This time last year, Genevieve Brown was in a dark place. Her marriage had ended, her career as a police officer was falling apart and she’d recently been diagnosed as bipolar. The stress caused her hair to fall out in large clumps as she spiralled into depression.
While scrolling through channels from her bed, Brown – a member of the Coloured community, a term used to describe people of mixed race heritage in South Africa which does not carry the stigma it has in other parts of the world – happened upon a rugby match.
She’d never identified as a fan of the sport but found herself transfixed. On the screen, in perfect synchronicity, the New Zealand All Blacks were performing the Haka before a match at the World Cup in France.
“I thought, ‘What is this all about?” says the 44-year-old from Mitchells Plain, a large residential area to the south of Cape Town that was developed after tens of thousands of Coloured people were forcefully evicted from their homes around the city. “I was captivated. It was like this spiritual sensation in me. I can’t explain but I felt so moved by what I was witnessing.
“I started to do my research. I learnt about the Maori and Pacific Island people and I fell in love with the culture and their customs. I learned about New Zealand rugby and how they stood against apartheid and why so many Coloured people supported them. From there I started to watch the World Cup. It got me out of my house. I went to pubs to watch the All Blacks and I started talking to people again. I fell in love with Ardie Savea! I can definitely say that the All Blacks helped me turn my life around.”
Without knowing it, Brown had become a member of a small but controversial group of rugby supporters in South Africa. Mostly situated in the Western Cape and belonging to the Coloured community, they’ve been called traitors, sell-outs and worse. They’ve been derided for turning rugby fandom into a political act and have been met with antipathy by Springboks supporters who struggle to understand how any South African could support their great rivals.
A powerful story of change 🥹#Springboks #ForeverGreenForeverGold pic.twitter.com/9OSY5uPipr
— Springboks (@Springboks) September 5, 2024
“That support is rooted in apartheid and what the Springboks emblem meant for people like me and my family,” explains Jeremy Marillier, a 54-year-old consultant and director across multiple companies in the fishing industry. “That history is well known. It explains why Coloured and so-called non-white South Africans might have started supporting the All Blacks. But it doesn’t explain why so many still support the All Blacks today.”
Marillier, who grew up at a time when anyone who looked like him was barred from representing South Africa on the sports field, believes that South African All Blacks supporters are too easily dismissed as being “anti-establishment”. He says “people assume we’re mad or like to cause trouble or only take the less beaten tracks. But that’s not it. There’s more to being an All Blacks supporter than merely trying to rebel against South Africa and the established view.”
In 2018 the South African writer Stephen Coplan argued these fans are both an “anachronism” who “employ a strategy of political provocation developed decades ago to bring apartheid governments down”. But Coplan also suggested they have a “contemporary relevance” given the Springboks’ slow rate of racial transformation in a country that is predominantly black.
That article, written for the online publication Africa is a Country, was published in February that year, four months before Siya Kolisi became the first black Springboks captain at the start of a truly transformative journey. Since then, Bongi Mbonambi and Lukhanyo Am have skippered the side. So too has Salmaan Moerat, who this year became the first Muslim to lead the Springboks on the pitch.
While one cannot ignore the weight of history, nor dismiss the inarguable fact the Springboks emblem was once a totem of white minority rule in a totalitarian state, there has been real change throughout the organisation that now claims to represent all South Africans. Rassie Erasmus has wrapped his rugby project in the flag of the nation. For many supporters, the Springboks are not merely a rugby team but a beacon of South Africa’s potential.
“Firstly, I think all forms of nationalism are dangerous and should be viewed with caution,” says Dylan Moodaley, a 33-year-old environmental consultant and an ardent New Zealand rugby fan. “The support for the All Blacks was passed on from my family but the political associations are more with the older generation. I don’t have that intimate knowledge of the oppression of apartheid. It’s just that the Springboks don’t give me goosebumps. I don’t get that same feeling that some other people might feel.”
Moodaley inherited his love for the silver fern from his father but it was the team’s swashbuckling approach to the game, as well as their dominance, that cemented the bond. He became steeped in New Zealand rugby lore and also began supporting the Crusaders from Christchurch. And even though his links with these sides were not political, nor did he regard his support for them as acts of rebellion, he was all the same painted with the same brush.
A bunch of white fans turned around and started swearing at us. It became racial. We were mostly Coloured supporters and it became very ugly.
“I’ve copped a lot of abuse,” Moodaley explains. “I’ve been lucky enough to watch the All Blacks around the world, including New Zealand, but I no longer wear my jersey in South Africa at games. Not since 2012 [in Soweto]. New Zealand won [32-16] and we were celebrating in a large group. But a bunch of white fans turned around and started swearing at us. It became racial. We were mostly Coloured supporters and it became very ugly.
“Then in 2013 at Newlands, I was wearing a Crusaders shirt for a game against the Stormers and this guy cornered me in the bathroom and started giving me abuse. I swore back and it almost got really ugly. Since then I just don’t engage. It’s that sort of nationalism that I find really distasteful. It’s nationalism that led to fascism in Italy and the Nazis. It’s archaic and we have to be careful around it.”
Links between the Nazis and the Springboks will likely be jarring for many supporters of the green and gold. Especially those who have been swept up by a discourse that has morphed into mythology over the past six years. Two World Cup wins have each garnered blockbuster documentary series that have tugged at heart strings and brought tears to the eyes of even the most stoney-hearted fan.
“I’m proud of guys like Siya, Cheslin [Kolbe], Makazole [Mapimpi] and all the other guys who have overcome terrible situations to represent our country,” says Jade Craig, a 37-year-old project manager from Bloemfontein and a founding member of the Rugby Scoop podcast. “It’s amazing what they’ve achieved and I’m patriotic, so I hate it when people say that I’m not. I love South Africa. That doesn’t mean I have to love the Springboks.”
Craig’s support for the All Blacks started in 1996. While living in Kimberly, he attended a New Zealand training session ahead of the team’s tour match against Griqualand West which would end in a famous 18-18 draw. Craig still has two balls signed by the side as well as a picture of himself with Zinzan Brooke. But his favourite memory is meeting Jonah Lomu, who married his friend’s sister, Tanya Rutter, later that year.
Not that any of these caveats matter to critics. All Blacks supporters in South Africa are branded as Cape Crusaders – in reference to the Christchurch franchise – or sometimes Manenberg Maoris, which is both a racialised dig as well as a nod to a particularly under-resourced suburb predominantly inhabited by Coloured people.
“I hate the term Cape Crusaders,” Moodealey says. “It used to bother me,” Marillier adds, “but I’ve developed a thick skin. I know why I support the team and on Saturday [for the Test against South Africa in Cape Town] I’ll be wearing my jersey, I’ll have my flag and I’ll have my custom made All Blacks shoes! I don’t need anyone’s permission to show my support.”
Perceptions have softened over the years. In 2013 Bryan Habana tweeted his contempt: “If I had the money I would happily buy all these “Cape Crusaders” a one way ticket to Christchurch!!” Erasmus, though, recently poured cold water on the subject when he said South Africans must “respect their view” and acknowledged the “bitterness and heartache that has contributed to some people supporting the All Blacks”.
If I had the money I would happily buy all these “Cape Crusaders” a one way ticket to Christchurch!!#disappointedproudsouthafrican
— Bryan Habana (@BryanHabana) March 30, 2013
On Saturday there will be a large contingent of South Africans wearing black inside Cape Town Stadium. They’ll each have their own reasons for supporting their country’s fiercest rivals. Some carry the pain of generational trauma. Others are simply taken by the aura of a team that still provides the most compelling watch when at their best.
Whatever their reason, their loyalty should not be questioned. Either to the All Blacks or to the country they call home.
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