Bika and I just finished a hike up to Elsie’s Peak in Fish Hoek. The hike comes with no warmup, which I like to think is part of its charm. From the foot of the trailhead, we were instantly climbing the stone ravine steps upward. After a brief attempt to convince Bika that a little walk never hurt anybody, we kept on climbing and climbing and climbing upwards.
Clouds covered the top of the mountain and, as the wind picked up, I was convinced we’d blow away. On the way up, a group of hikers told us not to waste our time because the dense cloud cover prevented any kind of view from the mountain’s summit.
But when we made it to the top, the view of Glencairn, Fish Hoek, and Simon’s Town in one direction and Noordhoek in the other was absolutely breathtaking. As we descended the mountain, and especially as we got stuck behind a barbed wire fence and had to invent our own way out, I was reminded of all the things that make Cape Town special.
This program is designed to teach us, as American students, to recognize and confront systems of oppression. Coming from a household which faces generational, cyclical poverty and traversing campus as a first-generation college student, I feel more aware of oppression than most and prepared to spot those systems when they are at work in our lives.
But, as each person experiences the program in different ways, my time in South Africa taught me something radically different. Here in South Africa, there is a resiliency of the human spirit, an entrepreneurial drive, and a generosity that uplifts everyone. That indomitable spirit rises above the painful scar of apartheid and the brutal legacy of socioeconomic division, and that inherent courage has led South Africa’s transition to democracy.
I came to South Africa under the impression that the country had solved the “racial question.” I remember seeing books on apartheid in the library of the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, leafing eagerly through the pages fascinated by a history that felt so inherently familiar to Birmingham’s own.
But upon landing, I quickly realized that couldn’t be further from the truth. Unfathomably deep wealth inequality still exists here in South Africa and previously marginalized residents continue to be held back by the same barriers to economic opportunity that existed in the last century.
That is not to say government-led initiatives to redistribute wealth and land are not working — rather, I believe they are — but these initiatives are not nearly far-reaching enough in scale to create the kind of equity that allows every young person to succeed in this lifetime.
My hometown of Birmingham, Alabama is a really special place. Birmingham is at the core of who I am, the stitching that holds together my pieces.
I know Birmingham better than anywhere else in the world — you could drop me anywhere downtown and I could find my way home with my eyes closed, guided simply by the feel of the sidewalk under my feet. I’ve walked thousands of miles (a favorite hobby) early in the morning and late at night, hoping that street-level exposure would help me make sense of the challenges that afflict this postindustrial city and better prepare me to be a civic leader in the near future.
Just like Birmingham experiences risk factors that draw its residents deeper into poverty and poor health, the city also benefits from protective factors that improve residents’ quality of life. For example, in Birmingham, entrepreneurial spirit abounds.
As a progressive city under the rule of a conservative state, Birmingham residents are empowered to tackle their own problems with agency and drive. Residents are heavily incentivized to start their own businesses, pursue higher education, or attend trade school to further their job readiness — all of which can reverse the course of individual lives at impressive scale.
The people of Birmingham are accustomed to fighting a defiant and oppressive state: from the earliest days of the Civil Rights Movement, the people of Birmingham learned that when they gather in the street and demand equitable change, it can indeed come. And that spirit has morphed Birmingham over the past six decades into a thriving post-industrial city with economic opportunities for all.
South Africa, and really Cape Town, seems to be different. A minuscule percent of the population will move into the next socioeconomic bracket in this generation, and an even smaller percentage will go from poverty to generational wealth. Black South Africans in particular have missed out on generations of asset-building opportunities that other countries have provided for their low-income residents, leaving residents stratified in socioeconomic brackets that closely reflect the apartheid era.
Despite that, the people of South Africa remain determined to overcome. They pursue justice with a vigor I’ve never experienced in my short life. They welcome foreigners with a level of warmth, generosity, and genuine kindness that I couldn’t have dreamt of when applying to study abroad programs last spring.
One of the most valuable pieces of advice I received when coming to Cape Town was to get to know the people who are part of your everyday life. It doesn’t matter if you ‘need’ them in that moment, or foresee some kind of connection outside of the context you interact. All of those people compose the rhythm of your life, and closeness will only benefit you. In this way, place etches deeply onto my heart.
In South Africa, it almost seems like there is a social incentive to get to know everyone because it keeps you safe. So Cape Town especially becomes a very, very small world. There is no reason to ever be alone in Cape Town, as there is always someone else there for you. Whether it’s forced by the housing density of townships or chosen like a gaggle of UCT girls, you never feel unsupported by the broader whole of society.
Some of my favorite people I’ve been blessed to casually meet in South Africa include the following over the last couple months of the program.
My pharmacist at Clicks Riverlands who I accidentally told I was going to Botswana when he refused to supply me with a long-term prescription of South African iron supplements.
Dr. McKeag in Tokai and her wonderfully competent administrative staff who offer first-class medical care.
All of the residents of Freeland our cohort became close with, most notably including Julius, Julika, Jonas, Mikos, Matilda, and Miriam.
The stone-faced bouncer at Stones who I got to know by bringing too many first dates there, but who would always give me his honest read on whoever I was with and pat them down with a little extra intention.
The barista at Ground Zero who had the most welcoming energy during our near-daily coffee runs.
The bouncers and bartenders at Rita’s, which quickly became a regular haunt. Bika and I’s yoga instructors, including one expectant mother and one dual US citizen who just headed back to Orlando for the holidays.
And Annemarie, Brother David, the housekeeping mamas, and the property manager guys at Freeland Lodge.
For me, Cape Town brought an infinite number of firsts. In an increasingly global world, where fewer and fewer students are going abroad for the first time when they embark on a study abroad semester, this experience has been liberating, eye-opening, and permanently changing.
After extending my visit to Cape Town by two weeks, I finally made it back to Birmingham after a grueling 30-hour travel day through Qatar, including doing a go-around at ATL as a final extension of the trip.
The assumption is that we are able to return home and integrate into what we believe is ‘home,’ but we have been away from that home for a long time and undergone changes that will make re-immersion challenging. I found myself cycling rapidly between sadness and joy in my first hours in the United States — the sadness of leaving behind a place and people that became home, the joy of hearing a familiar Southern accent wish me “Happy Holidays.”
I believe the most important approach from here is treating myself with kindness, especially as the world goes through changes that make home look and feel different.
I’ve been surprised over the last couple days just how familiar home feels. I think I have an advantage over other students during re-entry: four years ago, I learned to love home. Many young people go their entire lives dreading the thought of returning home, viewing it as a container for their personal and professional growth.
But for me, Birmingham is a launching pad where any destination is impossible — and after conquering living on the other side of the world, every challenging task in Birmingham feels small.
If anything fills me with sadness in these days, it is the way in which Birmingham has become less of a home base and more of a crash pad in between stages of life, where I get to spend time in shorter and shorter intervals as the years crawl on.
Lily Myrick
Fall 2025
SIT - Multiculturalism and Human Rights in South Africa
Columbian College of Arts and Science
Political Science Major