I remember the innocence of my childhood, the ignorance of not understanding the magnitude of the colour of my skin. I never imagined that my skin would pose such a threat to those around me later on in my life. I never imagined the associations people would make of my skin before I even opened my mouth. I never knew that my skin would be violent.
I remember that I was a tomboy always wearing corduroy pants; I had them in all the colours available. I never knew what ‘wearing the pants’ actually meant. I never realised that even if I ‘wear the pants’ now, it doesn’t hold the same value as what I always thought it would.
I remember never having to negotiate who I was.
I remember never having to negotiate my existence.
I remember viewing the world as my utopia.
I remember family gatherings and Christmas shopping.
I remember Sunday School, falling asleep in church and Christmas plays.
I remember family trips to the beach and to new destinations.
I remember fainting at the zoo in Durban.
I remember always being too short for rides… I still am.
I remember spring cleaning in December as well as houses still smelling like fresh paint in January.
I remember the value of a 50 cent.
I remember the satisfaction of drinking Bibo on a Summer’s Day.
I remember Bubaloo bubble gum’s flavour only lasting for 10 glorious seconds.
I remember being camera-shy, afraid of the lens people were seeing me through.
I remember the safety.
I remember the protection.
I remember the fearlessness.
I remember the lack of stress.
I remember wanting to be a lawyer and having dreams of changing the world, never thinking about how the world would change me.
I remember the importance of personal contact.
I remember the purity of friendship and love.
I remember being loved unconditionally.
I remember a childhood of blissful ignorance.