Dearest friend
We have known each other for many years. Over a decade in fact. We have lost and gained friends in our group but at the core of it all I have always had you. You are my other half who happens to be white. Your parents love me and mine love you. After years of friendship I should find this easy to say but I don’t. So let me try to say it now. I’m black. I know that you can see that because you have 20:20 vision plus you have a good relationship with differentiating colors so clearly that isn’t all to the story. I am the black friend. This means so much more than my skin. This means so much more than your skin. It talks about my culture and where I come from. It talks about social injustices and inequality. The one thing that has come to the forefront of my mind is that we are so different and you refuse to accept that. When I stand up for a black person I don’t mean to say that I hate white people. I also want you to understand that when you say something like, “oh my gosh, I wish that my hair could do that” in reference to my straightened Afro – it may not sound as great to my ear as it did coming out of your mouth. The hair that crowns my head was never a topic of discussion while it was in its natural kinky state. But, the moment it conformed to the beauty standard set out hundreds of years ago it became desirable. That is similar to me being your friend isn’t it? If I were not as eloquent as I am would you still want me as your friend in public? I’ve overheard you telling people – I am your friend and then reassuring them that I am not like other black people. The thing is that I don’t know how to approach these issues with you. We are at this place where our friendship has history and my black consciousness is a new thing. I want to be able to reconcile my feelings towards my skin, my culture, my beliefs and my support of black people while being able to have you as a close confidant. In the new year you may see the direction of my conversation changing towards you. This isn’t because I am trying to make you feel uncomfortable but rather to make you aware of the bigger picture. We are going to be catapulted into a new part of our friendship because I am tired of walking on eggshells when it comes to race. Sincerely, Hulisani
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Dear Sugar Daddy.
Last month we celebrated Christmas. It was probably a difficult month for you. I mean you have your wife at home to buy gifts for as well as your own kids and extended family that may live on your property. Crucial to that however you can’t forget that you have your sugar baby waiting on the sidelines. All year you have showered her with gifts and December really shouldn’t have been any different. In fact, considering the standard that you have set during the year I expect that Sugar Baby was going to be hopeful for a pricey gift. It goes without saying that you may not have seen Sugar Baby a lot during this festive period for many reasons including the fact that your wife is at home 24/7 or because Sugar Baby has been sent to visit granny for the holidays. I mean, she is only 16 after all and needs to culture relationships with her cousins. On the off chance that you do see Sugar Baby this holiday may I please make you aware of an interesting report released by ONE.org in October. These statistics in the report were shocking and I’m positive that you must have seen them since you are engaging in transactional sex with a minor. Actually, I shouldn’t even sugar coat it and should rather call you out for your behaviour. When you have sex with a minor it is actually rape. Before you tell me that it wasn’t rape just don’t. She is a minor, you are a major which means that her ‘consent’ doesn’t count with you. End of story. Don’t bring it up again. So, on the off chance that you do manage the chance to rape your Sugar Baby please take into account that these are the statistics. In South Africa 800 girls between the ages of 15-19 are infected with HIV per week. Per week. 800 girls. 800. Let us break down the numbers since your good at juggling them to support so many people off of your salary. A year has on average 365 days. 800 girls for every week would give us a total of 41 600 new infections per year. This is just for the age group of 15-19. I’m not saying that you infected all these girls, or that you have infected any girl at all because that would be ludicrous and could amount to a law suit for defamation of character. What I am saying is that 41 600 is a big number. Any you contributing even 1 more to that statistic it too much. Even if you are ‘paying for it’. However, I am not all doom and gloom and if you insist on spending money on young girls may be the first to request you to donate money to these organizations They both help distribute sanitary products to girls who are in situations that don’t allow them to use such. As a result of inaccessibility on average these girls lose up to 60 days of school because they can’t attend as they are menstruating. This is a ridiculous over-site by our government because by not being proactive they are enabling a society which consistently puts female rights in the back burner. So I hope you did the right thing last Christmas and did not rape a girl but rather gave a girl access to her full schooling career and reduce her risk of contracting HIV. Sincerely, Hulisani Dear Me (4 years ago)
I have decided to write this to you in hopes that if time travel works or if there is an alternate universe that is years behind us exists that this letter will reach you. I want to start by telling you the biggest secret which I have learned this past year and a half. If you think that you can’t wear something then you will never be able to wear it. Think about it Huli. There are some girls who are smaller than you who would never be caught dead wearing that miniskirt you love so much meanwhile jeans just aren’t your thing. You have never really had a specific style and at 25 you still don’t have one. Sorry. At some point in the next few years you will try to execute certain things that will fail miserably but believe me, that is for your own good because once you learn that certain styles just aren’t you then you can move on from them. Keep on keeping on with the experimentation but remember, if you aren’t comfortable in it then don’t wear it. Follow people on social media who you inspire to dress like but don’t be disappointed when crop tops and high-waist pants don’t feel right on you. Believe me you will fall in love with crop tops and high-waist skirts. Take plenty of pictures and wear the outfit at home first to get an idea of how it feels when you sit and when you get up to make tea. Those are very important things when you are 25. The pictures will help you to see the outfit from different angles. Wearing clothes is a mental exercise and there is nothing less attractive than a girl you keeps on pulling down her skirt because she thinks that it is too short. You did that a few times and believe me it was not a good look. You knew that dress was too short for you to feel comfortable all day in and yet you still wore it so suck it up and stop hurting the poor fabric! Also, stop waiting for your “perfect body” to wear the clothes that you love. Just buy them in your size and wear it with confidence. It is your body and not the worlds. Like seriously. Wear the shorts because heat waves are a real thing and trying to cover up just to save someone else’s eyes from your cellulite will be sweat inducing exercise. Lastly I just want to remind you again. If you think that you can’t wear something then you will never be able to wear it. Get over your mental blocks and you will turn out okay babe. Love, Me Dear Olivia
I wanted to write this to you and tell you how thankful I am that I finally met you. When we first interacted in the middle of last year I didn’t think that we would be chatting daily. After tagging you incorrectly on my natural hair page (AfroHealthSA) you corrected me but then still went on to follow the page. Soon after that you followed my private account and as I usually do, I followed back. A few weeks later you sent me a direct message and asked if you could do a post about me on your website. As we chatted through emails I found that you were a nice human being. My gut told me that you were genuine and when you mentioned your desire to come to South Africa I gave you my number and told you to send me a message if you didn’t think I was too weird. I kind of expected you to just say thank you and never make use of my number, but I soon found out that you were actually happy to have it. Two weeks later we were talking every day for most of the day on WhatsApp about our normal lives. Very soon after that came the tagging on Instagram every time we saw a funny picture or a lovely quote. We discovered that we had a similar sense of humor and it became effortless to talk about all things under the sun. We went from being acquaintances on social media to becoming great friends online. As we continued to talk you would bring up South Africa more and ask about what I thought of certain places. Being that I am a local and you are from Tanzania I was able to recommend you about the logistics visiting certain sites. I must say though, my first and then recurring thought was that you were absolutely crazy. Who visits a country where the only point of reference is a stranger that they met online? What if I was a serial killer who preys on Instagram girls? After many mails about accommodation and transport details you were booked and ready for your travels. We had arranged that I was to meet you the day after your arrival when you had finished a hot air balloon sunrise experience. I drove to the venue at the approximate time that you had advised me to arrive and waited in my car. I sent up a prayer hoping that this wasn’t an elaborate plan to try and kidnap me and sell me on the black market and then sent you a message that I had arrived. What followed was a day at the Harties Zoo and then a drive to Sandton to find your accommodation. After a bit of a mishap and location changes we managed to book you in and went for supper and drinks where we met up with a few of my closest friends. You spent a few more days in the area and managed to make friends everywhere that you went with such ease and grace that I was in awe. To this day I haven’t really told you how that experience changed my life. I doubt that I will be meeting any new friends in the same way but rest assured that I am not completely closed off to the idea. I am so lucky to have made such a good friend and for that I will always thank that you slid into my DM’s. Love you, Hulisani Dear Friend,
A few months ago we bumped into each other after not seeing or speaking for more than a few years. Remember that wedding. How we sat at the back talking as we waited for the proceedings to begin? We used to be in class together. Actually, I was in class as you bunked and somehow you always ended up with better notes than me and managed to pass effortlessly. While we sat at the wedding together we shared stories of how getting service at some of the courts was a practice in patience and assertiveness. I told you that even though you think that service is bad, it is nothing compared to trying to get service as a black female, when the person serving you refuses to help you because you speak English. You didn’t comment and in fact swiftly moved on to the next “safe” topic. After the wedding ceremony, we waited for pictures to be taken and there was further discussion of how you were quickly rising up ranks at your firm. I mentioned that I have had a hard time getting people to take me seriously in wanting to become a human rights lawyer. I even aired the fact that being a female has prospective employers asking me what my marital status is. You see, they want to know if in the near future I may be having a child as that may put a spanner in their well-oiled plans, but you didn’t want to know that and rather asked if I had watched the last big soccer game where the national team lost, again. Pictures were taken and food was served. We sat around the table and for the third time work came up. This time you asked me why I work for a small firm. I told you that black women in large firms get swallowed up in the works and aren’t recognized for their personal brilliance and rather for how many points they can score the company in terms of equity practices. Here you didn’t let it go. Nope, this time you loudly said, “Wow! That’s the third time you are mentioning that you are a black woman in the professional world. Doesn’t it get tiring?” Being that we were at a wedding I held my tongue because I didn’t think that the other guests would have appreciated the only black girl at the wedding living up to her stereotype and giving you a tongue lashing. Rest assured though that there were plenty of things that I wanted to say. For one. Screw you and all your white privilege that you dare to tell me that I shouldn’t acknowledge that I am a black woman who is a professional. Do you know that I have actually lost count of the several times that I have stood at the front of the line just to get a few papers stamped only to be cut off by a senior practitioner because he is white and thinks that he is entitled to do such? In theory he IS charging MUCH more for his time, so we could say that his time is more valuable than mine. Although, there is that little matter that when we both die one day we will both be consumed by the same worms? Or perhaps his white privilege has discovered a way to forego the whole decay process in that time he didn’t spend in the line. Second of all, yes I was offended when I was asked about my marital status because I know exactly how dog-whistle politics work. And no I don’t want to become black number 4 on the statistics of the company and the smile that welcomes people on the website while we all know that I get paid half of the money that I actually deserve and that I actually worked hard for. Lastly, you don’t get to tell me or any other person of color that we can’t talk about something that has a bearing on our lives. Yes it may make you feel uncomfortable but I’m willing to bet that slavery and apartheid were both a bit more than “uncomfortable”. Unfortunately I didn’t get to say this in the moment and for that I will always be a bit sad. Guess what though? We are friends on Facebook and I will re-post this multiple times. I hope you get to read this and feel awful. Sincerely, Hulisani Dear ‘New Person’
RE: The reappropriation of my name. My name is Hulisani and I am reappropriating my name in a passive aggressive manner. Now let us start with the definition of what reappropriation is. - In sociology and cultural studies, reappropriation or reclamation is the cultural process by which a group reclaims—re-appropriates—terms or artifacts that were previously used in a way disparaging of that group. (Thank you Wikipedia) And in case you don’t know what disparaging means then here is another definition. - Expressing the opinion that something is of little worth (thanks again Wiki) So if we read the meaning of reappropriation again here is what we get. - Reappropriation entails reclaiming something that was previously used in a way that gave it little worth. Ah. So how does reappropriation fit in with my name ‘New Person’? Let me show you exhibit A: a typical conversation that many people who don’t have names found on keyrings would relate to. Me : hi, what’s your name? New Person : I’m Jessica. People call me Jess. And you? Me : I’m Hulisani. New Person : oh? Say that again? Me : Hulisani. Who-lee-saa-knee. Hulisani. New Person : Who- sunny? Don’t you have another name? Me : Nope, just the one. New Person : And any nicknames? Me : Nope, not anymore. New Person : So you used to have one? (Insert a glimmer of hope in ‘new person’s’ eyes) Me : Yes, when I was younger people called me Smurf. New Person : oooh. Okay. I’ll call you that. [On a side note this is the point where I scream internally because you, ‘New Person’, didn’t even try.] Okay so let’s go back to that definition of reappropriation. - Reappropriation entails reclaiming something that was previously used in a way that gave it little worth. See how in Exhibit A you decided within seconds of hearing my name that you already wanted an alternative? You wanted to disregard what I had said about my given name. My ‘useful tag’ that separates me from the next person was simply done away with in favour of another tag that had no relation to my existence. By doing away with my name you gave my name no worth at all. But who is to blame here? Let’s start with my parents. Of ALL the names in the book of ‘Baby Names for Girls’ they chose Hulisani. Really now parents? Unfortunately for you, ‘New Person’, my parents aren’t to blame. My name means ‘give respect to’. The full sentence from which my name originates means ‘give respect to God’/ ‘Lift up God’. Coming from a Christian family it is clear to see that my parents chose well. 10/10 parents! That leaves only two people. Myself and said ‘new Person’. Let’s start with me. At the point in the conversation where nicknames were mentioned I should have stood my ground and not elected to bring up past nicknames because I was trying to stay away from it. That is my fault and I should have respectfully asked you to try and say my name again a few times so that you could get it right. Even if it is just for the next 10 minutes followed by a lifetime of, "Oh hey friend" because you have forgotten my name. However in this you situation you didn’t really try. There are some people who do and after a few attempts I give them an alternative which is the shortened version of my name – Huli. You, ‘New Person’, don’t get that courtesy because my name wasn’t ‘easy’ enough for you to go through the effort of repeating it more than once. It baffles me to no end that learning a difficult European name is simpler than learning an easy African name. How is Novak Djokovic easier than Lerato Dube? In light of these above observations I have made the decision to reappropriate my name. I will no longer answer to Smurf, Smurfie, Smurfette or any variation of names that doesn’t even remotely sound like my name because that is not who I am. I hope this finds you well. Best Regards, Hulisani |
hulisaniIntersectional Feminist. Hopeless Romantic. Lover of Life. Archives
January 2017
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