Nee, fok, ek is nie van Manenberg nie!


Tonight I once again realised how far away I am from being the quintessential Coloured girl: I don’t cook, or not readily; I have all my front teeth and do not want to remove them; at the ripe old age of 25 I am still child-less, and plan to remain thus; I stay in a la-di-da area and have regular dinner parties where my guests consume less than a bottle of wine and I do not have a Coloured boyfriend.

I’m sorry, mommy. True, there was a stage where I would have been feeling pretty shit about all of that, but these days, I tend not to give a damn. Or, when I do, I give less than a damn. See, I have become Coloured in other ways: I swear. Loudly, too. And I use really vulgar language when I do so! Someone would be forgiven for thinking I’m from Manenberg or Bonteheuwel when they hear me swearing! Not that there’s anything wrong with people from those areas…

I realised this a couple of weeks back when Victor and I were at the local flea market. Some kid accosted me, and called me antie. Now, there’s only one person in this whole world I would forgive when they call me antie. But she’s still only two months old… so I don’t have much hope of that happening very soon. This kid who called me antie got the shock of his life (Victor also, methinks) when I shut him up by telling him not to ever call me that.

If you mess with me, you will be forced to re-think your prejudices about me. I have been known to wear properse designer labels (No Levi’s for moi, thank you oh so much) on the odd occasion, but I can also show my earthy side when provoked. So, though I may not appear it from the outside, you would do very badly in a verbal fight with this coloured girl…


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