Dinner and a movie??

Last night I got to enjoy a great meal and an even better conversation with Lipa, although I was doubtful at the start. I was feeling lazy because of the rain but I knew I couldn’t let Lipa down after how kind he has been to me during my stay in Kasane. So once the rain let up I put on my wet jeans and shoes, because I don’t have any other clothes (now that’s a major shock!) and I started my walk to town.

Walking in Botswana is always a big deal, everyone stares at me, which might not seem like a big thing but after 4 months of always being stared at and harassed as you walk down the street you get sick of greeting people and just wish to be a nobody on the street again.

I have said it before but men in Botswana make these walks the worst. The hello’s and how are you’s are fine but the where are you going I can take you there the fact that they try to grab my hand or arm so I have to slow down to talk makes me mad. I’d understand I’m a stranger in town but DAMN I’m not the interesting to look at and if I make it obvious I’m not interested why persist?

So my street harassment hit an all time high on my way to Lipa’s. It’s month end, Saturday and 5 o’clock and I have to walk past the bar not a great mix. I make it past the bar with much notice, but then it happens. Hello! … Hey! … HEY I’m TALKING TO YOU! … (I try to just keep walk) … I’m saying hello to you white girl! … (fuck leave me alone) … HEY YOU FAKE WHITE STOP I’M TALKING TO YOU… (Are you kidding me?) … HEY YOU FAKE WHITE! FAKE WHITE BITCH I’M…

I’m not sure for how long this man yelled at me as I continued to walk but I knew how much I wanted to say fuck off. I was mad to be bothered but even more offended by the fake white. Never in my life have I tried to claim my whiteness yet it is always thrown in my face. My skin tone, my hair, the way I speak (properly), my dress, mannerisms. All things that have been called white washed, not black enough. From all sides for my whole life, my race has made it so I can’t just be a nobody walking down the street. Everyone feels entitle to a say on my race and how I present it.

Coming to Botswana and being told for the first time in my life that not only to I “act” white but I am white. That I’m just as much as a lekoga as the other students on my trip was hard to understand and take on. The idea of race in Botswana is so different from in the states. Yet it was still clear that I was not white “white” has one of my host mothers put it. So still not enough. Still a rough spot in people schemes of race and assumptions.

As I continued to make my way to Lipa’s house I fumed internally about the injustice of it all. I’m a woman so I must want your catcalls. I am “white” so I must have money to give you. I’m a “colored” so I must think I am better than others. I’m an American so I must stand out. I am walking the streets so I must deal it the harassment. I must keep my muttering of asshole to myself because of what I am and where I am and the danger that the attention I must take comes with. I must smile and nod. I must say hello and understand your questions. I must take your judgment.

Judgment, race, politics, family, relationships, drama, dreams, education … Life

Lipa and I talked about it all our fish and movie night turned into and all night debate. I learned a lot and after months of not speaking much, observing a lot, it was so refreshing to free share ideas. Organic life talks.