This baby girl was very lucky to have been born in India. She is being worshipped as a reincarnated god.
This girl was very unlucky to have been born in South Africa. To white parents. In 1955.
I recently read When She was White, the story of Sandra Laing, a dark skinned child born to white Afrikaans. Sandra’s parents (especially her father) fought long and hard to keep their daughter classified as white. The novel was difficult for me to sit through, not only because it’s so disjointed…probably because Sandra is so traumatized by everything that’s happened to her that she’s blocked out most of her past…but for more obvious reasons. Simply put, the story is damn depressing. Not to mention infuriating. Her parents…where to begin? How does the saying go? De Nile is not just a river in Egypt? Well, I suppose it’s not technically denial since they both acknowledged her skin tone as evidence of African ancestry in their family trees, of course, one would have to in that situation, but to expect others to see her as white simply because she was their child? To enroll her in a white boarding school sight unseen and not expect some sort of backlash? That’s got to be denial. But of course, to label her as anything but white was out of the question. And if she was indeed white…why couldn’t she attend an all white school? Yeah. Makes sense when your life is steeped in crazy racist notions.
When I flipped through the pictures in the book it’s obvious that her mother and father felt completely different about Sandra. Her father was not…fond of her. Whereas it’s no mystery that Sandra came from Sannie’s loins, I’m sure that Abraham was constantly looked down upon as a cuckold. It was obvious that she wasn’t his child….right? Right? I don’t know how many times I’ve watched a TV show featuring a man happily awaiting his unborn child only to look astonished as a black screaming baby made his/her debut. It’s such a classic “Wait a minute…I’m not the father!” moment. Because otherwise, how would you know? Anything else could be explained away. But even if Sandra wasn’t the embodiment of Sannie’s indiscretion, she had to pay for being born. She was a stain on their white life. In the end, she went one way and her family went another. She was reclassified as coloured and her family continued to blame her for all of their (and her) problems.
I feel like there was a lesson to be learned in all of this, but ignorance prevailed.
My baby is turning one in less than a month. C’mon c’mon c’mon get through it… Jesuscristalmightybythebeardofzues what the hell? I’m to that point where my Zain-awe is starting to elicit glazed over eyes and looks of boredom. I’m sorry I still find my child fascinating! I wish I could not sit dumbfounded when in the company of people my own age and stare at my kid like an idiot, I really do. And yes, I’m being serious. I sometimes feel like my social skills are seriously impaired. Not to mention my mental capacity. Yeah yeah we’ve been through this. I’ve mentioned this before, and I will continue to sound like a broken record. I’m waiting for that feeling waiting for that feeling waiting for that feeling to come…
It’s makes sense that I’m listening to one of the most maddeningly repetitious songs I’ve ever heard: Tender by Blur.
But like I was saying: Z is almost a year old. All I want before that day comes is to see one…ONE…tooth up in his mouth. Just one! It’s the small things that apparently matter to me. Nevermind that he happily mashes up anything you place in his hand between his gums, I’d like those two bottom teeth that have been lurking at the top of his gums for about six months now to pop out and say hello.
I smell shit. Off to do my duty.
Let my preggo goooooooo.
Oh. Such good times. Doesn’t really make sense, but it’s funny just the same. (Heh)
So I’m really not surprised, I’m pretty sure this song and dance will never get old. Get pregnant, go on the Today show. Get asked the same question, “Are you planning on having more?” and then they parrot out the same tired answer, “We’d love to! Children are a gift from God!” Or maybe TLC will film a special about it, with a surprise ending: Guess who’s knocked up? No, seriously.
SRSLY. WE’RE NOT KIDDING YOU. THIS CHICK IS CRAZY FERTILE.
You know, as my co-worker told me today: “They’re not hurting anyone.” And that is true. But it’s still DELICIOUSLY annoying. The fact that she’s been in a pregnant state for more than a third of her life? Kind of creepy. The fact that ALL of their daughters want to be stay at home moms? Kind of scary. And then there’s the outfits. THE OUTFITS. *shuddershake* But here’s the thing: Jim Bob and Michelle can keep on keepin’ on. They can smile and nod and act as if they’re actually doing some good in this world by not using contraceptives (not even a condom people? Jesus name!). Mama Duggar can ring in Mother’s Day and pretend that she’s Super Mom even though it’s really the village raising the children…I’d imagine the workload gets easier when you’ve got 20 hands or more to ease the pain.
But…could they do all of this…walking off into a sunset or something? Waving goodbye as they sail away to some unchartered territory?
Filed under Opinion, Rant
You know The Moldy Peaches’ song Anyone Else But You ? Kiiiinda monotonous. And it totally sounds like The Surrey with a fringe on top. Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry, when I take you out in my surrey, when I take you out in my surrey with a fringe on top, You’re a part time lover and a full time friend, the monkey on your back is the latest trend, I don’t see what anyone could see in anyone else … See what I mean?
That’s not to say the song sucks. It’s just drives me a bit batty.
So I finally saw Juno. And I liked it, just like I thought I would. Oh and hey, Moondance Alexander went straight to DVD. Saw that one coming from miles away! But back to Juno: I actually cried. (Cried! I’ve officially turned into my mother.) Juno is what creepy old men would call a “firecracker”. She’s got a hamburger phone! And she loves obscure punk rock! She also fires out witty one liners with a fury! Actually that was pretty much everyone. It most cases it worked, but in some it didn’t…mostly when Rainn Wilson was blurting them out. Felt a little too Gilmore Girls at some point, no one’s on the ball that often. It was also reminiscent of Clueless and Heathers, it felt like one of those movies that really tries to break out new slang among the teenage masses. As if. Diet Cokeheads. It’ll be very! <– sooo bad. Will Home Skillet reeeally make a comeback though? For reals?
Juno, of course, has a quirky little posse and a quirky little family: J.K. Simmons aka Schillinger aka the racist ass rapist (say that 3 times real fast!) is her wise cracking supportive father. We’re not in Oz anymore Toto! And after watching Michael Cera’s performance I have come to the conclusion that he plays the same character in every movie/show. But strangely enough…I like it every time! He does this stammer/lisp thing that turns every sentence that he utters into a punchline.
Juno: Your little girlfriend gave me the stinkeye in art class yesterday.
Bleeker: Katrina’s n-not my girlfriend alright? A-and I doubt she gave you the ssstinkeye t-that’s just how her face looksss, you know? T-That’s jussst her face.
Oh the hilarity!
So yeah…watch it if you haven’t yet.