Those seven words, spoken by a frightened little boy in a modest South African home, cut deeper than any slur hurled on the street. His father, a Congolese national married to a South African woman, says the question came after the child overheard neighbours and classmates talking about foreigners being chased out of communities.

For years, the man has tried to keep his family insulated from the ugliest side of public discourse. He works legally, pays taxes, and is active in his local church. His wife is South African, his children were born in the country, and their lives are woven into the fabric of the neighbourhood. Yet, in the eyes of some, he remains an outsider who should “go back where he came from.”

He recalls walking his son home from school when the boy, usually chatty, fell silent. Later that evening, the child finally spoke.

Dad, are you also leaving us? They say foreigners must go. Are they coming for you?

The father describes the moment as a breaking point. He had endured insults in taxi queues, suspicious stares at the shops, and muttered threats when community tensions flared. But hearing fear in his son’s voice forced him to confront the human cost of xenophobia in a way statistics and slogans never could.

He decided to speak out, addressing those who target foreign nationals while claiming to defend local interests. He points out that he is not a rival to South Africans, but a partner: married into a South African family, raising South African children, contributing to the local economy, and sharing the same daily struggles as his neighbours.

When you say foreigners must leave, he asks, who exactly are you talking about? My wife? My children? The nurse from Zimbabwe who treated you at the clinic? The Malawian mechanic who fixed your car? The Mozambican woman who cares for your elderly parent?

He urges people to see beyond passports and accents, to recognise that families like his are not temporary visitors but part of the country’s social fabric. Xenophobia, he warns, does not only threaten migrants; it tears apart mixed families, traumatises children, and normalises violence as a way to solve economic frustration.

My son should worry about his homework, not whether his father will be hunted for being born on the wrong side of a border, he says. If we allow that fear to grow, we all lose a piece of our humanity.