Changing the direction of the tide by Chaplain Ruth Belonsky

My parents, fleeing Nazi Germany in 1936, found refuge in South Africa, where I was born. As a young woman, I became involved in the struggle against the Apartheid government. My mother’s friends would ask anxiously, “Can’t you ask Ruth to stop doing this?” Even my husband would say, “Can’t you get somebody else to do it?” He believed there should be change, but was afraid for our family’s safety. I was, too, but felt compelled to do what I could to stop the injustice. I don’t think what I did was courageous. I was just driven. I was also terrified.

In September 1977, thirty-year-old Black consciousness activist Stephen Biko was beaten so badly in prison while being “interrogated” that he died a few days later. Donald Woods, a good friend of ours and editor of the local newspaper, informed journalists around the world about what had happened. Donald was banned by the government, and we came under surveillance by the security police. Our phones were bugged. I was followed. Late-night phone calls threatened my life.

We were offered political asylum in the US, but it took eighteen months before we could get our immigration papers.  

In 1981, the Southern Africa Resource Project was founded in Los Angeles, where my family and I now lived. I joined other volunteers going to conferences and universities, sharing information about South African Apartheid. We encouraged educational pension funds to divest from South African companies. According to Wikipedia:

“Besides advocating that institutional investors withdraw any direct investments in South Africa-based companies, anti-apartheid activists also lobbied for the divestment from all U.S.-based companies having South African interests that had not yet adopted the Sullivan Principles… which required… that all employees be treated equally regardless of race and in an integrated environment.”

One of the institutional investors I talked about frequently was Wells Fargo.

My husband, liberal man that he was, thought that the whole idea of highlighting divestment was in vain. “Nothing will come of it,” he would say to me. I wasn’t so sure myself of the efficacy of what we were doing, but once again, I felt compelled to do what I could. Yes, I was just one voice. But it was my voice, and I needed to do whatever I could with it.

The phone rang on a Friday afternoon. “Mrs. Belonsky?” a man said. “I’m calling from Wells Fargo in San Francisco. I understand that you are part of this divestment movement.” I was surprised to receive the call. How on earth did he know about what I was doing? “What would it take,” he asked, “for you to stop urging divestment?”

“It would take,” I replied, as if I was used to getting calls like this every day, “for you to divest.”

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, and rang off. I never heard from him again.

 “It took decades of activism from both inside and outside the country, as well as international economic pressure, to end the regime that allowed the country’s white minority to subjugate its Black majority. This work culminated in the dismantling of apartheid between 1990 and 1994.”— Key Steps that Led to the End of Apartheid

I am reminded of the value of each act. Sitting with my pamphlets at a table at events, hoping that people would stop so I could inform them what was happening in South Africa. Who knew that the work we were doing on divestment would catch fire?

In 2025, many people are trying not only to stem the tide but also to change the direction of the tide. We seldom hear about the simple actions people take every day. If we did, we might be encouraged.  

How did Wells Fargo get my name? I was a music teacher doing what I could. Although we may never know the full impact, something happens when we act. There are consequences for everything we do.

In June of 1966, Senator Robert F. Kennedy gave the “Ripple of Hope” speech at the University of Cape Town to white anti-apartheid students. This speech has inspired me all my life.

“Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation…It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

Even with the darkness enveloping our political system, there is still so much goodness in this country. It is our responsibility now to be those ripples of hope.