Darkie

I recently attended a youth group meeting where the youth leader called out "darkies" as a greeting. This was a merely a greeting and the other black people I was with seemed not make much of it. It was after all a "joke". Besides we are all brothers in Christ. Equals. All that hullabaloo on race should not matter because this is the new SA. We are all equal now. This was not racism. This was church. There is no racism at church now is there.

Much to my surprise, I did not react as I always thought I would if I should ever encounter racism face to face. With anger or, if I was composed enough, a ruthless but calm criticism of his blatant racism disguised as familiarity. I did none of these things. I really am not sure if it was the Holy Spirit that held my tongue or if it was the fear of disturbing the peace and tampering what promised to be a fun (and it was, despite that rocky start) and spiritually fulfilling evening.

What I do know for sure is how I felt at the time. I felt scared. No really. I was scared. I was in his territory. As exciting as it was, leaving my Westrand township to interact join the mostly-white social circle of North, it was daunting for me as an introvert. White faces, have always been daunting to me if I may be honest. I don't know if it is an insecurity of my own making that makes me feel slightly less confident amongst my white counterparts, of it is the reality of every black child. To feel as though their piece of earth is slightly less firmer in the presence of an overly-friendly yet slightly less genuine white face.

I am not afraid of white people. This I am very sure of. I was however, in that moment afraid of being in that space. I was afraid to say anything to him. The confidence with which he said those words scared me. That he should not know that a black child, already uncomfortable in that white-dominated space, would take these words straight to the heart? A devastating blow to the limited supply of confidence? That scared me. I don't want to ask stupid questions here but indulge me this one: Is this why white people have black friends? As a sort of punching bag for racist remarks such as "darkies"?

Now I know I could have tried to talk to him or tell him that remark bothered me but, I already knew what his defence would be. "It was all in good fun, hey guys? No one else seems to mind it." Or, if luck had really deserted me, the classic "I have black friends."

Another stupid question, if you don't mind: Is this the reason white people have black friends?  As a sort of alibi against allegations of racism?

I can just imagine the scene:

"Sir, where you when this racist remark was made?"
"I was making another equally racist remark with my Black Friend"

Forgive me I let my mind wander for a moment there, but could you imagine if Black Friend was actually an acceptable alibi for racism.

What was even more confusing and unnerving was that he did not seem to notice who he was talking to. He didn't even stop he just called out "darkies" when me and my party and arrived while simultaneously combining the hot chocolate ingredients he was going to serve us later (the cream was heart-shaped, as if the situation was not confusing enough). This was not hatred, I figured over days of confusing and laborious pondering.But, if he did not hate me, why did he call me that?

If I was really another worthless "Darkie", why did he not say it like he meant it. Why did he expect me to find pleasure, or even humour, in a name that demeaned , humiliated and hurt me? Why is it alright that after having travelled across three countries on my own with limited contact to all that I held dear, I come to encounter racism in a church, on a Friday night and from the person who claims to love us and want to teach is about Jesus all through the night? I sound like an abuse victim, I know but it is all so damn confusing! Who raises their child to go out and call people hurtful words like that? A church leader for that matter.

I think that i maybe didn't want to lose the security of knowing that somebody else was responsible for me for those two and a half hours and who knows what would have happened if I spoke out. I was really happy there despite that first shock. I suppose I am sounding like an abuse victim again. A helpless victim who can't even help herself. I apologise for this is not the strong Black woman my mother raised. A manifestation of Adieche's Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions. If only it was the Handbook on Resisting the Pressure to succumb to racism to make life easier....or something like that.

l also realise that my reaction was neither becoming nor fitting for a Proud Black person whose role models include Malcolm X, Steve Biko, Betty Davis and all the other black pride champions. But like I said before, the night turned out perfectly. I got what I came for, forgot my worries and responsibilities for a while, got a deeper look at what it means to have the holy Spirit within you. Our team won the marshmallow eating contest and we were all happy. I went home with a smile and a lot to talk about. Everyone was happy and the night could be written off as successful..

I do wonder though, even now, if it is okay that for those few seconds after he said "Darkies" I felt that I'd be much safer crossing the Ramogwebana Border alone in torn takkies than in this warm room with these well-meaning Christians who laughed away a word that stripped away my humanity and identified me as a species of animal,  a darkie.