As a judge of 25 years, and an out-and-proud gay man living with HIV, Justice Edwin Cameron knows stigma. Few have as acute an understanding of liberation in a democratic South Africa, and fewer still have seen the weight of living without it. Through his legal work and activism, Cameron has had a powerful hand in stitching together the fabric of present-day South African society. A great debt is owed to him, one that may begin to be repaid by knowing him. Meet Justice Edwin Cameron.
“Well, I came from a fractured family, so my two sisters and I ended up in a children’s home just before I turned seven,” says Justice Edwin Cameron, former Constitutional Court judge, of his formative years. The Justice speaks with a surprising affinity for the personal, as he describes the tragic death of his eldest sister, who passed away at the end of the same year the three siblings began living in the home. “That really left a very deep impression on my whole being for many years. I only, as an adult, came to terms with grieving for her many years [later] when I was in my 40s.”
Cameron’s childhood was marked by poverty and the imprisonment of his father for car theft. But his educational trajectory would soon set him on a different course. “And then I got entry to Pretoria Boys High School […] and then from [there] I went to Stellenbosch, I got the Rhodes Scholarship, I went to Oxford. And it struck me that all of these opportunities were whites only.”
Cameron received the Rhodes Scholarship in 1975, an honour that a black South African had not been the recipient of at that point. He notes, with encyclopaedic knowledge, that Loyiso Nongxa was the first in 1978. “So, what has formed the political and emotional imperatives – and I mix the two in my life – were my poverty, my whiteness, a sense of racial privilege, and how that gave me opportunities which were denied other people. And then my homosexuality.”
Cameron currently serves as the prisons inspector for South Africa. His primary concerns are violence and overcrowding in prisons, the parole system, facilities repairs and the financial accessibility of bail. ILLUSTRATION: Giuseppe Rajkumar Guerandi
He describes feeling “deeply ashamed” and “self-hating” at the time of realising his sexuality, and only came to terms with it when he came out as a gay man at the end of 1982.
“Having turned 30, come out as proudly gay, resolving never again to apologize for it, I contracted HIV at the worst time of anti-gay stigma and prejudice and [international] terror about HIV,” explains Cameron.
“So those are the political and personal factors that have impelled my life – a life which has been enriched by many things,” he says, with a quiet eloquence.
Activism and a Constitutional world-first
“His time on the bench at the High Court, Supreme Court of Appeal and Constitutional Court was characterised by brilliant legal thinking, but more importantly kindness and compassion in the way he applied the law,” says Sohela Surajpal, a masters of law graduate currently clerking at the Constitutional Court.
During the apartheid era, Cameron provided legal defence to individuals involved in the liberation struggle. He has also fought for the rights of mine workers, victims of forced removals, queer people and persons with HIV/AIDS, according to the Constitutional Court of South Africa’s archives.
“You can’t separate me personally from the office I held, but at the time I came out as living with HIV, I was a high court judge,” says Cameron. “So, I was the judge who had AIDS, and my prominent public position enabled my advocacy about medication, treatment, anti-stigma, anti-discrimination, and lack of shame.”
Cameron is also lauded for his lobbying efforts to include ‘sexual orientation’ in the constitutional protections of the new South Africa.
“We did get push back, but it was an exciting time because we had a sense of potentiality,” recalls Cameron. “I didn’t think it would happen, but we were going to pitch for it as hard as possible.”
He traverses his career with humility. “We managed to persuade the constitutional negotiators to do two things: To make it a broad […] definition of unfair discrimination, and secondly, to include those two historic words – sexual orientation – in it,” he says.
The Justice broaches the question of his greatest achievement with a modesty that seems at odds with a legal juggernaut. “As a queer person, and as someone living with HIV, I’ve experienced intense stigma. So, I would probably say that my biggest public contribution has been in fighting AIDS stigma.”
Cameron credits Simon Nkoli for making it possible to include ‘sexual orientation’ in the constitutional protections of South Africa. ILLUSTRATION: Giuseppe Rajkumar Guerandi
Queerphobia and Social Justice
Cameron’s personal journey of living openly in his queerness was characterised by subtle defiance to the status quo. “I didn’t come out with a bang, but I was absolutely unequivocal,” says Cameron. “I definitely had a sense that it could impact on my career.”
He provides anecdotes such as an event “where all the legal luminaries of Johannesburg were present”, and he attended with his partner in an act of “early coming out”. Or the first judges dinner in 1995, when he attended with his partner despite being ‘advised’ not to.
Reflecting on the intersection of his identity and career, Cameron makes astute observations. “I think part of what we deal with as gay people or as women or as black people, is that we have to prove ourselves every day,” he remarks. “We have to show ‘I’m the queer judge who can write good judgments’, ‘I’m the judge with AIDS who can work very hard’.”
But what is the broader queer experience?
“It’s not been a uniformly negative record in South Africa,” says Cameron. He recognises, however, that South Africa has not been a “champion” of queer rights either. “I think it’s continuing ignorance and homophobia,” he observes. “We still have to educate governmental officials, diplomats at all levels, but we’ve made progress.”
Speaking more broadly, Cameron makes an argument on the global state of queerness. “Every coming out, for so long as there’s any stigma or oppression or legislative discrimination anywhere in the world, is an intensely political act, but also an act of personal courage.”
Life and work for the Justice today
So, what does life after a career as storied as this entail? For Cameron, it continues. “My average day starts with tea and oats with my partner [Nhlanhla Mnisi]. I make the oats, he makes the tea,” says Cameron.
Covid-19 has impacted the Justice’s life, both professionally and personally. In addition to his work as the country’s prisons inspector being handicapped by the pandemic, Cameron was recently ill with Covid. “Having had AIDS, there are greater risks. I think that’s why I was so severely ill with Covid,” says Cameron, later noting that his survival is partly due to his socio-economic privilege.
In his capacity as chancellor of Stellenbosch University, Cameron emphasises his availability to the student community outside of the ceremonial duties of the role. But does the Justice miss the courtroom?
“I’m very grateful to no longer be a judge,” he says through a chuckle. “I did that for 25 years. I’m really happy not to be deciding cases anymore.”
Cameron has authored multiple books over the years, and hopes to write another one, this time of advocacy regarding prisons and the immorality of the South African penal system.
“I’m 68. I never thought I’d be 68. You know, here I am. It’s wonderful!” he says earnestly. “The fact that I was able to speak out may, in the end, prove to be my most important public contribution, but I’d also like to be remembered as a judge, a Chancellor or as a gay man.”
Cameron chatted to MatieMedia about his legal career, living openly as a gay man with HIV, and life after being a judge for 25 years. PHOTO: Giuseppe Rajkumar Guerandi