The Sad Tale of the Happy Coconut

I was twelve the first time I ever got
close to punching someone in the throat. I had never felt that much anger and
contempt for another person. The individual was a teacher at my school and she
had called me a coconut. Had it not been for my deep seeded fear I had of my
mother, who was more inclined to violence than I was, myself and this teacher
might have exchanged blows. Coconut. "What a disgusting and dismissive term" I
kept thinking to myself. More disgusting was the general flippancy I received
from my peers and even other teachers. They didn't know why i was so angry...to
be honest I didn't know why I was so angry. However now I
do...its because I am black and only black.
The context was this: my grades were slipping and myself and
several other students where called after class to discuss our dip in grades
(all of us black). After a long speech about how we took no pride in our work
(because we hadn't attached colourful pictures to our projects) we were
dismissed with a stern warning. As I left the classroom the teacher called after
me "Julie, I must say I expected more of you...I've always considered you different
from the others...you know? A coconut." A small part of me died. Fourteen years
later I engage in a conversation with young man who proudly proclaims that he is
a coconut. A little more of me dies.
For those who do not know what a coconut is, it is a black person who
is said to act white. That is, like a coconut, brown on the outside but white on
the inside. I consider this a racial slur. I consider it a slur because, in
order to identify a so called coconut one would have to differentiate between
white behaviour and black behaviour. This also insinuates that a coconut abandons
who they are "brown" to become who they should be "white". So what is this
"white" personality that so many seem to have bottled up inside? Well, according
to my primary school teacher, it is one that does well in school and takes pride
in their work. Clever. Clean. Civilized. Is it not then safe to assume that the
coconut, who is only acting white, is fighting against their natural instinct
which is to be brutish, slow, dirty and uncivilized?
This is what enraged me about my teachers remark, only i did
not have the language to express it at the time. The insinuation that i could not be black, be
smart and take pride in my work at the same time was a profound insult to my
race. it had been assumed that up until that moment i was striving to be white
and a dip in my marks was a sign that i was failing at it; that i was
gravitating to my blackness. It was a jab at my personality, at my pride and at
my intelligence. I was twelve years old and i
had been exposed to my first stereotype; that work ethic was not in a black
person's genetic make up.
So i die a little every time i hear a sad tale of a happy
coconut. To hear that you are an exception to other black people is never good
news. To be exempt, to be different, to be better is not a compliment to you as
a human being but rather an insult your race. There is no white and black behaviour, only assholes and good people. And
a good person, a well spoken person, a smart person, a civilized person is just
that. And suggesting that they are that in spite of who they really are cannot be
interpreted as anything other than a slur.

the lilies

Nab'Ubomi 2010- The Lillies from Victoria Girls High School Grahamstown District

I went to this school. I went to this school and I had a tough time there. The easy route would be to blame the teachers and headmistress but I think the tough time I was having had more to do with my struggle with personal identity.
There was a definite rigidity when it came to what was normal and what was deviant and I reveled in being the latter. But that was just me attempting to figure myself out...I had a friend who knew who she was...or at least knew one part of who she was. She was not shy about it, she was not afraid of what anyone thought of it even though she was often punished for it. Parents of people she befriended would be warned that she was a bad influence and would 'turn' their unsuspecting daughters. Nowadays teens have ware-wolves in our day we had lesbians.

The thing I like about this short film is that it is gentle. It is relevant and it is the point of view of the young women who face and know others who face such struggles of owning ones identity and feelings in the face of ridicule. It also makes me happy to know that my old school has come a long way, allowing their students to express such a delicate point of view whilst proudly wearing the school colours makes it clear that a large amount of growth and tolerance is at play.

A big toast to Lilian Roberts who put together the piece. I trust that this is merely the beginning of what will no doubt be an incredible journey for this young woman.

Kudos VG.

Hate Rape

HATE. Perhaps the word is not used enough? I mean, hate has become a near palpable presence in the day to day living of the average South African. Whether it displays itself in the form of Xenophobia aka hate crimes against foreign nationals or racial incidents aka hate crimes against members of a different race, it seems that we are unable to go through a single day without being faced with ignorance in its purest form...aka hate. But of all the hate crimes (and believe me, there was an assortment to choose from) I have to name corrective rape as the Hate Heavy Weight Champion of the world.

I don’t mean to blame all the problems of the world on men, but there seems to be a correlation between the incline of the empowerment of women and decline of the respect for them. As women begin to embark on a quest for not only professional freedom and independence, but also (dare I say it) sexual freedom, more and more degrading images of women are being portrayed in visual media. Music videos don’t even have story lines anymore, there is merely a naked woman doused in baby oil making her enormous bum cheeks clap, needless to say Sarah Baartman would have had a lucrative career as a video vixen had she been damned to our times. *By the way, I say video vixen as a method of diplomacy, however I believe the correct term is video 'Ho' although I am not sure what the term for a male featured in a music video is.*

We have all had the pleasure of living in a rather patriarchal society; however the rigidity thereof does vary from culture to culture. There are grown women who have never gotten to choose which piece of chicken they would prefer to eat at dinner, but have rather been subjected to the awkwardness that is the chicken wing due to the constant presence of a man in their household. These are small yet subtle submissions that mostly go unnoticed. Who cares? No one is hurt, and the chicken wing is fashionable now, so if anything these women are trend setters right? Wrong!

Here's the thing about choice, it is supposed to be an exclusive right utilized by the individual as THEY see fit. No matter how small. 'No' is a muscle that needs to be exercised otherwise it will shrivel up and die giving way to the default; shrug and nod. How unfortunate most female 'No' muscles are battered into submission at the slightest sign of toning.

The debates of whether individuals choose to be homosexual or not are long and tedious ones which I refuse to engage in. Here is my stance; it doesn’t matter. Even if for some bizarre reason, someone would choose to be homosexual...it is their choice and theirs alone. So why is it that some men take the presence of a lesbian in their community as a personal rejection regardless of whether they know the woman in question or not? I'll tell you why, because how dare she?! How dare she choose another woman over a man? Over the flawless and prefect form of a man that is the ultimate giver of pleasure. "No matter how round and hairy the belly, no matter how exposed the butt crack...this, woman, is where your happiness lies."

The only justification for a woman choosing another woman over a man is; she has either never felt the pleasure of sex with a man or has been unfortunate in finding all the wrong men, but not to despair, a violent rape should be enough to get her playing for the right team. Language itself is problematic, the oxymoronic "corrective rape" should be more accurately called "Hate Rape" or perhaps all rape should be dubbed "Hate Rape" and sub-categorized accordingly for example, Hate Rape against Lesbians or Hate Rape against a minor. This would perhaps even shift the stigma from the victim to the perpetrator.

We as South Africans prefer to think of Hate as a stain in our past, however euphemizing the decaying parts of our society and shouting 'at least there is no civil war and famine!' doesn’t change the facts. Being raped on a full stomach doesn’t change the treachery and it doesn’t change the hate.