There’s a freedom, though, in being forever the outsider that I’ve come to embrace. I can define my life without the confines of the norm. My life is truly mine, since no one expects anything from me and at the same time will expect anything from me. What freedom there is in that! It has been a liberating way for me.
I’m not sure anymore what racism actually is. It has become cloudy and blurred. We are different. That can’t change. Is it wrong to be curious by things we don’t know, things that are different? Can we blame someone for being blinded by that difference if they are not familiar with it? I’ve come to believe that we can’t. I can’t blame that little girl so long ago staring at the the black people at the river and I can’t blame the dusty children of my new home pointing fingers at the lekgoa. Maybe it’s just as simple as getting to know each other, spending time together, looking a bit further than the colour. Maybe its just that, nothing more and nothing even a slight bit less than that.
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