Because of the colour of my skin

So my last post was on privilege. This one is on racism. 

We took the teens and their mates camping, choosing a close resort/oord as a quick and easy-access get away. It's quite different to the usual spots, and definitely easier in many ways with lots for the kids to do. Plus, this was the first time we've ever taken mates camping and we went big as they each took 3 mates. We piled everyone into our two cars and it was fabulous. Such amazing human beings!

South Africa and colour - it's real. I had a hmm moment when I looked around and realised that we were the only family of our skin colour at the resort. Interestingly, no black African people at all. But our little teen group was very mixed: one Indian girl, one Chinese, 6 European (two blonde, the rest brown haired). 

I commented to my husband on the second day, and he asked "Does it matter?" And no, it didn't. There were some cultural differences (swimming in full cover suits), language differences (lots of Afrikaans) and the usual people differences (one campsite had a hookah and people piled all over the place). But kids are kids, I loved seeing multi-generational families spending time together and also knowing the sport-mad boys had stuff to do while the girls had naps (I kid you not!).  

Would I go back? No. 

On the morning we left the boys went off to play a round of putt putt. Some teen boys and girls turned up and started mocking my boys. They tossed very racial comments at them: "white privileged kids, give us some money, look can't you even play putt putt properly, buy us some stuff, rich kids, whitie ***, who do you think you are coming here". 

When I arrived the group had gone, but my boys were super subdued and told me what had happened. I was super proud of my boys for not responding back to the group and staying respectful. T told me that his heart was so sad about it and he had to remember that Jesus loves them. L was super mad and said they had boys at school who are like this and that they are the dirt-bag dudes with the same grunge factor. He really wanted to punch them. Since one of our boys was wearing a school branded shirt, they were reminded to hold the reputation of their school high. And they did. 

My heart is sore that these teens, with their cool fade cuts and low slung baggies, are perpetuating racist attitudes. For flip sake. I fought and voted against attitude like this. I work hard every day to use my privilege to serve others and not live with race attitudes and/or false white guilt.

My mommy heart wants to take these brats back to their parents and tell them to deal with their sons and daughters. 

We are 30 years in. How do we ever have a rainbow nation if this continues? 

Trying to find the good stuff in this: learning how it feels to be discriminated against, how to be comfortable in places where you are different, understanding where hate comes from? Blast it. I don't know. 

Privilege

Yesterday I had a difficult conversation with a teen who lamented that friends seem to spend, live, possess so effortlessly. Shopping trips to malls, holidays overseas, new cars, the latest computers, eating out a lot, expensive sports kit and hobbies. I looked around our home and saw all that we have. 

This morning I came across this thought in a notebook I am about to toss in my ongoing efforts to stop holding onto things that just clutter my space:

Privilege = the gift of special favour. 

Every privilege has a 'give-back'. 

If privilege does not give back, then it becomes a "right". If we don't give back, then we become users.

My challenge: Ensuring my privileged kids - and I - don't take what they/we do have as a right, but see all that we have been given as a gift of special favour. I want to raise givers, not users. What can I hang to that privilege so that it's not just a right?

(And no, I am not saying that my teen's friends are users, I am saying that I don't want to ever take what we have for granted. It's natural to want more, but it's good to realise that what we do have is enough.)

My youngest is 15!

Luke turned 15 this morning. I can't quite believe that the tiny bundle we brought home from hospital in his striped onesie is now taller than me, a solid bulk of slim muscle and laughing eyes. Kind, thoughtful, works hard, has great friends (takes one to have lots), humble yet boastful, always hungry for snacks, sometimes thoughtless and trigger-happy and last-word-ish but... oh such a cool kid! 

I love watching my teens become who they are, although there's a part of me that mourns the year that has vanished, while celebrating the milestones and moments and minutae of everyday life.

Fly high, my Luke. Trust in God. Dare. You can do it. Grab life and each moment. 

- 

Sometimes I wonder at the truth of "the moment is now". And "our one and only life". And what I can put in place for "when" so that Jess and Luke know how much I have loved, do love and will always love them. 

These milestone moments are happy-sad. I treasure them!

Looking back at covid

 Just shared this on my Storyteller blog. But here it is again. A glimpse of covid times. How things have changed!

 Day 41 – Friday – Checking in

 

Yesterday I had to do a shop, so I ventured south for the first time in a month. I haven’t been near Tokai since lockdown, so the not-so-empty mall was a new and slightly stressful experience. Queues outside Checkers Hyper which felt like the person behind was breathing down my neck. Queues in Dischem. Walking out into the parking lot was a relief as I navigated my trolley back to the car parked as far as I could so I could walk more. But then the sense of eyes watching me as I pushed a full trolley and unloaded it. Unfriendly eyes. Ugh. Stressful.

 

The neighbour is running our street food distribution so I offloaded some stuff with her and took our bounty home. Cyril was due to speak and actually, I just couldn’t. I hit the wall. Brene Brown says that if you cannot climb it, go around it or go under it, sometimes you just need to build a fort and take a nap. So I did.

 

Today was a 2-hour discussion on education in South Africa using tech and the way forward with experts from around the country. Our primary school is way ahead of the curve and our kids are so fortunate in their schooling. 

 

Fridays are picnic lunch next to the pool, with cats attending and hopeful. 

 

The youngest learnt that if you chat to your friends on Google chat you have to still do school after lunch. It was a traumatic realisation. The firstborn discovered that putting off the subjects you don’t like (and watching animal rescue on YouTube) means you don’t get to play games in the afternoon like your sibling. Also a sad realisation. Behaviour has not yet changed for either. This is a house of cards that will come crashing down. 

 

HH drank his second last beer, I had my 4^th last half glass of wine and we closed off the working week by watching James Bond in Thunderball. We’re working through the list but looks like we have to skip The Spy Who Loved Me as its not age-appropriate. The kids love the spy stuff but my gosh. James Bond was a lecher! And as for the attitude to women and of course, the 60s clothes, smoking, women’s styles with pointy boob bras and men always in suits… it’s been an education of an age thankfully gone by.

 

Day 43 – Checking out

 

I love weekends. I love the slow starts, breakfast, the sense of time that I have. The fact that we try to do no-screen Saturday-Sundays. We packed up some items to pass on to friends, some belated birthday gifts and the shopping bags and I set out to pick up veg which was in short supply earlier in the week and drop off some items (safely, without personal contact of course). 

 

It was insane how busy the shops were. I drove past Spar (queues outside), then the new Emporium (the parking lot was overflowing), so I opted to do the WW at the petrol station. Back past 2 friends, then saw our local shopping centre looked like a normal Saturday which meant I drove on by and chose to stop at the little Indian shop. Bliss – fresh hot samosas straight from the frying pan! HH was enamoured of me as he slowly crunched through. 

 

We lost ourselves in an entire series of Shaun the Sheep last night. Seriously. We laughed until we cried. Aardman is just brilliant!

 

And Sunday? Well, quiet morning with online church, calls with my brother and a bestie, a braai, an afternoon nap and then some Netflix. Oh the ecstasy of my youngest at the reality of braai, pork chops, roosterkoek, marshmallows and, ta da, for teatime, a milk tart!

 

The eldest got a new book and disappeared for 4 hours, emerging blinking myopically and happy. 

 

My weekend highlights?  Phone calls with friends, fewer screens, good books, cats sleeping on the end of the bed. 

 

Sadness for a friend who lost her 93 year old ouma (but thankfully, in her sleep last night without trauma). A giggle at my mom who saw that one of her neighbours was selling masks because she put a sample on her gatepost to let people know  this was where to purchase – mum stopped and tried on the sample then popped it back in the packet because, you know, one should always try before one buys. Concern that the coronavirus deathtoll is 200,000 worldwide. Joy to chat to my brother. Laughter and head slaps at small boys and their need for dangerous toys! Eek at hitting our internet cap tonight. 

 

It’s Freedom Day tomorrow. I wonder how many people will really feel free in our country? I’m guessing that Freedom tomorrow HAS to be something of the heart, not the body. As Mandela demonstrated in his life.

 

I’m reminded of Brave Heart’s final scene where William Wallace is broken and dying. Of the camera that pans to his clenched hand as a final cry of “freeedoommm” is wrenched from his soul and a small blue scrap of his wedding wrap flutters free with his last breath. 

 

America shouts “give me liberty or give me death”. Tonight I think, South Africa, that we, all of us, have the call of “give me liberty or give me freedom”. Perhaps liberty is my right to do. But I think freedom is different. Freedom is my gift to be.