“I can't imagine a day when I wake up and I'm not a rebel” - Dr. Tlaleng Mofokeng (South Africa) - 1/4
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Dr. Tlaleng Mofokeng (or Dr. T. as she’s widely known) lives many lives at once, and all of them are fascinating. A South African medical doctor, she runs the DISA clinic, a Johannesburg-based women’s health practice, and she provides consulting services at home and abroad through her firm Nalane for Reproductive Justice. Dr. T.also serves as the Deputy Chairperson of the Sexual and Reproductive Justice Coalition of South Africa and the country co-lead for Global Doctors for Choice. She advocates for sexual and reproductive health and rights of women and children through her writing and her public speaking (speeches and TV and radio shows and features). That’s among other things. The woman is a legend!
So I had high hopes for our conversation, and let me tell you: it was even more inspiring than I had imagined. Dr. T. took me through the journey that led her to embrace activism over the comfort of a privileged but silent career (part 1, below). We spoke about Dr. T.’s voice, and why it’s crucial for her to show up unapologetically as a Black South African woman wherever she goes (part 2), before diving into some of the bold statements she makes in her recent book, Dr T: A Guide to Sexual Health and Pleasure (part 3 - you don’t want to miss it!). I couldn’t let Dr. T. go without asking about feminism; check out part 4 to read about her feminist vision and practice. (Quick note: the interview was edited for brevity and clarity.)
Are you ready for this?
Hello Dr T., thank you for accepting my invitation. I loved your book and I’m excited to have this opportunity for us to talk about it, but also about who you are and what you stand for. Let me begin with a simple question: how do you like to introduce yourself?
“Hello, I’m Tlaleng. I’m a sex worker.” (She laughs).
Ha! I didn’t see that one coming. For real?
Sometimes. I always find that to be a weird question because usually, when people ask, “what do you do?” I know they’re really asking, “how much respect should I give you?” So, I deliberately don't introduce myself as Dr. Tlaleng. No. I like to say, “Hello, I’m Tlaleng,” and just blend in. After some time, someone usually goes, “No, but hold on. Aren’t you Dr. T.?” And I'm like, “Yes, it's me.”
It's quite interesting to see how people treat you when they don't know that you are Dr. T and when they do. The minute people know who you are, they treat you differently. Suddenly they want a consultation, they want to ask you about that pain they’ve had in the back for ten years.
That sounds annoying. But then you’re a public figure in South Africa and globally, so I guess that’s to be expected, don’t you think?
Yes, I suppose it’s part of my necessary social performance. But I love socializing, meeting people and watching them interact. I suppose that’s what makes me a good therapist. I don't always have to be the center of the interaction. I prefer to just be on the sideline and watch.
Being hypervisible sometimes doesn't allow me to just enjoy being myself and relax, even in a social setting. People just want to use your social currency and the proximity they have to you. I see the visibility and the fame and all of that, in fact, as a terrible price to pay for the work that one does. I didn't go into activism saying, “I want to be an activist and I want to be known and I want to be seen.”
“I see the visibility and the fame and all of that, in fact, as a terrible price to pay for the work that one does.”
How did you get into activism, then? The doctors I know just stick to treating patients…
My mother always encouraged me to speak my mind. She never punished me for asking questions or giving my opinion. So when I found myself in medical school, I would always be that person who would say things like, “I understand that you are the professor, but it's not okay to only be showing images of Black people’s genitals when you're teaching about STIs, while when you're talking about health and wellness, your average reference point is a European male who weighs 70kgs.”
For a long time, I thought these were normal things for me to say. Then I realized my peers in medical school, my fellow interns and even doctors, were scared of being reprimanded for speaking their mind, for disagreeing with the teacher, or just for taking a discussion further. I would always ask, “hold on guys, did you see to that?” And everyone would say, “yeah.” Then I was like, “so why are we quiet? Are we saying this is okay? Why am I the only one moved to action?”
Speaking up is what she does best. Dr Tlaleng Mofokeng (aka Dr. T.) presents her book at a launch event. Photo credit: Zuzi.
Did you find the answer to that? Do you know why you speak up when others keep quiet?
It’s just who I am. I can't divorce Tlaleng from Dr. T, and I can’t divorce the medical work from being vocal. I can't imagine a day when I wake up and I'm not a rebel. Or a day when I’m just accepting things as they are just because they've always been that way. I wouldn't know what that feels like.
I think becoming a doctor gave me the expertise I needed to back up what I’d been vocal about. I wasn't just saying “I don't like this because it doesn't make me feel good”. I could back it up with research and evidence. And so, I was able to argue more properly, with more clarity, with more with stubbornness, and with the arrogance that's required when people say, “who do you think you are?” Now I can tell them, “Well, actually, I'm a medical doctor, I’ve been doing this for 12 years and this is exactly who I think I am.”
That being said, the expectation for Black women – and Black people in general – to always back up what we say about our own life experiences with data and degrees is rooted in prejudice. There's nothing that I'm saying now as a medical doctor or even in the book that I haven't been saying for the last five, six, eight, ten years. But now people are like, oh, now we can call her like an expert. She's earned it. Meanwhile, you have this mediocre White men and women calling themselves experts of the global South for rubbish.
“The expectation for Black women – and Black people in general – to always back up what we say about our own life experiences with data and degrees is rooted in prejudice.”
Tell me about it. But being vocal is one thing, and being an activist is another. Why did you choose to take that extra, risky step?
I knew that having a voice and speaking out was just as important for myself, but also for the community and people around me who couldn't, for whatever reason. Being a medical doctor, I have to deal with people's faces, their emotions and their lives every day. It's not an academic thing. These are real-life people: people in crisis, people who are suicidal, people who have been raped, women who need shelters for their children, their belongings and themselves.
People often tweet about how overwhelmed and triggered news headlines make them feel. Imagine being that doctor, then, who has to stitch up a three-year-old with wounds from rape. For me, these are real-life people. And so, the sense of urgency and the stubbornness that I bring to the world, it comes from seeing these people every day.
Plus, I don't have a choice. I remember vividly taking the Hippocratic oath, and I know it goes beyond preventing diseases and treating people. The Hippocratic oath also talks about being an advocate for your patients’ rights, and that’s a part I take seriously. I think many practitioners have forgotten that advocacy is part of their medical practice, too. Recently, I’ve seen questions on Twitter and in the media about whether universities should be producing medical practitioners who also fight for social justice. It makes me laugh. Like, what have you guys been doing all along?
To me, being an advocate is part of my medical practice, part of being a doctor, part of being a healer. It’s about improving the context of people's lives. Everywhere around the world, doctors are highly regarded in society. It’s important that I use that title to do something that’s actually meaningful to society.
