Catching Feelings Because Apartheid Didn't Know About Birth Control

I find comfort in the fact that I'm not the only one who does not remember directors' names, producers, authors and names and songs and actors' names and and. I'm glad I'm not the only one. I also know that those who remember these things are people who have a particular interest for films and movies. It's fair to say that those who are equally interested in films and books, sometimes don't bother with names too, I know one person already: myself. So, if you are out here feeling bad, don't. You are not alone. There are bigger problems out there in the world.

Right. Bigger problems. Better problems.

What are those actually? Who decides how big these problems are and which ones should be solved first? Or who should solve which ones and how they should be solved? Is it the people in power? Men in power? White men in power? Who decides who's problems comes first? Who's problems are bigger? More tragic?

Why men in particular? Misogony. Why white men? Why pull the race card? Racism.

I'm thinking of the Motherland today, I'm thinking of the seeds planted during apartheid. How, today, those seeds have blossomed for certain groups of people and for others, the continuous watering and nurturing of the results with no long-term benefit. Just enough to survive. And hope.

I'll take you back to before any white man placed foot on this land, my ancestors' land. Can you imagine what it was like? The daily routines. The friendly neighbours. The enemies in neighbouring villages, rivalries resolved with like weapons. The everyday life. Before they were told that they were primitive. That the only way they knew how to live was not enough. No, worse, that they were not enough. Nothing.

It's interesting. Because when people like me travel to parts of the world where we are the minority, there is something that hangs over us. Something that can trace its roots back to once upon a time when people living peacefully were unearthed and taught that they were less. And the rest of the world was taught that too.

That was back then right? Now times have changed. Nobody cares about skin color because we all have bigger problems to worry about. Stop talking like black people aren't represented enough. Stop mourning about black people not getting into good colleges, or getting housing or not getting better public transport in black communities (wherever in the world it may be).

Well explain to me then, how most black homes I know back home in Namibia, still live in poverty because people had to work in the boers' house while those the same age as them went to school, got degrees and inherited pa's business.

Explain to me how a black mother will buy her dream house, when she's been working for boers for the past 25 years, earning approximately $80 per month with rent costing half her salary. And you're worried about these people sitting on their butts and complaining about having it better, when their hands have been cut off right from the start?

But that's where I'm wrong. And I take that back, because the generalization is all wrong. Some black people are successful. Could it be that my biased poor background is defending my people? Making an excuse for the people I know who decided to drown in alcohol, crime and violence? Those who decided to drop out of school? Why am I defending them? Like I carry that with me everywhere I go. Like I feel this need to explain, to show that I'm not like them. To excuse them, and maybe a a faulty, hidden part of me.

On the other hand, how couldn't they take up these things when the only life they've known is the one of hunger and quick money?

Explain to me how a darker skinned black girl will have to fight harder to love herself when all she's ever seen on television are white women with long, smooth blonde hair. When there's been the pencil test and the brown paper bag test to see if she has any white attributes that will give her better opportunities. Whether it's school, or a job or even a life partner.

Oh yes, the world has problems. The world is full of problems, and a black girl like me? I am too occupied in this little world of mine, one that has issues with black women not being represented enough in media. One about love and exes. One about getting good money one day. Problems about self-image. My little problems that seem so small to the next person, and just like that, are some other people's problems to me.

It shows we have different priorities and that we'll have different means of solving any problems we have in common. So I pose my question: Who decides who's problems are bigger?

Not having enough to buy food, to pay rent or conflict with loved ones. Everyday problems. I hope we start with the little problems and get a little better at solving the bigger problems.

But let's take a moment for the problems we as a collective face. Problems about conflicts in the world where people, women and children lose their lives. Where people die from hunger and are killed for being themselves. Those are the problems I wish we could solve, the problems I wish we could do something about, and I think I can start right here. Within.

There's still so much unsaid here and its because I get scared when I talk about these things. I'm scared that people will misinterpret me and blow things out of context. Scared that trying to explain myself will give the wrong impression and that's why I understand why these conversations are hard. But I'm slowly building up and learning to talk about how I experience the world. I'm learning and I'm proud of how I've come.

With all that being said (and unsaid), disregarding someone else's problems or acting like you have bigger problems is not going to help you or the other. Acknowledge their problem,and if you have nothing nice to do or say, just don't say anything at all. Turn around and go solve your gigantic problem.

NB: This text contains hidden messages to an ex-classmate of mine.

Queen:)