More than thirty years after apartheid's formal end, South Africa remains locked in a struggle over what transformation truly means.

Lately, we hear the refrain that progress should be driven by merit and not mandates or fictional “race-based laws.” Not only does it irk, but it's also a phrase that hides a deeper discomfort with what genuine equity demands: structural change, not sentiment.

Calls, mainly by white citizens, to abandon race-based policies in favor of “pure merit” are disingenuous, especially to those who have benefited from the very systems such policies aim to undo. But they rely on a false premise: that the world today offers a level playing field across all races and that talent rises like cream on top.

This is not true, and it has never been.

Merit is not a neutral or natural concept. It is shaped by access to quality education, mentorship, inherited capital, early work experience, and the freedom to take professional risks.

In South Africa, these privileges were systematically denied to the majority of the population. Their effects remain deeply entrenched in the economy and in the cultural imagination of who is seen as competent.

When “merit” is defined in terms that reflect these accumulated advantages and privileges, it becomes a gatekeeping tool, not a fair metric. Many Black South Africans who are highly capable are overlooked or undervalued because they don’t come wrapped in the polish that privilege makes possible.

I see this reality every day.

Transformation does not lower the bar. It asks us to confront those who set the bar, for whom, and why so many are locked out.

It demands we build a new playing field altogether, one where the starting line isn't a privilege inherited by a few.

South African labor policy requires that once a business employs more than 50 people, it must comply with employment equity regulations. Some call this a “job creation cliff,” a bureaucratic burden that disincentivizes growth.

But what’s rarely acknowledged is the deeper fear behind this narrative: that real transformation will mean letting go of the comfort of racial homogeneity in leadership, management, and ownership.

These laws aren’t coming for businesses. And misinformation that positions it as such is deeply troublesome.

Yes, compliance can be complex. But if the cost of creating a more equitable workforce feels too high or too demanding for a company, we must then ask: What was that company building in the first place, and for whom? Was it building a fortress for the privileged or a nation for all?

This dynamic is especially visible in industries like film, where compliance is often bypassed or ignored altogether.

On South African film sets, it’s not uncommon to see the few Black faces in assistant or intern roles or absent altogether from positions of authority. A toxic assumption persists that the most highly skilled technicians are white, while Black professionals are relegated to aspirant or support roles, often seen as incapable of leading departments or productions.

This unspoken bias has tangible consequences. It means many of us remain unskilled or underdeveloped, not because we lack ability, but because we simply lack access. The barrier to entry is astronomically high unless you have connections and influence. And even then, you are expected to prove what others are simply assumed to be.

South Africa’s education crisis is real and urgently needs radical repair and transformation. But placing the entire burden of transformation on education is a sleight of hand, one that ignores how economic exclusion, structural racism, and generational poverty operate in tandem.

Even a high-quality education cannot erase the obstacles facing a young Black South African graduate entering a workplace where leadership is overwhelmingly white, networks are inherited, and "cultural fit" is code for assimilation.

Often, the school you attended, the university you graduated from, and even your accent become subliminal hurdles. These aren’t neutral; they are filters that gatekeep access.

Transformation policies are not a substitute for education. They are a scaffold. They exist because we cannot afford to wait another generation for access to trickle down.

We must stop pretending that equity is effortless.

Real transformation is not just about metrics or scorecards; it’s about redistribution, access, and reimagining what success looks like in a society where historical injustice shaped everything from land ownership to language fluency.

South Africa’s future will not be built on nostalgia for a racialized version of “excellence” that excluded most of the country. It will be built on a reckoning, on a redesign, and on the courage to cede space when fairness demands it.

The work of transformation belongs to all of us, not just government or business, not just universities and policymakers, and certainly not just those who’ve been locked out until now.

Those who hold power and resources must stop mistaking equity for attack.

This is not coercion. This is a correction.