This piece is not meant to cause chest pains, but rather to offer an honest reflection, one shaped by what I have witnessed over the years as a journalist.

I have said it before, and I will say it again: South Africa is a wounded country.

For the past 30 years, we have been bleeding onto one another.

And if we are not careful, we will continue to bleed into the next generation.

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This is what happens when a nation has not fully found peace or clarity on what it truly wants to become.

We often comfort ourselves with polite lies.

We say, “I don’t see colour,” or “It doesn’t matter whether someone is black or white.” Yet, in reality, our daily interactions tell a different story. We still treat each other differently based on the colour of our skin, subtly, sometimes unconsciously, but undeniably.

Election season exposes these cracks with uncomfortable clarity. Suddenly, communities are remembered, voices are amplified, and promises are made. Political parties know every informal settlement when votes are needed.

They walk those streets, shake hands, and take photographs. But outside of election cycles, many of these same communities are left unseen, unheard, and unsupported. They are only good for votes, but not for their benefits.

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What is even more troubling is how easily old divisions are repackaged. Narratives emerge that suggest some must be “rescued” because their own have failed them.

It is a dangerous script, one that echoes the very dynamics once fought so hard to dismantle.

The truth we avoid is this: perhaps we were never fully ready for the new South Africa.

On all sides, there were hidden agendas, unresolved pain, and compromises that were never openly confronted.

Instead of healing, we learned to coexist with our wounds, covering them with slogans of unity while the underlying fractures remained.

Today, those fractures are impossible to ignore.

If we are serious about building a future that does not inherit the bitterness of the past, then we must begin with honesty.

Not the kind spoken only during elections or crises, but the kind that demands accountability, introspection, and uncomfortable conversations, rather than forming new parties promising to do better, which only leads to a longer ballot paper that makes no change.

Because if we do not confront the truth now, we are not just failing ourselves, we are failing the generations to come.

And a nation that refuses to heal will remain exactly what we are today: a country still bleeding.