I remember

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.


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