosa.16
At this stage, the ‘Black Peril’ began to take on a different form: whites feared that crime, disease and upheavals in the slum areas of Johannesburg would threaten their own neighbourhoods and the white community order. The Transvaal Commission for Local Government, known as the Stallard Commission, issued strict regulations regarding ‘redundant natives’ in an effort to chase them from the cities: those men who were ‘lazy’ or unemployed, and women whose ‘unattachment’ could be negatively interpreted because they had neither father nor husband to whom they were answerable.17 Domestic work was the only means by which a woman could live relatively safely, securely and independently in the city.
Despite strong opposition, a vociferous and influential black elite that included women developed, and various groups were formed in Johannesburg. In November 1917, Charlotte Maxeke, president of the Bantu Women’s League, met with Prime Minister Louis Botha, who was at the time also Minister of Native Affairs, to discuss the proposed new pass laws for women. Ten days later, she spoke out strongly against the proposals at an anti-pass protest meeting at Klipspruit.18 Many white officials and church leaders were clearly sensitive to the possible effects of opposition by black men to ‘tampering with their women’, and in 1919 the bishop of Pretoria warned of serious trouble if their pleas were not heeded: ‘The inference was that women were the inviolate property of men, and that the alienation of further rights of property from African men by officials of the white state was not a step to be taken lightly.’19
The idea that men were the ‘owners’ and guardians of women would persist for a long time. This is evident, for example, in Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country (1948): Pastor Stephen Kumalo does not for a moment doubt that it is his right to rescue his son’s pregnant wife and his sister Cynthia from the wicked influences of a Gomorrah-like Johannesburg. Though at the time critics read Cynthia’s refusal to return to rural Natal as a sign of moral degeneration, I prefer to interpret this as evidence of a woman’s desire for independence.
1924–1931
‘Her husband is still her lord.’
The Natives (Urban Areas) Act No 21 of 1923 came into effect in January 1924, but made practically no difference to the freedom of movement of black women. They still did not carry passes and there was no way of establishing whether they had announced their arrival in a town or city at a ‘reception depot’. The population that was supposed to be governed by this law was undergoing rapid change. By the mid-1920s, not only single women but also many married women who had children and were determined to create a permanent life for themselves arrived in Johannesburg. The authorities were powerless to fit these women into their schemes. In the meantime, Charlotte Maxeke had established a small labour bureau near the Department of Native Affairs in Market Street where she assisted with the ‘placing of good girls in employment’.20 Acknowledging that the women’s stay in the city would not be temporary led to the realisation that official policy concerning housing would need to be adjusted.
According to the 1921 census, only 23% of all white, Asian and coloured women older than 15 years were economically active compared to 92.4% of the men. Coloured women led with 37.4% being employed, while 19.4% of white women and 12.6% of Asian women worked. Only 10% of black women did paid work. As in all capitalist societies, women’s work was the least skilled and they were paid the lowest wages. Of the black working women, 65% were employed as domestic workers; at 85%, the figure was higher among working coloured women. More than anything else, their domestic work helped to create an image of black women as subservient and motherly – which also influenced the way the women perceived themselves and their relationships with their employers. In the intimate spaces of white homes, close ties developed between black women and white people which were completely different to other interracial connections. White and black women were in daily, close proximity, which enabled the development of personal relationships across the rigid colour line. However superficial and limited, these relationships were nevertheless impossible elsewhere. Because practically all white women had a black servant, they were free to go out to work, to become involved in various organisations or simply enjoy a vast amount of free time. Most white children grew up with a black nanny who was often like a mother to them but also always remained a servant. Furthermore, many of the reported (and probably unreported) cases of ‘immoral’ interracial sexual relations took place between male employers and servant women (see chapter 8).
In the meantime, young white women from farms and small country towns were also streaming to the cities in an effort to escape rural poverty. Although many of them found work in clothing factories, this was often at the expense of black and coloured women who could otherwise also have held these better-paid jobs.21 An example is Dina, daughter of Oom Gert in Trekkerswee (Sorrows of the Trek; 1915) by the poet known as Totius (1877–1953).
As long as pass laws proved ineffective in preventing black women from migrating to urban areas, the only way to control black families was by clearing slum areas and offering alternative housing, and then prohibiting further newcomers on the grounds that no housing was available. It was on this basis that Orlando township came into being south-west of Johannesburg in the early 1930s. For the next 50 years, until the 1980s, limited housing would prove an effective measure for controlling the influx of black people.
There was still a widely-held belief that most black women were either prostitutes or working in the illegal liquor trade. It was also believed that they were responsible for the spread of venereal disease, which, until the 1930s, was called the ‘sickness from women’,