True Story – Nompumelelo Ranaka

Nompumelelo Ranaka, 38, has been married for 13 years and describes those years as marred by uncertainty, loneliness and forced silence. She’s now ready to unglorify the status society affords the institution of marriage

“Let me start off by saying that my husband is a beautiful soul, which may be confusing considering that he’s the same guy whom being married to hasn’t been fun. We make a great money-making team, but sadly, the home front hasn’t been anything to write home about. Sometimes, just because two awesome people are in a relationship, doesn’t guarantee that their union will be an automatic success. Our personalities are too different, and I’ve come to accept that he might make someone else happy in the future because I’m not selfish. I’m a nurturing lover, which is also not a good thing, because I tend to completely forget about myself. But now, I’m ready to speak out because 40 is about to hit me in the face, and I realise I can’t go into that new phase still living a lie.

Being on a reality TV show (The Ranakas) has taken away my privacy, but I keep reminding myself of the reasons I signed up for the show in the first place. What I will not allow the show to do, however, is limit what I want to do or say because quite frankly, I don’t care what people think of me. However, having the limelight cast on mine and my children’s lives has heightened my sense of responsibility.

I got married in Abu Dhabi 13 years ago. My husband and I met at work in 2005 and six months later, we tied the knot — do not try this at home [chuckles]. When I made the decision to marry, I was still dealing with getting raped at 16, so my perception of black men was very negative. In fact, I remember thinking to myself — I’m either going to date white or become lesbian. I value the truth and my husband was a man of his word, which in my head made him the ideal partner. In retrospect, I made the mistake of not asking vital and value-focused questions before we jumped the broom. There was a lot of spoiling and shopping in the beginning which, in turn, made our foundation unstable. I don’t know how I could have missed all of that when I’ve always been strict about not being for sale. I still remember walking down the aisle with my head bowed, stomach in a knot, tangled thoughts and the question, ‘Am I really doing this?’ ringing in my head. I suddenly felt embarrassed when I got knocked with the sense that the man I was marrying was white! I don’t think I had dealt with that insecurity and that was a big deal for the longest time. And of course I felt like a traitor – it was a recurring internal fight. Some perceived me to be a gold digger and a ‘better black’. Essentially, I don’t know what it’s like to be married, because ours has always been a long-distance marriage.

I got to a point where I was doing the loving alone and wondered why I was sticking around. In 2012, I consulted a divorce lawyer for the first time and in January 2017, I proposed that we separate, but he was against the idea, saying that we had kids to consider. Two years prior to this, he’d lost his job and I come from a family where I was taught to never kick a dog when it’s down. So once again, I stuck around to help him build himself up, only for our marital challenges to reemerge when he was sailing in safe waters again. To keep sane and protect myself, I kept busy on the home front. I’d either work tirelessly at making our house a home — putting up that picture, renovating that room, cooking dinner at 10 am and making sure that the children’s grades remained great because why would the kids underperform when I’m a stay-at-home mom? I just desperately wanted him to see something different every time he came home. I needed him to see that I was a homemaker – not a gold digger. In the process, I lost so much of Nompumelelo. I’m now ready to fetch myself from where I left myself.

There isn’t an aspect of divorce that I haven’t considered in my head — from the guilt and shame, to my son’s feelings. On the one hand, my son sees his dad at home but there’s no warmth between his parents. So, what am I teaching him about love? If I stick around, would I be creating a loveless monster for another woman? If I leave, I’d be depriving my son the opportunity to grow up with his father, yet I’ll also be teaching him that if you don’t treat a woman accordingly, she will leave.

My epiphany came to me on our way to our honeymoon. I sat quietly in the plane, trying to unpack what I had just done in my head. It’s no secret. Even if he were to read this, he’d know because we’ve discussed this many times. I’ve never known the honey in the moon. I don’t know what a happy marriage is because I haven’t experienced one. I can tell you, though, what an emotionally taxing marriage is like because I’ve had to dress the part and put up a front for those who glorify my interracial marriage so many times. What most people are unaware of is that interracial marriages aren’t without their hurdles. Before you get to discuss your own issues, you’re already too exhausted by the racial and societal layers, that you never quite get to the crux of the matter.

What’s been mostly heartbreaking for me in my lonely marital journey is how no one cares who I discuss the silly details of my day with, or where I go when I’m aroused. Divorce is an uncomfortable conversation in our culture because it’s viewed as ihlazo. I bet you there’ll be people reading this, saying ‘Why is she airing her dirty laundry?’

Now that I’ve healed from my rape ordeal, I accept that the season for my marriage is over. I’m not trying to be a beacon of hope for other women getting into interracial marriages, nor am I trying to prove my strength by staying in a marriage that has never met my emotional needs. I’m no longer worried about being labelled a golddigger, and I no longer want dysfunction to look attractive from the outside and to sell a pipe dream to young women.”

What most people are unaware of is that interracial marriages aren’t without their hurdles.