Two newspaper articles caught my eye the last couple of months. In the first, leftie photo-journalist Paul Alberts tells of the unanticipated and disturbing rapport between him and Eugene Terre'Blanche (aka ET). After doing a week-in-the-life-of photo essay of ET, Alberts confesses: 'Ek verskil van die AWB's soos dag en nag--politiek, godsdiens, alles--maar dis my mense. Dit was 'n tuiskoms. Daar 't ek besef ek's oneerlik met myself om my 'n Afrikaanssprekende Suid-Afrikaner te noem. Ek's 'n Afrikaner, en basta met die res' (Retief 2009). (1) In the second piece, Deon Maas (2010) stands up for the right of his children to attend an Afrikaans university. According to Maas, the only problem with making this argument, is that by defending this right be is associating himself with a group of people with whom be has nothing in common: 'Ouens wat oulike kakiehempies dra wat 'n ander kleur hier op die sleutelbeen het' en luister na 'Kurt, Steve of Juanita'. 'Ouens wat Afrikaans as 'n (rassistiese) politieke statement sien eerder as 'n medium van kommunikasie' (Maas 2010). (2) Read together, these seemingly contradicting points of view correspond, to a certain degree, with my conflicted feelings towards boeremusiek and, by implication, to that marked collective, 'Afrikaner'. This is, however, not the epiphanous story of my journey into Afrikanerdom; nor is it a politically correct vilification of Afrikaner whiteness. Rather, I'd like to explore in this essay, how the embarrassments of crossing over between these two hegemonies are influencing my research decisions, and some of the good and the bad that have come from it. Both Alberts and Maas are describing a self/other relationship that has evolved beyond recognition from the easy dichotomies of modern thinking. In the last few decades, it has become fashionable to theorise this relationship as one of hybridity, where the Self and the Other are in a relationship of close proximity, sometimes quite literally sharing the same blood, yet remaining fundamentally incommensurable. The space between Self and Other thus belongs to both at the same time and, yet, exclusively to neither. The problem with any kind of ethnomusicological study, like mine on boeremusiek, is that as a discipline, ethnomusicology relies ata very basic level on the modern distinction between a radically different researcher and native. This is probably why embarrassment does not usually feature in ethnomusicological writing. Embarrassment requires an empathic relationship between Self and Other. Psychologists Robbins and Parlavecchio (2006: 325-326) write: The self-reflexivity of embarrassment may involve a kind of proto-self that understands itself through an empathic, imaginative projection of one's self through the other ... To be ashamed ... is to have one's existence reduced to the object of another person's evaluative gaze. Beyond that, the experience of shame requires the shamed person to have the capacity to project him- or herself into the position of the observing other. To the extent that one is capable of putting oneself into the perspective of the other, one is therefore capable of also having a reflexive relationship toward one's own self as an object subject to evaluation. From this description, it is reasonable to contend that embarrassment can function as an unexpectedly enriching component--even a driving force--for research. This 'unwanted exposure of the self', as one definition of embarrassment goes, is evident from a recent exchange with one of my Facebook friends: [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] After joining the group I quickly looked into ways of hiding the fact from my Facebook friends, but, even though I knew this status update would cause me embarrassment, I decided to let it remain on my wall. I can think of at least two distinct but related reasons why I would feel embarrassed about my boeremusiek status update. …