Mary- Jane...I used to love her

I had a friend not so long ago...Mary-Jane was her name. I used to love spending time with her. She was a natural beauty. I never knew our relationship could blossom into the beautiful friendship that we had. She was not my type, she was the girl my mother warned me about. She was hated by many and loved by just as much. They used to talk about our friendship. They'd ask what's a good girl like me doing with the likes of Mary-Jane. They didn't know her like I knew her. Mary-Jane was my friend, she was there when I was up, she was there when I was down, she was always there when I needed her. She was never too busy. She was like Jarule, always there when I called and always on time. She gave me her all as well. Sometimes she would be mean to me but that never ended our friendship, in fact it made it stronger. It made me love her more because I would be surprised of what she is capable of. aaaaaaah Mary we were good together. I used to hate it though when you thought you were in control of me. You used to stand as a tower above me and make me sleep when I didn't want to, be quiet, distant and sometimes laugh for no apparent reason. Damn you Mary, but I aint mad, I used to enjoy that. When we were together I was convinced that the best times in life were High. Mary was a good friend of mine ,with her satisfaction was guaranteed all the time. Unfortunately all good things come to an end so I had to end my friendship with the lovely Mary. I gave her the speech: Look BABE,it's not you but definitely me. You have been nothing but good to me but I can't do this anymore. I need space, I need a reality check. I need to be my own person and stop being dependent on you. Mary I love you but as the old cliche says if you love something set it free. I did just that I turned my back on Mary and must say it was and still is hard. I do miss her sometimes but I have to be strong. I do bump into her sometimes because we have mutual friends but I keep my distance and love her for respecting my decision and staying the hell away from me. Oh Mary bekumnandi ukwazi...I see you still continuing doing what you do best and making people happy and all I can say is keep up the good work.

why can't i say i am black?

I am a child of mixed races. If we were in America I would call myself biracial but then again we are not. My mother is Xhosa and my father is coloured and, in essence, they are both black. So why can’t I say I am black?

As I was growing up I had to defend and justify who and what I am. I was too black to be coloured and too coloured to be black. Sounds weird, nuh?

Well, the thing is when I was with coloured people I was this "kroeskop" girl and they felt the need to speak English to me and would be amazed at the fact that I could speak Afrikaans.

As I grew older and I met Xhosa people they would look at me and ask “Sorry, are you Xhosa”? I would say yes and ask why and their response would be: "It's just that you look coloured.” Then they would add: “You must have a bit of colouredness in you.”

So my experience has been that upon meeting someone for the first time, I have had to tell them my life story. I tell them about my parents and that it has resulted in a "beautiful cocktail", which is me.

But why should I have to explain and justify my blackness? I have found that if I say that I am Xhosa, the next question is "ungumni" (what’s your clan name)? As I don't have one, they say I must be coloured.

Why can't I just be me? Why should I justify my blackness by putting an ethnic label before it? Why can’t I say I am black and be accepted. Better yet why can’t I say I am an African because in essence that is what I am?

I am 24 years young and still have to explain myself. At technikon my friends named me a "mix", so they now refer to me as Mix. I don’t care what they call me, I know who I am. I am Zora, black, bald and butted. I am my own person and don’t need anything or anyone to validate me.

So, call me what you want to call me, Xhosa, Coloured or mix, but I will remain the beautiful cocktail that I am.

i want to be a gay man

I want to be a gay man

This was my first time at a gay club. Wow, that was some trip.

I lived in a commune with three gay men. They constantly talked about Bronx which is a gay club and is apparently "off the hook". Every Sunday we would sit in the lounge and they would talk about the hotties they met at Bronx.

They would constantly nag me about going there and assured me several times that I would have a super time. They would invite me to come along but I would always decline because I thought: what am I, a straight black female gonna do at gay club?

They (my gay housemates) would simply reply, "perv over the hot men". So one Friday I decided to go and see what all the hype was about. I wanted to see what I was missing out on. So I went with my roommate and one of my gay housemates.

Oh, my goodness all I can say is, the men, glorious men, it was raining men! Damn were they beautiful! Note I said beautiful and not handsome. I tell you I have never seen so many beautiful men in one room.

I wanted to be a gay man. I didn't want to turn them straight; I wanted to be them and experience what they were going through. They were kissing and feeling each other and I must admit I had some oh my gosh, no he didn't just touch his...moments.

Damn, those men were pretty and some of them were oh, so feminine. I must say I felt a bit embarrassed to be a female because some of those queens seemed to be more woman then I am. Yes, that night I decided that I wanted to be a gay man.