boy...girl...person

It is 2012. Futuristic movies of earlier times predicted that, by now, aliens from outer space would have landed on earth and would be living in harmony with humans. Robots and humans would fall in love and have half flesh half titanium babies and the biggest problem we would be facing would be the end of the world. How disappointing that human beings are arguably as rigid and conservative as they were in the past.  We are in fact a bunch of racist homophobes with no immediate plans to change.  Biracial children often have to explain their light skin and ‘black’ hair and anyone who so much as dabbles in same sex relationships must promptly justify their actions to avoid being dubbed as confused. We are nowhere near ready for robot love.

I often marvel at the chasm that lies between our ‘liberal minded’ society and the staunch conservative manner in which we react to homosexuality and everything affiliated thereto.   I went to an all-girl high school where a cocktail of hormones, thirst for attention and curiosity led to what was often called an “outbreak” of lesbian activity. Outbreak…like a disease.  The ‘disease’ spread through the school and caused great concern resulting in interventions and sometimes punishment. I always assumed that this was a reaction to the age of the parties involved; parents and teachers were concerned about the young women and their need to label themselves. The single most hilarious aspect of these interventions was that none of the ‘lesbians’ had actually labelled themselves but were rather categorized by the adults. You either were or you weren’t. Fast forward to this same group of individuals almost ten years later and nothing has changed. You either are or you are not. There is no in between, bisexuality is simply a transitional phase, sexuality itself is a valve; you are either on one side or the other.

 Ladies and gentlemen I present to you the chasm. We are supposedly a society that looks beyond the physical. Race, gender and ugly are not factors which we consider when engaging with other human beings. In this society, it is what is on the inside that counts…is that not what Barney the dinosaur taught us? If so, then why is it that a woman has to explain her feelings for another woman? Why is it that a man must be able to pin point when and where he began having feelings for another man? And once one has engaged in this same sex relationship, why must they be damned to committing to members of the same sex for all eternity?

Is it even possible for a person who appreciates and loves life and human connections to guarantee that they will never engage in a same sex relationship because they are ‘not that way inclined’? People obsess over the sexuality of free thinkers such as Lord Byron and Shakespeare, because they are said to have been ‘dabblers’ however I do not find it surprising at all. How do we justify an individual being free and audacious in their thinking and then rigid in their emotions?

If one claims to see beyond the physical, then they should never be cross examined about who they choose to be with and in turn can never say ‘never’.  In the words of Chris Rock “No normal decent person is one thing.” And we are all a bunch of hypocritical douche bags for expecting that.

We are in the business of breeding hope. When someone opens up your heart and mind, they open up your life. They do away with the 24hour segments and bless you with a succession of possibilities. Tomorrow stops being an excuse but is instead heavily pregnant with promise and beauty...ready to birth your dreams. We are in the business of breeding the kind of hope that stubbornly stains self doubt. That, even in the depths of depression, hovers relentlessly...patiently waiting for you to rise from you self flagellating slumber. It is there, and you know it is there, and to know it is to believe it. So wake up. Wear your hope on top of your fear, let it shield you from the cold world. It is hard to feel sorry for someone who is frozen motionless by the coldness of the world and the chill of their fear when THEY failed to arm themselves with hope.

Naked

"I wore nothing but my vulnerability when I gave myself to you. When you touched me, you healed it. Now I wear my you-scented-heart"

Mos Def - Travellin' Man (Video and Lyrics)

Jill Scott- The Thickness

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.