Lockdown: Week 11

The days of lockdown have rolled into weeks and the weeks, months. I have laughed, cried, learnt, loved, reflected, and fallen in love with the little quirks in my routine of daily activities.

Between work and my business I am starting to wear thin like stretchy Taffy. A post on FB about a farm murder triggered such a hurtful response from someone and it got me thinking about Collins Khosa and George Floyd and about how much anger, division and hate there is in our world.

I’ve been reflecting on my own interactions with my black friends recently and how I make them feel. How my ignorance, privilege and my lifestyle makes them feel. Yes, I work hard and have achieved a lot, but I did it on the back of privilege. I am not black, I am charmingly Indian and that has allowed me to sit on the fence of the black and white debate far too long. Watching.

And I want to apologize.

For missing the mark and not understanding how challenging it is for a black man to live in this world. To be exploited in the workplace and underpaid when you and your white colleague do the exact same job.

I want to apologize for every person who’s likened you to a monkey, with no brain and a big nose. You are beautiful.

I’m sorry for the words that cut and make you bleed. I’m sorry if you’ve ever walked into a showroom and quizzed a salesperson about a car, only to be dismissed because of your ‘look’. You are important.

I’m sorry for the bullets that you dodge on a daily basis. I’m sorry for the countless times you’ve raised your hand and contributed meaningfully to a project and weren’t taken seriously. Your opinion matters.

I’m sorry if you’ve ever been followed through aisles in stores because your blackness intimidated the security guard and your favorite beanie made him think you’re poor. Don’t stop styling.

I’m sorry that you have to pay for your parent’s home and your siblings tuition because there was nothing extra in your parent’s kitty to invest in a pension or save. Your strength is admired.

I’m sorry for the anxiety when I host dinner parties and you have to alter your language to suit me and my guests. I appreciate you.

Most of all, I’m sorry for not taking the time to ever say sorry. Or taking it for granted that you will automatically be altering your personality to suit me and my happy ecosystem.