Emily E decipering her Cape Town experiences

It’s taken me a lot of time to decipher my journey in Cape Town. I feel like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz who was swept up into a land of vibrant colors and adventure. Then suddenly my journey is over and I’m back in the land of black and white. Everything suddenly feels…flat. As much as I wanted to thrill seeking activities, it was never my original intention when visiting South Africa. It was always meant to be life transforming for me physically, mentally and spiritually. Even if I did skydiving or shark cage diving, my experience would be just as fulfilling if I didn’t do those things.

I don’t come from a suburban area, I live in Bridgeport, CT--one of CT’s most distressed cities. My neighborhood isn’t exactly safe. Drug dealings are common on my street; oddly it’s happened right outside my doorway. In general, there have been numerous murders in Bridgeport since the beginning of this year. I’m used to being on my toes, and it was a habit I brought with me to Cape Town. It seemed as though many of my housemates were uncomfortable with constantly being aware of their surroundings for their safety. Because of that, some couldn’t wait to return home--to return to safety. I wish I could have said the same. I’m not sad about it; it is just the way things are. For the first time in my entire life, I felt like I was living the life of luxury in Cape Town. My money stretched far so I was able to do things I wouldn’t normally do at home. I lived in a beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood. Every day I woke up to mountains, palm trees and the fresh breeze.  Here in at home the area is stale and I feel claustrophobic. Sometimes, South Africa feels like a distant dream.

Because we were all told what coming home will be like for us, I expected my family and friends to not understand the entirety of my experience. So I didn’t dive into too much detail when it came to certain topics because I knew it was something they all had to witness themselves. Then graduation day came and I wasn’t that excited for it. I arrived to the UConn campus and I felt disconnected. I realized I said goodbye to this place a long time ago. The ceremony wasn’t what I expected to be either, very impersonal in my opinion. However, what made it worthwhile was sitting next to a good friend of mine and discussing my study abroad experience and personal transfiguration. On my way home I went to a nearby Walgreens to pick up a few things; meanwhile, I’m still wearing my cap and gown with my South African sash. When I approached the register, two young women caught my attention. One of them asked me “Are you from South Africa?” “No,” I said, “But I lived there for awhile and I just came back a week ago.” The woman beamed with happiness and said she and her friend were South African. She asked all about my stay there and appreciated how much I loved the country. Then she said, “Next time you visit, go to Durban! That’s where I’m from!” I had never been so happy to meet two strangers, but at the same time they weren’t. They were extremely friendly and for a few moments I felt like I was taken right back in South Africa.

My view of the United States has deteriorated as more events of social injustice continue to occur. I’ve never felt like a true American, and I feel like people who look like me never will be treated as such especially when no one protects their right to life and liberty. As much as I want to abandon this place, I have an obligation to make some type of impact to turn things around in this country.

"We weep for the blood of a bird, but not for the blood of a fish. Blessed are those with voice"- Mamoru Oshii

Emily on Graduation Day

Emily E wonders how time went by so quickly

I honestly wondered how the time went by. When I was complying photos of orientation human rights, weekend, and the Homestay in Oceanview for the symposium, it still felt so fresh. I’m not good at saying goodbye; at this point, I’m pretty sure I’ll be back to South Africa a few times more in my lifetime. Lately I’ve been taking advantage of the small things--I’ve been looking at the sunset from our house; watching as the clouds weave through the mountains. When I come home, I’ll be 8 days away from graduation, a day I thought would never come. I’m afraid and excited to come home. However, I know how different things will be and notice how different I’ve become to my surroundings.

Emily E considers the horrors . . . and goodness . . . of which humanity is capable

Jessica, Molly, Vernon, Bernie Emily L, Julia, Maria
Taylor L, Taylor P, Sam, Christina, John,
Emily E, Onna, Dani, Caitlin, Jill, Ashlyn, Becca

 Our excursion showed me how horrid humanity can be on this Earth, while beauty can exist within that will bring us together. I have to say, going to Johannesburg to visit museums in particular stirred a lot of mixed emotions--mostly sad ones. The Apartheid Museum was more than I expected. It gave a good overview of the history of the country and what is it possible for the future. At one part of the museum we came across a hall of nooses that were dangling from the ceiling. They weren’t the typical noose; it consisted of two loops instead of one. We were told that second loop would ensure the person suffocated if their neck did not break. This was not the only one time I struggled to hold back tears. Constitution Hill exhibited the horrors of prison life amongst men classified as Black, Colored and Indian. One of the things we were told about the prison was that the prison was not meant to rehabilitate, it was meant to punish. That statement in itself sums up the treatment they received. The Hector Peterson Museum was not a guided tour, but the videos and written testimonies about his death and the Soweto Uprising spoke for themselves. It is beyond unfortunate that these youths died for believing in a future of equality and peace. By the time we visited Sharpeville; I couldn’t help but be disgusted by what humanity is capable of. As I stood by the graves of 69 individuals who died during the massacre of 1960, I was angry about those who died during the struggle had a lasting impact on those they left behind. I’ve learned so many dark histories of many countries--they are all different but strangely similar. Humanity can be calculative and cruel; but, it is easily balanced by those who do right and learn from our past. Our internships have definitely shown that side and it’s a good reminder what’s in store for the future. 

Emily (center) listens to tour guide Alice at Sharpeville.

Emily E learning about South African hair culture

I finally let my natural hair out in Cape Town. It was bound to happen, and honestly, I was excited for the reactions I garnered during the week I’d let it out. As I’ve said before I love the natural state of my hair, but that was put into question.

           

Like I’ve said in an old posting, the typical style of those classified Colored and Black are braids or chemically straightened hair. Obviously my hair would stand out for being in it’s fro, especially at my internship and UCT. At my internship, the teenage girls thought it was so hip and were amazed at its length. One of them said because it was so long that it was time to chemically straighten my hair. I was stunned and told her kindly I would never go back to relaxers. However, the adult females’ reactions were slightly different. They did not say much and when they did it was strange. For instance, one of them asked if I purposely meant to have my hair in a curly fro. When I said yes, she laughed nervously as if to double check that I wasn’t having a bad hair day or something like that. After that happened, I felt very self-conscious. I quickly made a hair tie, ran to bathroom and put up my hair. For the first time in a while I felt ashamed of my hair texture, but I quickly recovered. Throughout the week, this one boy kept persisting I should relax my hair or iron it at the very least. To be honest, I was annoyed because I tried telling him I had no desire to. I never struggled so much to defend how I took care of my hair. Twice I had to explain what the natural hair movement meant in the U.S., and I don’t think the girls I told understand its significance.

We, as ethnic girls, have been systemically set up to try to match the beauty of white females. It’s damaging and stressful on our well-beings because we know it’s impossible. I’m not saying I’m against women who do relax their hair. Many know how take to care of their natural texture, but they personally choose to do so because they prefer the style. However, I’m against the fact that it’s been pushed on us so much that it is no longer a personal choice. It’s to make us “blend in”, and so we are uncomfortable with our racial/ethnical characteristics.  I’m almost happy that I did this experiment of sorts because it taught me a lot about South Africa’s hair culture. While this was going on I wondered when South African women of color will join this hair movement. I believe it will happen, but there is no telling when.

Emily L's work with girls beyond the classroom

The action has slowed for the past weeks here in Cape Town. I was supposed to go skydiving, but it became too windy for us to jump. I almost miss the excitement and pace of orientation but it is to be expected. I am certainly not complaining--this means that I’m truly embracing life here day by day. Also, I have no doubt it will pick again once we go to Johannesburg for our excursion.

This past week the director at my internship asked if I’d be interested in working at the school’s hostel. I agreed and I came later than I usually would for work. He wanted me to get familiar with the many aspects of City Mission, and I couldn’t agree more. The hostel houses many of the students that attend the school during the weekdays. I mostly hung out with the girls. I’ve worked with a few of them at the school so it was nice seeing them out of uniform. They asked the standard questions--how old am I, what my school year was and what America is like. I asked about their background; they all came from the Delft Township. I had visited there two weeks prior so I had an idea where they came from. There is a lot of informal housing there--many of the homes are constructed with tin and scrap. When I visited, I sat in a large tent that served as a church there and was told about the gang violence and the child prostitution that occurs. I silently thanked God that these children at CMES were spared from it during the weekdays at the hostel. Instead of tutoring them on their English they asked me to draw a picture of a woman who worked at their hostel. She passed away weeks ago at the age of 28, and let a toddler behind who was running around the kitchen. As I drew her, I thought if I visited the hostel a month ago maybe I would have met this woman that greatly impacted the lives of these children.

Emily E on women's worldwide struggle to obtain respect

It sucks being a woman...sometimes. Let me start by saying I am fully aware and love my curviness, pose and the inherent beauty that comes with being a woman. However (as many of you may know) it attracts attention whether you want it or not. Most women have heard the catcalls; the lingering eyes that go everywhere except your face.  We all can say it is the most uncomfortable thing in the world--this ‘intrusion’ in your personal bubble can be felt from across the street. In my hometown, I roll my eyes at these instances because what else is there do. As badly as I want to slap them in the face it goes against my principles, and I don’t want my mother bailing me out of jail.  I don’t know what made me think that this sort of thing would not follow me here to South Africa. Boy was I wrong! Since week one I’ve gotten numerously catcalled.  On the minibus on the way to internship, in the supermarket….There are construction workers by my internship site that constantly try to get my attention so I keep my gaze forward. One time I was standing for the minibus and one larger bus pulled up. A man was looking out the window and licked his lips at me. The nerve! I honestly am more unnerved about these things because an incident that happened to me on the city bus at home; but, that makes this even more important to discuss.

Women in all corners of the world are not immune to these experiences, and we are raised to expect these scenarios simply for being a woman. But this is the worst thing that girls have to grow up with. From one of my favorite shows the L Word, one of the main characters Jenny exposes her male roommate Mark for secretly filming her and her female companions’ escapades in the house.

Jenny: “Do you have any sisters?”
Mark: “Yes, I have two younger sisters.”
Jenny: “Okay. I want you to ask them a question. And the most important thing is that you really listen to their answer. I want you to ask your sisters about the very first time that they were intruded upon by some man or a boy.”
Mark: “What makes you think that my sisters have been intruded upon?”
Jenny: “Because there isn’t a single girl or woman in this world that hasn’t been intruded upon, and sometimes it’s relatively benign, and sometimes it’s so painful. But you have no idea what this feels like.”

Some of the male learners at my internship have asked personal questions about my love life and gave a few stare downs. As much as I hate it, I cannot completely fault them for doing so. It is what society has taught the young male population. Men are in control, and they are pleased to whatever they wish to when it comes to women.  There seems to be progression with gender equality since the Apartheid in South Africa; however, violence against women is still an issue. The instances of rape are very severe in townships like Khayelitsha, and the prostitution of young girls in Delft. However, this doesn’t make their scenario different from the acid attacks on women in places like the Middle East and South East Asia. We are in the 21^st century and women are still struggling to obtain respect and equality in the world.