Sex-o-phobia

I'm scared of teenagers. Not because of their long arms and their greasy hair. Hell, not even their strange sms language is the source of my fear...no. I fear them because i believe that if one thinks about or wishes for something to happen for long enough; it probably will, and after conducting some self-funded research, i came to discover that the average teenager will wish that "Everyone would just shut up and die" at least three times a day. I would even go so far as to say that recent floods, droughts and glacial melting are 50% global warming and 50% wishful thinking from modern day teens. There are many contributing factors to this way of thinking; immaturity, hormones and inability to see the bigger picture...but I’m going to go ahead and side with the kids on this one and blame old people and sex.

The relationship that South African's past the age of 35 have with sex is much like a gremlin, it’s all warm and fuzzy in the light of day but don’t dare feed it after midnight or it will show you a side to itself that will scar you for life. I am generalizing, i realize, and so completely understand those who have set this article aside because "it has nothing to do with them". Having said that, allow me to share an example that may help sharpen my point before you dismiss me completely. Many (black and female) acquaintances of mine have recently gotten married, most (if not all) of them mentioned that the night before their wedding was the first time that anyone in their families had spoken to them about sex. Really? In a time of porn and hip hop, everyone is willing to risk holding off the "sex talk" until the eve of one’s wedding?

Young South Africans (but young South African girls especially) find themselves being passed a baton of silence when it comes to sex as if it is some dirty little secret that is only shared under duress. For most young women, entering into their teen years is much like finding a black cat in a dark room; you pretty much have to feel your way through it. Sex education comes in strange bursts; reproductive cycle, condoms and AIDS at school; and accusations of being preoccupied with boys at home.

Sex becomes either something people that love each other do, or something that whores do...and apparently there is nothing in between. Homosexuality of course is something that was born in the 80's and is blamed either on Somizi Mhlongo or English but does not come about without some form of influence; Gay teens are softies and Lesbian teens are going through a phase...Am i the only one who objects to this blatant flippancy towards important subject matter, during a stage that could be considered to be the most impressionable since the first five years of the human life?

Rather than risk the discomfort of a frank, concise but honest conversation with their teens, most parents will either shame their teens for even thinking about sex in the first place or scare them out of sex with child-birth videos and pictures of dying AIDS patients. Yes, teenage pregnancy has brought many an adolescent life to a screeching halt and yes, AIDS is a serious disease that has our country by the throat, but facts with no conversation are hardly effective. Shouting AIDS at the top of one’s lungs at the first mention of sex is much like showing someone pictures of mangled bodies at an accident site at the first mention of them wanting to learn to drive; it screams phobia. Dare i say that South Africans are suffering from Sex-o-phobia?

Whose responsibility is it to tell young women and men that their bodies are not up for negotiation? That objectification is by no means a compliment; that other than food and water, sex is one of the only other things that your body can crave without having had it before? That sex feels good...but there is no such thing as making love...love usually comes first. If not the parents, who? Surely parents owe honesty, at the very least, to their children. No agendas, no fears...just preparation.

I am hardly an expert, i mean i just recently shed the last traces of residue left by my teen years...but it is for that reason i am able to empathize. It is a difficult time. It is a time when everyone is demanding that you identify yourself when you really are not ready to. It is an unstable, ever changing time. It is a time when everyone seems to be talking but no one seems to be saying anything, so it is no wonder they want us all to shut up and die...it’s not like we are speaking to them anyway.

The seX factor

I look at this woman and I can't help but wonder. We live in a society that hardly accepts those of us who are considered normal. Our teen years are riddled with all sorts of cries for attention and approval from...everyone. The world in general has a warped relationship with sex and all things related. Parents would much rather have their children witness a beheading than have them witness a couple have sexual relations. So I...marvel at this woman, Lea T, and I wonder how tormented she must have been before she decide that enough was enough...that she would succumb to her femininity and leave the shell of masculinity that she was born with.

I am vexed at the 'boxed in' mentality that we as a society are so comfortable with. This is this and that is that and there is nothing in between. One only has to reflect back to the Caster Simenya debacle to see how uncomfortable we are with the idea that there may be more to life than what we thought. But I can understand...in fact I can almost sympathise with the idea of growing up with a certain ideal deeply intrenched in you and struggling to come to terms with the fact that the ideal may be up for debate. What I cannot and will not understand is our lack of empathy. We all know what it is to be a teenager. We are all fully aware of the amount of confusion and hightened emotion that comes with the dawning of each day. Teenagers are a bunch of tortured souls that will jump off the highest building at the slightest provocation...knowing that, how is it that we are unable to empathise with those who are faced with feelings that may be interpreted as abnormal?

For most teenagers the yearning for approval trumps every other feeling, all you have to do is look at the amount of teens that find themselves scribbling down a cellphone number quoted on a "Pain free abortion" poster. From childhood most are taught that the opinions of others matter more than their own. I don't know that parents know that when they "what will people say?" everytime their child does something out of order, they are setting their child up for major disappointment because; that child may end up trying to impress "people" at their detriment only to find out that "people" don't give a rats ass. Yes they will judge you and ridecule you...but then tomorrow they will find another freak to laugh at.

So this is basically a salute to Lea T who was honest with herself and others. I don't know what it is to feel displaced to the point of physical discomfort. I cannot begin to imaging how restless one must feel when they open their eyes in the morning and know that they are going to spend the next 12 hours lying to everyone they meet...I can only say that I respect those who understand that they are the ones who have to live with themselves.

(wo)man

Being a woman is tough. Not because of childbirth and the intricacy of applying mascara but because everyone (including other women) seems to hate you. I realise that this is a bold and generalised statement but not entirely unfounded or at least not in my opinion. The rape and domestic violence statistics speak volumes about how a certain amount of men feel about women, and then the fact that a woman will snatch another woman’s eyeballs out over a man says all there is to be said about the so called sisterhood. Women seem to be on the bottom of everyone’s list and nobody seems to know how they got there.

Frank discussions with female friends of mine have resulted in men being related to every being in the animal kingdom. Sentences are punctuated with hand gestures and are drenched with onomatopoeic slurs as women relate their nightmarish encounters with men they dub inconsiderate, selfish and ignorant. However, at the end of all the ranting and cursing…the cliché “boys will be boys” still prevails. Now I could take on the stereotypical feminist standpoint and throw my hands up in disgust at the way that men treat woman but that would be too easy. I’d rather point out the fact that we as a society have taught women how to treat men and in so doing cultivated the way men treat women. We worship men from birth. It is a sad truth that is apparently here to stay. I was naive enough to assume that women my age were enlightened enough to know that there really isn’t anything that superior about a man. So, imagine my horror when a woman my age with all her education and English said she would rather have sons because “girls are whores”.

We insist on making all sorts of excuses on behalf of the handful of men who treat women like rubbish and in so doing detract from those men who hold women in a high regard. We, as women, account all inappropriate behaviour displayed by men to them being men. I mean surely even men are insulted at the notion of them having absolutely no control over their penises (so much so that they urinate and scratch in public because apparently; once the penis has spoken...it has spoken).

We are living in a society where young gay men are being beaten to death for not being man enough. Lesbian teens are being raped to “cure” them of their “disease” because God forbid anyone says no to a penis. Women are married to men who have illegitimate children sprinkled all over South Africa and dare not stand their ground against the man of the house. Really? In a time when HIV/AIDS has our country in a choke hold, women are still allowing themselves to be subjected to repeated infidelity and physical abuse. In a time of female rights and feminist action there are still very few people who believe that there is such a thing as a husband raping his wife. In 2011 we are still making excuses for rapists…really? Now, I know the darkness that surrounds abusive relationships so I sympathize, however what frustrates me is how blazè most communities are when it comes to these situations. This “men are men” attitude is a load of rubbish.

According to (black) women the options are as follows: if you find a man you love you can either a) accept that he is going to cheat on you and ask that he has the courtesy to cover his tracks or b) leave every man that cheats on you and land up having slept with every man alive. We have been robbed of our confidence. We as women are not confident enough to expect any respect out of our relationships. All we expect is to be cheated on and beat on and if we aren’t we just assume that the man involved is some sort of master of deception. Women weaken themselves in the shadow of men, we women who start and end wars.

I find myself wallowing in a pool of disappointment when it comes to women’s willingness to shy away from the glory that is rightfully theirs. When a woman is confident in herself and does not depend on the opinion of another, whether they be male or female, I believe she flourishes in ways that far surpass anything she could have imagined for herself.

Now I am not a bra burning feminist, I am even honest enough to admit that in the modern world; I do not really know what true feminism is. What I do know that I am stubborn and I wish that a few of my sisters would be a little more stubborn with me. I wont try and do every little thing a man does…but I will never let a man tell me what I CANNOT do.

BLue Valentine

If you have ever gotten to a point in a relationship where you literally cannot do it any more...this is a movie you would relate to. It allows you to watch a relationship disintergrate to a point of resentment.

Ryan Gosling delivers as per usual with his delicate yet honest depiction of his character and Michelle Williams shows massive growth as transcends *in our minds* into a mature actress who owns her character and all its ugly emotions...loved this movie and i think anyone who has had to give up on what they THOUGHT was love will too...

Sexual Chocolate

i dont know what it is about a dark skinned brother...but everybody loves them. i mean everybody! Sisters line up and scratch one anothers eyes out in the street over them. White women get all stealthy and land up on Ricki Lake using words they do not fully understand over them. Something about them...well i think it is a vaiety of things, not least of which is the perception that they are animalistic. These guys get away with sooo much! because they are "rough and real and they dont know how else to act" i mean the way people carry on one would think that the conversation is about a tamed animal.

Now i dont know what connotations you get when you think of a dark skinned, toned brother...but the picture i chose says it all. No one expects to be picked up, thrown over the shoulder of or carried into the mist by a light skinned brother...we dont think you're weak or anything we just assume you will be driving something. This raises a question...what is it about us that makes us think that a dark skinned person is just a little more in touch with thier roots? And further more...these roots that we reffer to...why are they so sexual and crazy and chest bashing.

...we are a confused nationality...and this is why the chinese are winning...

The black in me...

I'm struggling. I have found that I am offended by comments made but some public figures and for some reason that makes me petty. Steve Hofmeyer pulled the Kaffir card and i suppose my blogging about it makes me an accessory to his rubbish but it bothers me.

People have told me repeatedly that it doesn't matter. "who cares?" they say "Its Steve fucking Hofmeyer" but think about this: if you walk into a room and someone you don't know and don't particularly care for is telling their friends how incredibly lame and insignificant you are...would you be less offended just because you dont know them or their friends?

My boss asked: "So what if he is racist? Isn't that his right?" and I don't know the answer to that. All I know is that when someone says Kaffir, I know where the word is coming from, and it bothers me that there are people walking around with that kind of darkness...still...in 2011.

Some white people say: "disarm the word, all it means is Athiest" but i am afraid it is not that simple. So I'm sorry, but the black in me...the part of me that listened to Horror stories told by my parents and grandparents told of being rediculed and abused. The part of me that listens quietly and bites my tongue when I am told that I speak so well for a black. The part of me that revel in my achievements because I know i worked hard and they weren't handed to me on account of my past...that part of me is unable to accept that someone can use the word Kaffir to prove a point.

As black people, we are taught from birth to be humble and graceful and Mr Nelson Mandela made sure that we stayed true to those teachings. WE FORGAVE. So it is not fair that that word is thrown in our faces when someone is looking for attention.

The Colour-Bar

I’d like to kick start this article by stating for the record that I am not racist. Some of my favourite people are white or of white descent. I am able to watch and enjoy British Comedy and sometimes even bellow with laughter. Having said that, I feel that it is my civic duty to ask “What the hell is going on?!”

The year was 2005, I was enjoying a cigarette with a friend and a young man who we didn’t know but who had asked to share our cigarette. As we engaged in student small talk a young, white woman, about our age, came walking past. From her frazzled hair and the untrimmed toenails on her filthy bare feet, one would have assumed (as I did) that she was homeless, or on drugs, or both. As we quietly shifted in the pungent odour which followed her, the young stranger we were with took a puff of his/our cigarette and chuckled “Don’t do drugs kids”, the three of us shared a good laugh and just as I was about to make a mental note of his wit and comical timing he sighed “Well at least she’s white so I would do her”. The rest of the conversation is a blur though I do remember a lot of profanity and hand gestures from my friend and myself. This could be considered one idiots opinion in the land of milk and honey, however the reason that this incident bothered me so much is because of the sheer honesty of it!

Five years later I found this scene to be on repeat in my mind for some or other reason. So I conducted some self funded research. I asked ten young men to describe what their ideal woman looks like. The words “light, petite” and “long, straight hair” were thrown around. I assumed they were describing a woman of Chinese descent when the phrase “fat ass” kept popping up. I realised they were describing a white black woman. These gentlemen could not stress the “Light” feature enough. Some even went so far as to use the word yellow. REALLY?! Has the scar tissue of the Apartheid regime managed to infiltrate even the youngest of our generations? Have we been so heavily indoctrinated that we wonder the streets with a mental colour bar against which we measure the worthiness/desirability of our, dare I say it, brothers and sisters?

Now, I’m a child of the 80’s so you can’t tell me squat. I was born in the height of Apartheid, I grew up during its down fall and I became conscious at a time when the name of the game was “who can make the most heart wrenching post Apartheid movie”. So I am tired...no, exhausted by the subject and that is why I am so incredibly annoyed. I am annoyed by the national state of post traumatic stress that blankets my people and is conveniently ignored. I am annoyed at the “Yes baas” mentality that still seems to haunt our every day lives. And I am especially annoyed at the possibility that all those episodes of Molo Fish and repeats of Sarafina could turn out to have been for nothing! The black South African population could be compared to a kidnapped child who never underwent any type of counselling after being emancipated from his/her captor. Now it would seem that this child, though still fearful of their captor, has become some what obsessed with their captor; trying to impress their captor and even mimicking their captor in an attempt to feel closer to their captor. We, as black South Africans, are suffering from Stockholm syndrome!

I have wondered this earth for the past quarter century as a very dark skinned child, and it is as a direct result of the darkness of my skin that I have often gotten the short end of the racial stick. I have been called tar baby, coal train, black bird, N***er ball and all sorts of other horrible names, but not by white people, by “my people”. So understandably I have been angry at my people for most of my adult life because I failed to understand why I was made to feel ashamed of being dark. But now I sympathise with my people, but only the older portion of them. Those older generations who call darker children ugly because they are trying to prepare them for what they think white people will call them later on in their lives. I can almost understand their “tough love” approach and I am even willing to cast them away onto the “lost cause” island. When it comes to people my age and below, however, I do not have to sympathise nor do I have any understanding. I call you “Good Blacks”. "What is a Good Black?” I hear you ask. Allow me to elaborate:

Before I begin to define this phrase, allow me to explain that I understand our story. Us, who were thrust into white society and directed by our parents to mimick accents, and gestures. Us, who were made to “say something in English” to impress our aunts and uncles and pretty much make anyone who couldn’t speak English feel like crap. Us who, as a result of the above, speak to one another in English, think in English, write in English and even talk dirty in English. I understand. We are victims of our past blah blah. What I don’t understand is those who choose to act like there is something wrong with being from elokshini (townships) or even ezilalini (rural areas). Those black people who are the first to jump up and point out mispronunciation of a word by their fellow black brother/sister, or look down on those who have struggled and were not blessed with the same opportunities. OR say they would sleep with a homeless person because they are white and that makes them…what? Superior? Those are your good blacks: Trying to impress their captor unawares of the fact that no one cares anymore.

We can blame our parents up until we are about 19 years old. Then the excuses stop. We are the masters of our own destinies. We are all very aware of the fact that not everything our parents teach us sticks. Some of us where taught to be Methodists from birth but still manage to come out Buddhists. Now I am not saying that we should all go out and peruse the set of Muvhango, find the darkest person on set and marry them…no. I am just saying we should look at our values. Look at our core and perception of beauty and intelligence and question its basis.

We didn’t escape one racist regime to be boxed into another one.