Successful Black

This post is inspired by the last few tweets I just posted...

Am I the only one who feels that media still pushes the successful, straight-haired black female image down our throats on the daily?

Which were, in turn, inspired by the daily rubbish that's on mainstream media day in and day out!
I fail to understand why Black beauty has been boxed in to fit a certain look. I don't know why the less African you look, the more successful you are perceived to be.

Why is it that the Black woman with the dreadlocks is always depicted as a "naturalist" a "free spirit"? Possible job title = Artist/Freelancer/Self-empoyed. Why?
Why can't a successful black person have dreads and be a successful CEO of some big corporate?

Why must success be linked to looking more European and less Afrikan? Why?

Are dreadlocks and the overall Afrikan look considered untidy? If so why? Is walking around with hair that isn't yours considered more cleaner than my own Afrikan hair? Why though?

That doesn't make sense to me.

Why must the young successful Black female have plastic/fake hair to be taken seriously? Am I the only one who sees flaw n this logic? How is it that plastic hair trumps real hair in the boardroom?
Shouldn't it be the other way round?

If a white person walked into a boardroom full of execs wearing fake black hair, would he/she be taken seriously or laughed at? Would a white person even think of doing something like that? If not, then why must we continue to mold and reshape ourselves to fit what they consider appropriate or acceptable? Why can't our "acceptable" be our acceptable and their acceptable be just that for them?

I hate the fact that we've sidelined our own Afrikan-ness in exchange for what is acceptable by the white race. In fact, I don't think they have so much power over us that they can dictate what is right or wrong when it comes to our appearance. We are imposing these beliefs on ourselves. Actually, no, scratch that. They are imposing these looks on us. They are the ones heading the advertising industry, they are the ones responsible for what we see on our TV screens every day. They dictate what is acceptable and what isn't.
Damn, can't believe I almost fell for that – "it's not them, it's us" shit.
Although at the end of the day us ans individuals are responsible for how we want the world to view us... we really don't have much to refer to. All we are surrounded by are images of success through the eyes of the oppressor. Why can't we have more pro-black success figures instead of what are, in jest, black-painted white ideals?


I'll tell you why, because Blackness is seen as a once off thing. Not an every day occurrence. We are not used to being Black all the time. Not used to being Afrikan all the time. We are given a day, a month every year, where we can be all the Afrikan we want. As long as we go back to what has been set as the default Blackness at the end of it all. Long as we go back to what fist the predefined mold of what a Black Afrikan is supposed to look like so as to keep the white man at ease. Lord knows no one should make the white man uncomfortable in his  world. Stay in your lane. Stay the way they've decided you should look/feel/be.

We need more images of "Black excellence" than the ones we see on the catwalks of successful fashion lines that have that one token Blackie to appease the Blacks. Images that define Black Excellence in what it really is – Black + Excellence. Not the Black nation being successful within the confines of white borders. ... "you can't look a certain way ALL THE TIME" "your version of beauty is doesn't fit my environment"

I'm done. I can go on for hours on this topic...
*sigh*

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I am an African

On an occasion such as this, we should, perhaps, start from the beginning.

So, let me begin.

I am an African.

I owe my being to the hills and the valleys, the mountains and the glades, the rivers, the deserts, the trees, the flowers, the seas and the ever-changing seasons that define the face of our native land.

My body has frozen in our frosts and in our latter day snows. It has thawed in the warmth of our sunshine and melted in the heat of the midday sun. The crack and the rumble of the summer thunders, lashed by startling lightening, have been a cause both of trembling and of hope.

The fragrances of nature have been as pleasant to us as the sight of the wild blooms of the citizens of the veld.

The dramatic shapes of the Drakensberg, the soil-coloured waters of the Lekoa, iGqili noThukela, and the sands of the Kgalagadi, have all been panels of the set on the natural stage on which we act out the foolish deeds of the theatre of our day.

At times, and in fear, I have wondered whether I should concede equal citizenship of our country to the leopard and the lion, the elephant and the springbok, the hyena, the black mamba and the pestilential mosquito.

A human presence among all these, a feature on the face of our native land thus defined, I know that none dare challenge me when I say - I am an African!

I owe my being to the Khoi and the San whose desolate souls haunt the great expanses of the beautiful Cape - they who fell victim to the most merciless genocide our native land has ever seen, they who were the first to lose their lives in the struggle to defend our freedom and dependence and they who, as a people, perished in the result.

Today, as a country, we keep an audible silence about these ancestors of the generations that live, fearful to admit the horror of a former deed, seeking to obliterate from our memories a cruel occurrence which, in its remembering, should teach us not and never to be inhuman again.
I am formed of the migrants who left Europe to find a new home on our native land. Whatever their own actions, they remain still, part of me.

In my veins courses the blood of the Malay slaves who came from the East. Their proud dignity informs my bearing, their culture a part of my essence. The stripes they bore on their bodies from the lash of the slave master are a reminder embossed on my consciousness of what should not be done.

I am the grandchild of the warrior men and women that Hintsa and Sekhukhune led, the patriots that Cetshwayo and Mphephu took to battle, the soldiers Moshoeshoe and Ngungunyane taught never to dishonour the cause of freedom.

My mind and my knowledge of myself is formed by the victories that are the jewels in our African crown, the victories we earned from Isandhlwana to Khartoum, as Ethiopians and as the Ashanti of Ghana, as the Berbers of the desert.

I am the grandchild who lays fresh flowers on the Boer graves at St Helena and the Bahamas, who sees in the mind's eye and suffers the suffering of a simple peasant folk, death, concentration camps, destroyed homesteads, a dream in ruins.

I am the child of Nongqause. I am he who made it possible to trade in the world markets in diamonds, in gold, in the same food for which my stomach yearns.

I come of those who were transported from India and China, whose being resided in the fact, solely, that they were able to provide physical labour, who taught me that we could both be at home and be foreign, who taught me that human existence itself demanded that freedom was a necessary condition for that human existence.

Being part of all these people, and in the knowledge that none dare contest that assertion, I shall claim that - I am an African.

I have seen our country torn asunder as these, all of whom are my people, engaged one another in a titanic battle, the one redress a wrong that had been caused by one to another and the other, to defend the indefensible.

I have seen what happens when one person has superiority of force over another, when the stronger appropriate to themselves the prerogative even to annul the injunction that God created all men and women in His image.

I know what if signifies when race and colour are used to determine who is human and who, sub-human.

I have seen the destruction of all sense of self-esteem, the consequent striving to be what one is not, simply to acquire some of the benefits which those who had improved themselves as masters had ensured that they enjoy.

I have experience of the situation in which race and colour is used to enrich some and impoverish the rest.

I have seen the corruption of minds and souls in the pursuit of an ignoble effort to perpetrate a veritable crime against humanity.

I have seen concrete expression of the denial of the dignity of a human being emanating from the conscious, systemic and systematic oppressive and repressive activities of other human beings.

There the victims parade with no mask to hide the brutish reality - the beggars, the prostitutes, the street children, those who seek solace in substance abuse, those who have to steal to assuage hunger, those who have to lose their sanity because to be sane is to invite pain.

Perhaps the worst among these, who are my people, are those who have learnt to kill for a wage.

To these the extent of death is directly proportional to their personal welfare.

And so, like pawns in the service of demented souls, they kill in furtherance of the political violence in KwaZulu-Natal. They murder the innocent in the taxi wars.

They kill slowly or quickly in order to make profits from the illegal trade in narcotics. They are available for hire when husband wants to murder wife and wife, husband.

Among us prowl the products of our immoral and amoral past - killers who have no sense of the worth of human life, rapists who have absolute disdain for the women of our country, animals who would seek to benefit from the vulnerability of the children, the disabled and the old, the rapacious who brook no obstacle in their quest for self-enrichment.

All this I know and know to be true because I am an African!

Because of that, I am also able to state this fundamental truth that I am born of a people who are heroes and heroines.

I am born of a people who would not tolerate oppression.

I am of a nation that would not allow that fear of death, torture, imprisonment, exile or persecution should result in the perpetuation of injustice.

The great masses who are our mother and father will not permit that the behaviour of the few results in the description of our country and people as barbaric.

Patient because history is on their side, these masses do not despair because today the weather is bad. Nor do they turn triumphalist when, tomorrow, the sun shines.

Whatever the circumstances they have lived through and because of that experience, they are determined to define for themselves who they are and who they should be.

We are assembled here today to mark their victory in acquiring and exercising their right to formulate their own definition of what it means to be African.

The constitution whose adoption we celebrate constitutes and unequivocal statement that we refuse to accept that our Africanness shall be defined by our race, colour, gender of historical origins.

It is a firm assertion made by ourselves that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white.

It gives concrete expression to the sentiment we share as Africans, and will defend to the death, that the people shall govern.

It recognises the fact that the dignity of the individual is both an objective which society must pursue, and is a goal which cannot be separated from the material well-being of that individual.

It seeks to create the situation in which all our people shall be free from fear, including the fear of the oppression of one national group by another, the fear of the disempowerment of one social echelon by another, the fear of the use of state power to deny anybody their fundamental human rights and the fear of tyranny.

It aims to open the doors so that those who were disadvantaged can assume their place in society as equals with their fellow human beings without regard to colour, race, gender, age or geographic dispersal.

It provides the opportunity to enable each one and all to state their views, promote them, strive for their implementation in the process of governance without fear that a contrary view will be met with repression.

It creates a law-governed society which shall be inimical to arbitrary rule.

It enables the resolution of conflicts by peaceful means rather than resort to force.

It rejoices in the diversity of our people and creates the space for all of us voluntarily to define ourselves as one people.

As an African, this is an achievement of which I am proud, proud without reservation and proud without any feeling of conceit.

Our sense of elevation at this moment also derives from the fact that this magnificent product is the unique creation of African hands and African minds.

Bit it is also constitutes a tribute to our loss of vanity that we could, despite the temptation to treat ourselves as an exceptional fragment of humanity, draw on the accumulated experience and wisdom of all humankind, to define for ourselves what we want to be.

Together with the best in the world, we too are prone to pettiness, petulance, selfishness and short-sightedness.

But it seems to have happened that we looked at ourselves and said the time had come that we make a super-human effort to be other than human, to respond to the call to create for ourselves a glorious future, to remind ourselves of the Latin saying: Gloria est consequenda - Glory must be sought after!

Today it feels good to be an African.

It feels good that I can stand here as a South African and as a foot soldier of a titanic African army, the African National Congress, to say to all the parties represented here, to the millions who made an input into the processes we are concluding, to our outstanding compatriots who have presided over the birth of our founding document, to the negotiators who pitted their wits one against the other, to the unseen stars who shone unseen as the management and administration of the Constitutional Assembly, the advisers, experts and publicists, to the mass communication media, to our friends across the globe - congratulations and well done!

I am an African.

I am born of the peoples of the continent of Africa.

The pain of the violent conflict that the peoples of Liberia, Somalia, the Sudan, Burundi and Algeria is a pain I also bear.

The dismal shame of poverty, suffering and human degradation of my continent is a blight that we share.

The blight on our happiness that derives from this and from our drift to the periphery of the ordering of human affairs leaves us in a persistent shadow of despair.

This is a savage road to which nobody should be condemned.

This thing that we have done today, in this small corner of a great continent that has contributed so decisively to the evolution of humanity says that Africa reaffirms that she is continuing her rise from the ashes.

Whatever the setbacks of the moment, nothing can stop us now! 
Whatever the difficulties, Africa shall be at peace! 
However improbable it may sound to the sceptics, Africa will prosper!

Whoever we may be, whatever our immediate interest, however much we carry baggage from our past, however much we have been caught by the fashion of cynicism and loss of faith in the capacity of the people, let us err today and say - nothing can stop us now!

Thank you.

"I am an African" is the title of a speech made by Thabo Mbeki on behalf of the African National Congress in Cape Town on 8 May 1996, on the occasion of the passing of the new Constitution of South Africa. At the time Mbeki was the vice president of South Africa under the presidency of Nelson Mandela. The speech defined the political mood of the moment in post-Apartheid South Africa and enhanced Mbeki's reputation as a political orator, in which respect he has been likened to Martin Luther King Jr.

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Justification...

I don't understand this.

Why is it that when people making racial slurs (e.g. white people) are exposed, the first thing that comes out of their mouths is:

I'm not a racist. Some of my best friends are black!

What the?

Does my walking around barefoot mean I support enviromentalist tree-huggers? No. It's totally unrelated.

Same applies to you having friends (or whatever) from a different race. You having black friends, or any other race for that matter, says nothing about the kind of person you are. What you decide on your own is not dependent on whether you have black friends or not. It's just one of those things that you either are or not.

There's no in-between.

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Paah aah!

Yeah, you read right. I said 'paah aah!' Come on you can do it too... 'paah aah'.

I know you're sitting there (I hope you're sitting) wondering what the hell 'paah aah' is.

Well, let me break it down to you.

Paah aah: pronounced - phaah-aah!

In my quest to better understand the unique yet unbelievably simillar race that is Black. Especially the South African version of this complex nation.

Only in South Africa (I say this because I've only lived here) will you find a black person who intentionally chooses to pronounce things differently. Simply because "that's how it's pronounced" - according to them at least.

In case you're still scratching your head and still reading this in hopes to really figure out what the hell paah aah is, then let me give you some hints...

It rhymes with 'power hour' actually, it doesn't rhyme with 'power hour' as much as it is power hour. That's right. Paah aah is the Black South African version of the phrase "power hour".

I know you're wondering why it's spelt that way, well, like I mentioned earlier, that's how your "educated" back person pronounces it. Everybody else is just doing it wrong. They know better. They know how these things were supposed to be pronounced in the first place. And they are here to save us from ourselves.

Power hour is not the only phrase that's pronounced this way. Almost anything that has anything to do with anything can sound like something you've never ever heard before. Even if the black person is repeating what you just said.

You: "Did I just say anything?"

Me: "Yes. Anything."

• 'Italy' can very easily be 'Edly' as it gently rolls of the "educated" tongue.


• Before you know it... "Hour" becomes "Aah". Next thing you know, no-one's saying "I'll be there in an hour" it's now "I'll be there in an aah".

Don't you dare say I never warned you. I'm looking out for your best interests here...

Today's assignment: Ask any black person to spell the word 'embarrassment' to you. Just as a test.

Listen very carefully as he/she (usually a she - no idea why) fixes her lips, clears her throat and then starts off:

E-M-B-A-

(...just as you least expect it. She hits you with the A-bomb...)

-aah-aah-A-S-S-M-E-N-T

WHAAAT!?

In that nasal English accent she's been practising so vehemently after every episode of any given American TV show.

It's not like I can't spell 'embarrassment' that's basically how it'll sound as it blesses your inexperienced ears as the "educated" folk showers you with years of Joint-Matriculation Board English.

All "R's" become "aah's" simply coz it's so uncool to pronounce the letter R as it God intended.

Why? Because that's how it was meant to be pronounced. You're just behind. You haven't caught up with the times yet.

Beware of the dangerously educated black tongue!

edit:
Don't EVER ask the "educated" black person to say "Rick Ross". All you'll hear is "Wick Woss" - You don't want that!

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Closing date motivation

Give any black person anything to do and the first thing they'll ask you is... "when do you want this?".

Regardless of how urgent the thing already is, they'll still ask... "by when?". You can give a black person a time-bomb with 30 seconds left on the timer, and they'll still ask you... "by when should I defuse this?"

You know why?

Black people are motivated by a deadline.

In any way shape of form. As long as it has a due date, a black guy (for political correctness: by guy I mean a black person) wont do it until there's at least an hour before the closing date/time or whatever.

Try this, observe any random black person looking for a job for instance. What's the first thing they look for? You guessed it... THE CLOSING DATE! Never mind if they even qualify for the damn job. All they really wanna know is... "when should I start applying for this job?". Not "by when should I have submitted my application?"

What they want is when the last day is, so they can fill in the form the night before, then run around getting coppies certified, etc. All this while telling anyone who cares to listen "closing date is today, I need to apply!" And they always seem to have some permanent grin on their faces while looking for that ever illusive stapler.

Even competitions are like that. We don't enter shit! Not because we can't or we don't want to. We just wait for the closing date to come so we can go mail that entry form.

Not once have you ever heard a black person say, "oh, that, I've entered already". Never, not once, not ever! NEVAR!!!

Then we complain when we don't win shit.

How many times have you seen a black guy saying "I've never won anything in my life!"? Huh?? All the time? Thought as much.

That one guy who happens to win anything is that dude who happened to be persuaded by some sales person to enter now. Either that, or that over-eager relative entered on their behalf! He was probably gonna wait till the closing date any way.

Is seems the words "Closing Date" translates to something like "Start By" when it comes to black people.

Have you seen how many black people are in queues on the last day of anything? Anything and everything.

• Lottery queues are longest on the day of the draw
• Queues are longest on the last day of tax returns at the revenue service's offices

Basically queues in general are longest on the last day, because of black people. We don't get out of the house unless there's a reason. And that reason better be a closing date, otherwise we aint going nowhere.

We wont settle our debts till we get a FINAL letter of demand from whoever we owe. And unless that letter has a "Payment due by" date, then they might as well come get the money themselves.

Black women won't take maternity leave until that baby's about to pop out. And when they get labout pains at work, they claim "But the doctor said in two weeks!?!" LOL! Ok, I'm gonna stop now.

I'm not saying I'm innocent in all this. But I do try. And I have won a couple of competitions in my time.

Peace!

I love my black people!

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Cool money

Apparently, there's a guy in Joburg, who while working at a construction site, stumbled upon a cooler box. And being the black guy he is. And also taking into account the fact that there are always bombs being tucked away 6 metres underground in cooler boxes, he didn't wanna take any chances.

He very immediately alerted his nearest police station. Upon arrival the cops, (note: THE COPS, not the bomb squad) opened the cooler box, only to find... 1.5 million rand. In R50 and R20 notes.

Imagine how dumb this idiot must feel. I'd fucking kill myself. I'd stab myself with a sharp object on the spot.

I mean, what are the chances that there's a massive bomb terrorist going around burrying bombs 6 metres into the earth in case some construction worker can accidentally detonate the thing and blow him to threads? Who would go through the trouble of making a bomb, only to plant it in some obscure location in hopes that it'll blow some random stranger(s) up?

That's dumb.

So what's in it for this dude? Let's see...

First off, he's already gotten enough mention (even if they're keeping him anonymous because of the utter embarrassment he'd face) all over the radio stations, news papers and online. But let's look at what happened first.

He found the money, called the cops to come open a cooler box for him, then what did he get immediately after that? That's right, a thank you. And probably a pat on the back to sweeten the deal. I mean, it's not like the cops were looking for a blue and white cooler box with undisclosed contents in exchange for a big reward?? It's not like he helped the community in any way by removing the potentially catastrophic coller box bomb off the streets and thereby making his working environment a safer place for all?! Great man!!

Imagine his popularity at home now? I'm sure the wife's pissed as hell everytime she sees him.

Like "You fucking idiot, hnow we gonna have tea without milk!"; "Great, now the bread is finished! Useless idiot!"; "Wonderful, we're having chicken again today!"

He could've done anything in the world. He chose to be the good guy who does the right thing.

I'd fucking kill myself, I swear. I'd actively go out looking for a goddamn bomb and blow myself up. I'd even make one, if push came to shove.

Seriously, he's gonna feel like crap everytime he doesn't have money for anything.

He's a fucking construction worker! He finds a cooler box. Why didn't he at least think that it might contain some beer or food or something else other than a stupid bomb. I don't understand. Even if it were, what are the chances that HE's the lucky bastard to find a bomb burried in the ground?

I doubt the Mayor of the town will actually give him some money as a token of appreciation. He'll probaby get a key to the city and that's about it. What do you need a key for? It's not like there's a place where only people with keys hang out and laugh at all the other idiots without keys; and now you have full access to that area?! I seriously doubt that. Even if he/she does give him smoney, it sure as hell wont be R1.5m.

Imagine what he could've done with all that money?

He could've very nicely told his stuck up boss to go to the nearest hell. Fed his family for yeeeears. Upgraded his life as whole basically.

I doubt he would've gone to school to learn something to make that R1.5m grow. He probably would be dead in two weeks. You know how black people always wanna show off? After buying a round of drinks for everyone at the local drinking hole. He would have proudly made an announcement that he;s now a millionnaire and no-one can touch him. Only to turn up two weeks later with 148 stab wounds. Talk about being untouchable.

I guess it's a good thing he did.

Good for you guy, you're a good South African citizen. That's the spirit. Trust the cops to open a cooler box for you simply because they're wearing a uniform. That doesn't make them less immune to getting blown up. And you were probably not too far from the box when it was opened, so you were gonna get fucked up anyway.

Shit.

Now he's stuck doing construction for years to come. He wont quit his job, every site he goes to, he'll be opening up shit. In hopes it'll have even a ten rand note in there.

Not gonna happen. Ever.

You stayed up all night praying to God to help you with your financial status, and when He does, you hand it over to the cops? He's not making that mistake again. Trust me.

//article

*edit: that's not him in the pics.

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teh PaperCut Designs

Here's the design I was talking about... here

I think it goes well with the fact that February is considered "Black History Month".


This is the first one I did:
With 5 of the most influential "Africans" of our time - in my opinion. Malcom X, Barack Obama, Dr Martin Luther King jr., Nelson Mandela and Steve Biko. All feeling good to be African! LOL!

The background and inspiration behind this creation, is a speech/peom by former State President (then Deputy President) Mr. Thabo Mbeki titled, I Am an African. Which he delivered on the occasion of the adoption by the constitutional assembly of "The Republic of South Africa Constitution Bill 1996." Delivered in Cape Town on 8 May 1996.

Followed by this one. Didn't actually plan on having two. I just wanted one. But I thought it made more sense to only have African-Americans this time around.

Excerpts from the poem:

Together with the best in the world, we too are prone to pettiness, petulance, selfishness and shortsightedness.

But it seems to have happened that we looked at ourselves and said the time had come that we make a super-human effort to be other than human, to respond to the all to create for ourselves a glorious future, to remind ourselves of the Latin saying: Gloria est consequenda - Glory must be sought after!

Today it feels good to be an African.

It feels good that I can stand here as a South African and as a foot soldier of a titanic African army...

//get it here//

To me this speech encomasses everything that makes us African. Everything. From what makes us African to our beautiful vista all over the continent.

It makes me feel proud to be an African.

So yes, today it does feel good to be an African.

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Black

I'm sure you've noticed by now that most of my posts are either for or about black people, being black, and general black behaviour.

This is not because I have some sort of dislike for black people, it's just that there are a very many things about black people that I myself as a black person cannot understand. And I think being an insider in these things makes me more open to general blackness amongst ourselves as a black nation.

I for one, am a very proud black person. I am not in any way ashamed of anything that I do or not do as a black person. What I say, how I say it, what I listen to, how I speak. Those are not the things that define my blackness. My blackness is not defined by any one thing. My accent is sometimes not black. My being able to speak so many different South African languages doesn't confine me to one particular accent. I don't sound Zulu when I speak English but I know I am. I don't have to sound anything to be anything.

Having said that, I have a problem with black people who chose to completely turn their backs on their blackness. Their having short curly hair. Having skin darker than other races. Asses bigger than most. Noses more profound.

All these things are what we as a black people tend to dwell upon - what we don't have; the negative side of being black. But what about all the positives with which we have a natural upper-hand over any other race?

How many people in South Africa can say they can speak over three languages at any given time without flinching? I mean, in one sentence, your average black person can use 3-4 languages easily. And it's second nature to us. Yet you find thousands of black people who chose to stick to one language - English. Why? Same applies to people who chose to stick to just one language even though there's a whole palate of languages to chose from.

As much as I admire those people for not wanting to lose their identity, it wouldn't hurt to try something else.

It seems as time goes on, more and more of the world is becoming one thing. Where you can't tell the difference between a South African and somebody from halfway around the world. All this thanks to the media -TV, magazines, and the internet. We're becoming more and more cross-cultural. Nothing wrong with that except when people lose who they are along with their natural hair.

I don't know what it is about hair that fascinates me... For some reason, hair to me symbolises a lot about a black person. Whether you're male or female, it doesn't matter.

Deciding to have dreads wasn't a decision I took lightly. I had had every other hairstyle you can possibly imagine. My dreads mean something to them, especially having had them for so long, they've kinda grown on me.

Anyway... if you chose not to have real hair on your head, I can learn understand that.

I'm not narrow-minded or anything. I can fully understand your need as a black woman to look like 78 million other black women all over the world and have plastic hair sown into your head and all that.

I totally understand.

It's the pressure. Pressure from everywhere. If you don't look like them, they think something's wrong with you. Shit, you end up feeling like something's wrong with you. So you conform. I understand that.

I'm not saying everyone should walk around with afros and wear stuff they made themselves.

The thing about hair is that, it is one of the most important parts of a person that has to be in order. If that's messed up, you're not really sure what to make of a person. So your spending 12 hours getting fake hair attached to your head is totally forgivable.

Though there are some black people (women especially) who go through all these measures not to 'fit in' but all in an effort to run away from their blackness, they don't wanna be associated with being black.

They swear to never ever date a black man, to only live in the white suburbs, have white friends, speak only English, and totally neglect their blackness.

Why?

I don't understand that.

There's a worldwide craze of white men wanting to be with black women, and some even go as far as marrying them, and you wanna look like what they're running away from? Starving yourself because your butt's too big? Says who? Is it the same TV channel that shows you "beautiful" skinny white women 90% of the time?

There are women all over the world who would sell their houses to have a big round black ass. You have that naturally. You were born with it. It's the one thing you can be proud of having 'inherited' that (if anything) truly makes you black.

I love my blackness. I don't know about you. I love everything about it. Not only is black beautiful. Black is everything to me.


I love that I as a black person, can adapt to any situation you throw me into. I can hang with black people as much as I can hang with any other race. I can go anywhere I want and do anything I want. I love that about my blackness. Any other race would make headline news if they did the same.

I have some friends who would wanna attack me for this. But I really don't care. I am who I am and this is me. If you knew me well enough you'd understand.

What makes you ashamed of being black?

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The (r)evolution of me

I've noticed recently that I'm becoming more and more... I don't know... conscious of my blackness.

This is not a bad thing by any means, I mean, I've been black my whole life. Unlike Michael Jackson. And will continue to be for years to come.

What I'm saying here is that recently, I've noticed how a lot of things I do seem to revolve around blackness. Mainly our past as a black people. Anywhere in the world.

Over the past few weeks I've been working on a couple of designs, and the recurrent theme in these designs, seems to be Blackness. I don't know why. I don't know if I'm making any sense to you reading this, just that I'm trying to figure it out myself.

I designed a piece a few weeks ago. Titled Resist. That's the one with the red background by the way. And I didn't necessarily set out to design a piece like that. It just ended up that way.
I was listening to some music at the time, and a song kept crawling up on my playlist and I created the RESIST with a fist and set it aside while working on the rest of the design. Which was meant to be a grundgy wallpaper. I just ended up adding RESIST into the design, and then came the few words from the song. A house song by Roland Clark. I'm not sure who's on the vocals though...

After that I just added pics of people doing exactly what the song was saying. Resisting. It all came together. I can't explaing it.

I have no reason for feeling the need to tell anyone to "resist", or "run for their lives". Hell, I self don't have any reason to resist.

Second piece:

I designed this last night -04.Feb.2009. Inspired by this one...

I was bored at my place, and decided to work on a design. I didn't have anything in mind at the time, but while browsing around looking for a background pic, I came accross some pics in my library. It was a picture of President Obama, the and the African continent. And at the time, there was a bootleg house mix of my favourite former State President Thabo Mbeki's speech/poem, I Am an African. I decided to put the three together.

As the design went on, I realised the project was just getting bigger as I got more ideas of what to add, but didn't wanna clutter it like the Resist one. So I thought I should rather perfect what I already have and would finish it off today after I got the rest of the pics I wanted to add. (I'll be putting the pic up on here tomorrow.

Ok, enough about the design process, I'm sure you were starting to nod off there a little bit.

What this whole thing is really about is basically that I was never raised as anything but being a black person. I was raised in a family where nobody backed down from anything. From any race at any given time. Though none of my family member give much of a damn about politics...

I don't hate any race for any reason. I was raised to be aware of my blackness. Not aware of it as in, be ashamed or apologetic for it. Just be aware.

I don't come accross as the type of black person who would cause any problems for anyone, and to be honest I really am not like that. And it's for that very reason I don't expect you to treat me any different because of the black person that I am.

Though I claim not to read any books, there are a couple of books I have read; and maybe that's the reason I'm feeling the way I do at this point in my life. I prefer reading about people's lives. And not some guy who is told to climb up a montain for a ring. I don't even watch those type of movies.
I prefer biographies. Especially what is Black literature in the mainstream. Even though most black literiture isn't really what you would call 'mainstream'. I read Alex Hailey's Malcolm X biography twice, I can't tell you why. Simply because I don't know. Read Capitalist Nigger (for some reason I can never remember this guy's name) lost interest in it at some point, but finished it anyway. I'm thinking of readin 3 other books in more or less the same train of thought as the two I mentioned.

Being a child of the web generation. I do most of my reading online. I lose myself on Wikipedia a lot. I just click links from within whatever article I'm reading and I just never know where I'll end up.

End.

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Hobbilessness

It's no joke.

It's actually pretty sad how so many black people go around their day-to-day lives without hobbies.

I was watching Miss SA on Monday, and noticed how all the black people (all but one) didn't really have any hobbies as they were shown strutting their stuff catwalk style. One of them actually listed 'singing in a choir' as her hobby. What kinda hobby is that? Singing in a choir? Might as well list singing in the shower as part of her un-ending list of things to do on a lazy weekend afternoon.

Why is it that all black people can call a hobby (men especially) is kicking a ball around, while our white counterparts have such an array of things from which to choose?

White people have a whole world of opportunities in terms of sporting and recreational activities.

I was watching skateboarding on Supersport yesterday and not even one of all those white people who kept flying high up in the air were of African descent. Why is that? And this seems to be an international situation. Have you ever heard of black people going on holiday anywhere else except the beach? I mean, nevermind the fact that 98% of black people can't swim to save their lives, or even be good enough in water to at least enjoy the waves, the salty water and sand they all flock to during summer.

I'm not too sure who's to blame for all this chaos. We can't keep blaming our past for the limited oportunities we were presented all the time. Who's to blame for your not being able to swim or play any other sport except one where you have to kick a ball.
It's most probably because black people indeed are historically disadvantaged. All these other sports/hobbies need some sort of equipment/device in order to be played properly. For soccer, all you really need is two legs (or two arms - for the ladies), and anything round. It could even be a whole lot of old plastic bags balled up together to make a ball and you're sorted.

Reasonable explanation.

This is not only about the men in our societies. Black women too are at a huge disadvantage. All they can list as their hobby is netball. Nothing else. (Well except the 'watching TV, listening to the radio, reading magazines' they mention at every chance.) Speaking of which... what kind of hobbies are those anyways? Watching TV, listening to the radio and reading magazines don't really count as hobbies in my book. Those are normal stuff that everyone who has those facilities available to them can do at any given time.
Seriously.

People (normal people, not you hobbyists) watch TV at least twice a day and for varying amounts of time.
You watch TV in the morning (the news or whatever) then again after work. Now ask yourself: is that a hobby?

Some people even go as far as listening to radio instead of watching TV (while driving or walking around of whatever). Does that make listening to radio a hobby?

While others prefer to read magazines. And I mean magazines, like Financial Mail or CEO os someting along those lines. Curling up on your bed reading Cosmo doesn't necessarily count as a hobby. Or does it?

If this continues, I think the black races is destined for extinction. All our 'hobbies' revolve around doing nothing. Being uninvolved seems to be our biggest and best hobby. Of course except chasing a ball all over the place.

But what happens when you're too old to play soccer? Or netball? And by old I mean your mid 30's. Coz for black people, that's when everything just stops. All of a sudden you're "too old" to be playing anything that might result in you sweating. It is at this point in your life where you start getting involved in those 3 hobbies listed above. It's really depressing.

Another thing black people consider a hobby is... you guessed it. Sex. Black people love sex. Even if they're not having it. Just the thought of the act itself seems to excite them. You wonder why we have such a large number of cousins, half-sisters/brothers and most of whom we don't even know about. That's why when black people meet they have to aks your full names. Surname and all. In case you're their family twice removed or something.

I refuse to have my kids grow up being exposed to only stereotypical black sports/hobbies. I didn't grow up like that, I wont expext them to be.

And plus, I need some proper hobbies myself. Reading a magazine while listeing to radio on TV just isn't gonna cut it.


:Paper!

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Take it away black people!

Let’s face it. In line with whole brand consciousness that black people are famous for; the next most favourite thing black people love… is take-aways.

It doesn’t matter where or what they eat. Take-away is a must. KFC, Spur, Wimpy, anywhere they eat. They just gotta have… a “doggy bag”.

After spending only one week, of being exposed to only a handful of places from where I can eat, I’ve come to notice some very interesting things about how we as black people interact with our food. What we do and not do around meals, etc.

One thing that really struck me today was how out of a table seating six. Every one of them left with a plastic bag in hand. And this, after they all had gone to the bathroom together (well, nothing there… they’re women). But when I walked into the restaurant (Spur to be exact) there were six bags with take-aways all round the table. I actually didn’t think too much of it, but it did seem pretty odd. So I took a table within view of that table so I can see what was going on.
Few minutes later… they all came to their beloved plastic bags, smiles and all, and made their way out towards the door.
Now, they obviously didn’t take that food home so they can eat them at a later time, but to make sure everybody knows where they’d just had dinner. Spur. Not just any old food place. A place where you go for very special occasions, I gathered it was some sort of special occasion, coz one of the ladies had a wrapped gift-looking thing in her hand. To the people, this is the ultimate in splurging your accumulated riches. So obviously you want everybody to know you can afford to eat at Spur every now and then. Even if you get home late at night and all your nosy neighbours are asleep, but you know you gotta keep the plastic bag so you can put rubbish in it and place it outside on top of your half-empty rubbish bin to top it all off. Just to make sure they see it.

Ok, lemme give these God-fearing mortals the benefit of the doubt and say they were really and honestly just taking some food home (maybe for the children) to enjoy later. Ok? Cool.

But how do you explain all six people deciding to do the same thing all at once - ask for a doggy bag? Here’s what I think happened. I think one stopped eating. Probably the one who knows she might never get a chance to enjoy such luxuriously juicy ribs and chips. She’s most probable also the self-appointed leader of the pack. So she stopped eating, claiming she can’t finish her food because she’s had too much orange juice. Asked for a doggy bag so she can eat some more either later tonight, tomorrow or whenever really. So the impressionable “second in command” decided to do the same. Probably with a slightly altered excuse, but it worked. So the excuses kept rolling in one after the other. Maybe five minutes apart or something. But at the end of it all, each one had their own doggy bag being prepared by the waitron.

Still can’t really explain how they all ended up leaving the table empty for whatever destination.

Anyways, I don’t understand black people sometimes. Most of them do things for the next person, rarely for their sole satisfaction. I really don’t understand that.

teh PaperCut, signing out. I’m watching 300, excuse me a moment.

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Fandom!

I don't think white people give a damn about our (blacks) sports.

Have you ever seen a white guy (or a person of any other race fo that matter) wearing a soccer [team] replica shirt? Ever? I didn't think so.

And yet you see so many black people trying to be all "intergrated" wearing Blue Bulls/Cheetas/Stormers/whaterver shirts like they have shares in the brand.

Ever notice how the streets get swarmed by people (black, white, yellow) wearing a rugby t-shirts? I mean up to a point where you start to feel like an outcast for wearing normal clothes on the day of Die Groot Wedstryd [The Big Game/Match/Whatever]. Your own black people, look at you funny when you walk by staring, they stare at you like you're still stuck in the 90's.

But whenever a local soccer team plays, all you see are thousands of black people from all over the place wearing soccer shirt replicas. I have never seen even one white person wearing a Celtic jersey or Olando Pirates, Sundowns or whatever. They just don't care.

Why should I bother shouting "Blou Bulle" [Blue Bulls] up and down the streets, when you won't ever hear a person of any other race frollicking all over the place screaming Amabakabaka!! ??

semi-related:fandom #2

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Black people fascinate me

Why are black people so obsessed with labels then claim to be "style conscious"? What's that about?

I swear, for as long as people have been designing things and putting their name on it, black people have been the highest consumers of it.

Nevermind if something looks completely crappy, if it's got a famous name on it, rest asured some black person out there can't wait to spend their borrowed money on it and make sure everyone know it's an Ed Hardy original. Do you even know who the hell Ed Hardy is? I do. And I don't own even one Ed Hardy original, simply because I don't actually care much about what the label says, I'm more concerned about whether I like it or not. Whether I look good in it.

I mean look at all these rappers that are all over our TV screens on a daily. You'll rarely see one just wearing your average clothes and not mentioning what brand it is and how much it cost him. e.g. The Luis Voiton Don himself. Okay, maybe it's their way of bragging about what they've achieved with their God-given talents. What's your excuse?

For some odd reason advertising and the media have been feeding us with the notion that wearing a designer label makes you "hot". Well, maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe they're just trying to use the media to popularise their brand so that they can make money. No, wait... isn't that exactly what advertising is all about?

This has gotten so far out of hand that people look at you differently if you're not going with the latest trends, the latest and most expensive brand out the at the moment.

If for some reason you're not driving a car with a recognisable brand then forget about getting that girl you keep running into at the post office. She'd rather die than be seen in your trusted Picanto. Doesn't matter if you're probably the guy she's been looking for her whole life (personality & character wise), all that matters is that you're not driving the "right" car. The "right" guy drives an X6, Q7 or at least a Porsche. You know, that guy who always has a different girl in the front seat. Yeah, that's the guy she'd rather be seen with. Not you Mr. Picanto. No... no... no... ala Amy Winehouse!

It is for this very reason that you find so many of our black brothers are so deep in debt, they can hardly afford themselves. They're more concerned about what the Joneses are up to. You'll rarely see a black guy spending money on what they want to spend money on. In fact, I don't even think they know what they want.
This is true for almost everything. Culture, religion, language, who they socialise with, how they socialise with those people. It's all about what the next person's gonna think. It's never about them first then them later.

Black people are just weird like that. I don't get it.

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So hundreds... okay maybe not hundreds... or celebrities are flocking to historically-impoverished Mother-Africa year in and year out to provide aid to the needy. There's nothing wrong with that, we really appreciate it.

But how many people were in desperate need of aid during the hurricanes in New Orleans? Tens of thousands. And yet very little was done to help them out in any way, the little that was done is nothing compared to the kind or charity that some African countries receive from USAID, UN and the likes.

How come you never hear of a documentary outlining the most porverty stricken areas in the United States? For some reason the media seem to be focusing too much on what Paris Hilton is up to instead of concentrating on what the average American struggles with. For some of us who are overly exposed to American glam lifestyles to a point where we were shocked to see our black brothers and sisters' homes wash away in the tragedy that was Hurricane Katrina. The whole thing lasted only a few weeks on our TV screens before we were blessed with yet another shot of yet another celebrity adopting a foreign child. How come none of these 'celebrities' cared enough about their fellow Americans to try help them out with food and other essentials?

Considering that black American are a minority in the US, I guess there was no way things could've played out any differently. There was just no way GW could've send more people to go help out the poor minority groups stranded atop their houses.

Tinstead of focusing on getting them help, they instead focused on how "ungreatful" they were being for the very little help they were getting and therefore "looting".

Wouldn't you loot, if you didn't have the loot?

Anyways, this is not what this is about...

This is about this:

How come poor people seem to only be potrayed in gangsta-shoot-em-up kinda movies? Either that or some stupid comedy about how much black people love chicken. Why can't we learn anything from America? And yet, Oprah shows some footage about how some black walk for 10 miles just to get to school, and everybody is suddenly in tears and wanting to come to "THE MOTHERLAND" and help out. Again, I'm not saying we don't need your help. We do. But I'm of the opinion that there are people Black, Yellow, Green, Indian, Purple whatever, that are also in serious need of your generosity. What about them?

And why the focus on Africa so much? Do you have any idea the kind of living conditions some Asian countries are living under? Try to look past the 800 million people walking up and down the big city lights in China, look at the way they live in the slums. No wonder some Asian cities have resorted to being sex-tourist attractions. And a majority of "tourists" that frequent those countries are American. Meaning they're making a lucrative business out of other peoples' unfortunate situations.

Considering the number of expats living in the US, I doubt they're all living the high life complete with all the glitz and glamour that comes with proudly annoucning "I live in America now" when meeting with old friends back home. I doubt their lifestyles have changed much. Granted they may have lost their original accents, and probably dream in English now, but I doubt the average American living in the US is any better than I am here in Africa.

This is based simply on the fact that I refuse to beleive everyone in the US is "well off".

I'm pretty sure they go through the same day-to-day struggles we go through.

All I'm saying is, show us the poor people in the US, show us how they live, maybe they need aid muh more than we do.

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White people need a proper hero!

I'm sick and tired of this crap.



First of all, I don't think some white people even know the real meaning of the word 'hero'. To be quite honest neither do I. Let's face it, 'hero' isn't neccessarily one of those words you'd look up in a dictionary. You just go through life assuming you know what it means.



Hero. Come on. It's pretty straight forward. Hero: the guy who runs into a burning building to save his daughter's favourite doll. Now there's a hero. He doesn't have to save his favourite item in the house, he saves the one thing he knows means something to another person. You get the idea. Good.



Then comes this guy... Vernon Koekemoer. Yes, Vern The Man. He does the most heroic thing evar! (that's right evAr) The heroic of all heroes. Oh yeah. He goes to a rave festival thingy (with a very original name: H20) and does the unthinkable. Poses for a photo for some viral marketting scheme. Yes. That's pretty much all he did. Next thing you know, he's everyfuckingwhere...

• http://ramboguy.co.za/


• and this one


• more here...

All this stemming from a few shots of a guy with waist-high tennis shorts.

Turns out he was just a regular oke, who decided he needed a good time and went to the rave. Can't remember what his real name is though, I think he's 52 or something... Granted the marketting strategy worked. And I have absolutely nothing against that.

Anyway this post is not about good ol' Vern, it's about this guy...

There I am, chilling on an easy weekday listening to The Fresh Drive (5fm) and they just so happen to be having the special guest... Mr Koekemoer himself in the studio. So I'm thinking "O hell yeah, I wanna know stuff about this guy".

Cool, so they introduce him and they basically explain how the whole thing unfolded (him becoming famous and all). Good, now I know the basics. Then it's time for the phone calls. And white people are calling in like flippin maniacs. They're so "stocked" to be talking to him, and that Fresh has brought him into the studio, they can't even ask proper questions... around the end of the show. Some two idiots (two separate callers) call in and can't shut up about how much a hero Vern is. They on some...

Ja, howzit Vern, listen ey Vernon, you're like my flippin hero ey!

I'm like, wat!? Hero? Haibo! How now?

And this is like a looong time ago. Around Feb or something. And this whole 'hero' thing seems to have spread everyfuckingwhere. Since that guy called into the show, only thereafter did I realise how much white people like saying: "you're my hero". Not in the sarcastic or whatever way. And I'm not talking about people who've actually done anything heroic, I'm talking here aboout regular people. Like people who just pose in photos. Just like Vern the Hero.

I think white people need proper heroes. Sorta like black people have so many heroes. And I mean real heroes. I would hate to hear a black kid say they don't have a hero. Alive or dead. Most black people I know, look up to their family members as heroes. Yes, even those with brothers in jail and whatever.

With our history most black people alive today, especially those who died at the hands of the previous government, are our heroes as black South Africans.

But considering the way whites were living pre-94, I doubt they actually have anybody to look up to in a good light. What can they honestly say they have done to better the lives of white people today?

White people need a hero. ASAP.

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June 16, 1976

How come every time Youth Day comes around, all we ever hear about is how Hector Peterson was the first one to get shot and how young he was. How he got carried by some guy who's never been seen since?

What about the first girl that was shot? Does anyone ever think of building a First Girl to be Shot Memorial? Let's face it. Chances are, Hector wasn't the first one to get shot. He is probably the first one to get shot and have his picture taken moments after.

Why is it that all we're bombarded with is how bad the day was, but always from the same people. Same people every year. Honestly, can we make these people any richer? People are making money from all these interviews and magazine covers and whatnots.

What about the first policeman to get hit in the head by a flying brick fresh from an angry student's hand? What about the policeman who actually tried to save lives on the day. Lest we forget that most of the policemen involved in the student shootings were black. Because all the black man and woman was "good" at was either being a teacher, a nurse or a policeman. And yet all you ever hear about is how much the black youth emancipated themselves from Afrikaaner oppression. Why?

Why don't the other "Struggle heroes" ever get some airplay? You can't tell me the ones gracing our screens every year are the only other ones left.

How come we're only getting the story from only one side of Soweto? I mean, being the largest township in the country (if not the world), you would expect to at least get coverage of the uprising from all angles. But all you ever hear about is the riots that started at Morris Isaacson High School, and very little is said about Naledi High Shool.

Do you even know who Hastings Ndlovu is? If I ask you the same question about Hector Pieterson, will your answer be the same?

- Paper

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Zulu girls got serious ass in Joey's

edit: 29/10/2008 - for some serious ass... click here

So there I was on one chilly Friday morning, boarding a train deep into the ever busy city of Johannesburg. (aka Jozi/Jo'burg/JHB... and more recently "Joeys") Like most of my trips, it was just for one day.

While waiting for the train to fill up and people to settle down so we can get going. I realised something...

First let me explain this...

There are 3 trains that leave go from Pretoria to Jo'burg (that's what I perfer to call it btw) every morning.
There's the 1st class one (Express). Used mainly by people defined as middle to higher income employees. Then there's the higher income to I-can-buy-this-flippin-train-with-all-of-you-in-it boys & girls who can also be classified as 'employers' (the Business Express). Then last but not least, there's the just-in-case-I-don't-make-it-tell-my-mother-I-loved-her train (aka 3rd class). That's the one you get on when you basically have nothing to live for and have just found out you've got 3 months to live.

I was on the first one.

And I noticed something. Like on the aeroplane trip, business people are so self absorbed they hardly take notice of anything or anyone around them, all they do is, get a seat, wait for the hostess lady to give them their morning paper and hot coffee then that's it.

While on the other train, the Express, it's more of a bus/taxi/train experience. You get to sit with people and discuss whatever's on their minds. Sure we don't solve the world's problems in there, but you at least get to know people, you get to interact with people you wouldn't normally get a chance to encounter on a daily basis.

I have no idea what happens in the other train, so I won't bother. But based on the anger and hatred some of the people that either got thrown off (not litterally) or "detained"; all I could gather was that you have to at least have a uniquely identifiable scar on the side of your face (which I have, but I know I just wouldn't survive that side).

And hour later, we end up at Park station. I jumped off, and started making treks towards the Constitutional Hill, where I was supposed to spend most of my day. I went, and on my way there noticed that the Civic Theatre was closeby. So I went to chill there overlooking the wonderful Joburgers walking to work or to school or wherever...

Out of all the similarities Joburgers have... the fast walking, fast talking, the intensity in their eyes as they walk past you...

One thing caught my eye the most. Especially when it came to the ladies around the area where I was.

There are some basic things that tell you you're now officially in Johannesburg. Here's a short list of things you can just check if you're not sure:

• Most of them speak Zulu... [check] (even if most of them aren't even native Zulus, for some reason Zulu seems to be the accepted Joburg lingo)
• Most of them walk in small groups of three or so... [check]
• Are they walking faster than your average early in-the-morning pace? [check]

And the most defining factor of it all...

• Do the girls have thicker-than-your-average asses? [check] [double check and check again] - for some serious ass... click here

This is just one of those things that distinctly set Joburgers apart from everywhere else I've been.

Cape Town girls: fucking beautiful, nicely curved bodies, rich long hair (real not plastic). Usually a bit vertically challenged. But damn pleasing to the eye.

Bloemfontein girls: Loud. Materialistic. Probably has a baby. LOL! okay I can't really say much about Bloem chicks, only started analysing people recently. But soon as I go home, I'll be sure to give a proper postmortem. :)

Pretoria girls: Studying. Shares a flat with their sister's cousin twice removed. LOL!

I guess my affection for the Mother City is pretty clear and biased. Sue me.

Back to...

First of all, I'm not very particular when it comes to the female form, but one thing that is undeniably a prerequisite is most definately a behind a brother can be proud of. :)

And it seems the best place to find this particular prereq has got to be Joburg. Even the ugly girls got ass in Jozi.
So when you come face to face with that girl with the shaven-off eyebrows -replaced by a line, and the highly flamable plastic hair; spare a thought for the ass and sneak a peak as she walks by.
It'll make up for the fugly face you just encountered. Trust me.
Do it for the team!

On my way back to Pretoria, I decided to get a taste of some high life, and got on the Business Express. It's damn comfortable. Eish. Now I understand why people tend to say nothing. Soon as they sit down. But luckily I got to chill with some Black Diamonds, so it didn't feel so stuck up.

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Chinese = black like me!

I'd like to send a big shout out to all my Chinese brothers and sisters, who are now legally considered Black!

This came after the 'protests' by some Chinese organisation, wanting to be considered to be able to buy some pieces of the Black Empowerment caked Sasol had put on offer for people classified as "Black".

So this group of Chinese people decided to take Sasol to court to redefine what is considered a Black person in South Africa. Clearly skin colour had absolutely nothing to do with anything, considering the outcome. I'm not saying a person's blackness is defined by their skin pigmentation. But I would imagine it would also have been taken into consideration when christening Chinese people as black.

Can you honestly look at a Chinese person and see your long lost brother from another mother?? I didn't think so.

If they (the Government, or whoever decided on this) want Chinese people to be considered black and therefore get a cut in all BEE deals, based on the fact that some of them were (and continue to be) born in this country, then that means all the Zimbabweans seeking refuge in SA should also be given a chance to get a taste of the BEEness of is all. It's only fair. If people from another continent can just come down here, get citizenship then apply for BEE status, then the same should be allowed for genuine Black people from the African continent. They too should be offered shares.

Anyway... does all this mean that the 1.3 billion+ people living in The People's Republic of China are now considered brethren to the African people?

I really don't know about this.

It's bad enough our black (I mean people who are Black) brothers & sisters are still fighting the system for what's due to them, now even people from another continent are also in the running.

I think as a nation, we are too quick to look for quick fixes to shut people up. Instead of looking at what it really means to have Chinese people qualify for BEE status.

I mean what's the worst that could happen?

The whole SASOL Inzalo initiative ends on the 5th of July 2008. Would it have been such a mission to just delay the process a little bit, at least till the 7th of July? LOL!

Do you think they (the Chinese) would have gone on a strike - Holding up picket signs written in Chinese, which none of us would even be able to understand? Or maybe they would have at least tried to translate to the easietst form of Engrish there is. haha!!

Would they threaten to kill more pets? (come to think of it, have you actually ever seen a Chinese person owning a pet anything?)

Besides, these people live till they're like 108 years old or something like that... and at the rate black people are getting infected with AIDS & stuff, chances are, they're gonna outlive most of us anyways!

Shiiiit!

Next thing you know, we're celebrating the Chinese new year, the Year of the Rat, the Year of the Bull (which also happens to be the year I was born), the Year of Chairman Mao etc.

... just you wait...

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Why is it so hard to be black?

Why is it so hard for black people to just be BLACK PEOPLE?

Why is such a mission to be what we'll never be?

Why is it that white people don't go through so much trouble to look or at least even sound like us?

Why is it that it's considered cool to look and sound white?

Why do some white people even continue to encourage this behavior among blacks?

Why do some white people tell these black people "ooh, you speak so well"?

(translation: "you sound just like us")

How come you rarely see black people wearing their traditional clothes?

(I don't mean when there's some traditional wedding or whatever)

How come black people are so insecure in their own skins that they spend so much money buying plastic (or whatever the fuck it's made of) hair in their pursuit to look more white?

As much as you can go to your local PEP store to buy that "human hair", and spend a good 8 hours getting it sown into your head, there's very little chance they'll think you look like them therefore... .

Why are we as black people willing to invest so much time and energy in attempts to teach our white colleagues the right way to say "Hello" in Zulu; and yet we make fun of our black counterparts trying to use the word "infatuated" in the right context? Why do we consider our black brothers & sisters stupid when they can't pronunce some English words or can't fully express themselves in the Queen's language; and again, we applaude like well fed seals, grin like it's the best day of our lives when your white friend finally get's intoxicated enough to swear at everyone at the year-end function... in Zulu!?

Why we trying so hard to be what we can never be?

Come on black man... rise!

Being black is not a matter of pigmentation - being black is a reflection of a mental attitude.

It becomes more necessary to see the truth as it is if you realize that the only vehicle for change are these people who have lost their personality. - Steven Bantu Biko

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Black on black...

In light of all the kak that's been happening in South Africa lately...

I've been trying to blog about this since the Monday. I've srapped so many posts, I just couldn't find the right words to sum up what's been happening lately.

Someone just emailed me this. And I think it puts everything nicely into one sensible thing...

I might not be a South African

But I’m black, my skin is the same as yours
My colour is the same as yours
My genes are African, nothing but African
When your leaders were beaten by whites
I was there to shelter them
I was patient with them
I offered them food, shelter,
Most of all, I offered them protection

I might be a South African

I can’t speak Zulu, cause I’m Vhenda
I can’t speak Zulu, cause I’m Shangaan
I don’t know what an elbow is in Zulu
As much as you don’t know it in my language
Since when was Zulu the only South African language?
Yes……………I’m not from Gauteng
I was not born here, but I’m South African
Where should I go if you beat me
I’m not beating your father, mother, brother or sister who works at my area in the mines
I’m not calling them makwerekwere though they can’t speak my language.

I might be dark in complexion

I might have the foreigners looks
I might have the foreigners body structure
Now I am scared to go to the only place that I call home
I’m scared of working down the street without my ID
Whites wanted me to do that centuries ago
Now you, my black brother is acting white

Why should you Black South Africans do this?

What makes you think that you better than me?
Who told you that I’m responsible for your unemployment?
Who told you that I’m less human
If I need to go back to Vhenda...let all the Zulus go back to KZN
Let all the Tswana’s go back to Botswana
Let all the Sotho’s go back to Lesotho
Let all the Ndebele’s go back to Kwandebele
Let all the Xhosa’s go back to Eastern Cape
Yes... let all the Swati’s go back to Swaziland

Is this not ignorance?

Your unemployment is your responsibility
Use your intellect
Get up and work
Let education empower you
Seek humanity

Before 1994 you blamed whites
Now you are blaming me
Who are you going to blame after chasing me away?
Who are you going to blame after killing me?

For what it’s worth...

I’m sorry I was not born here
I’m sorry I can’t speak Zulu
I’m sorry for being too dark for your Joburg
I’m sorry for cleaning the toilets you don’t want to clean
I’m sorry for doing your garden
I’m sorry for repairing your shoes
I’m sorry for protecting your leaders while they were in Exile
Yes... what you call Exile...is my country
And most of all... I’m sorry for building South African infrastructure

Please my brothers let there be peace and prosperity amongst black African people.

Written by a Teary Black African...

I don't know who wrote the original piece, so I'm not too sure who to credit.

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