Protest Deja Vu

This is the outcome of multiple conversations, with a variety of (different races & economic groups) friends over the past while.  It’s a work in progress.  The calls to protest have made me rethink what I stand for.  Who I stand for.  Not just what I stand against. 

My heart and head have been unsettled and noisy for the past year.  Which has actually led to less online engagement, more listening & more watching what is unfolding around me.  It’s been liberating to realise that I have been guilty of deifying certain voices in the social justice circles.  Of sometimes not thinking through why I think what I do, what filters do I carry with me and through which filters am I experiencing others.

It’s liberated me to start a journey of discovery towards the voices who challenge me to think about what righteousness and justice looks like in relationship and as a God-believer.  I don’t agree with everything always.  I have to sit with things often.  I am still going to be too conservative for some and too radical for others, or too enmeshed and overthinking for yet others.  I am going to cause offence somewhere on this journey.  Sometimes for the right reasons, and other times because I have gotten it wrong and need to reflect and repent of where I have done so, not just inwardly but to the people in the story too.

I have had a lot of déjà vu watching the online postings of the current #HambaZuma, #PhantsiZuma, #ZumamustFall hashtags.   On the 16th December 2015, some of us engaged with similar conversations to those which are unfolding now.  Do we go march or don’t we go?  We agree with the principle, but do we agree with the way the action is happening?

I tweeted something which in my spaces was fairly moderate along the lines of “hoping that once this march is over, we will continue to see mass mobilisation towards other issues of injustice”.  I lost facebook friends over this, frustrated people over this and was accused of being divisive in this rather than invitational which was always the intent.

It wasn’t a judgement it was a hope. A hope that issues of injustice would be acknowledged and in our numbers, in the mass of people, addressed. 

The issues of injustice that matter to me are that of sanitation (going to the toilet shouldn’t mean risking rape, murder, assault or being kidnapped); of children not being in school because of violence or because there aren’t enough support systems in place to deal with children who are struggling.

A hope that remains still, now in April 2017 as we sit in a week in which the date for the EIGHTH vote of no confidence in our president has been set.

My protest question still remains:

What happens after Friday?  After the proposed national shutdown? Where there are ‘well meant’ but offensive motivational messages being circulated about make sure your ‘helper’, ‘security’ and ‘gardener’ are with you for this march?

(Q: How do you know that they share your views?  These are adults, they can choose whether they want to join you or not.  Maybe they want to protest in their own spaces.  Maybe they don’t trust the process.  Maybe they have witnessed enough protest in their lives or lived through the previous change in government to want to choose to hand the baton on to others)

One of my mentors who is black and poor asked me:

What are people going to do afterwards”

“What will change in how people treat each other and take responsibility for things, after wearing black, after marching?”

Government can’t change our social dynamics. Zuma must go BUT what responsibility and response within our abilities are we going to explore and COMMIT to after Friday’s march.

SO, please forgive me for overthinking this if you must, but I have friends who don’t eat supper every night; friends whose children run out of nappies for economic reasons; friends who STILL can’t give their children choices like my parents could give me. Friends who lost parents because they were poor – poverty reduces life expectancy (not a liberal snowflakey vibe, this is fact).  I have lost friends who didn’t have private medical resources & didn’t share how they were struggling health wise and so were on repeated waiting lists in the public health system and ended up having heart related issues on their death certificate but had it been me, would have been placed on medication and under observation.

I want to protest against these realities. These injustices.

I want to protest against power dynamics that aren’t right.

I want to protest against things that take away choices from people.

Yes, I want Zuma to go as I believe that he makes choices that removes choices from other people in order to continue expanding his own world.

I want to protest against the fact that in 2015, there was mass mobilisation for a week towards a march in the community and then it seemed that people went quiet.  That the invitation (again) and call (again) to share responsibility for addressing the daily injustices in our nation wasn’t taken up by the broader white community and THIS has added to the sense of mistrust and questioning of intent and motive.  The impact of our lack of action has led to some of the responses now.  As a white person, I recognise this to be a recurring theme in the social media debates in 2017.  I recognise and own that this is aimed at the white community.  Not because we don’t have a role in this country, but because we are either reluctant or reticent, or not sure how to engage with these things.

I want to protest that people in my friendship circles live like they do, with life being about survival far too often – whether from bullets, hunger or a lack of resources.

I want to protest that our fear of what restitution is stops us from exploring what it could look like in our spaces.

I want to protest for ongoing, as has been emerging in the social media debates, dialogues around what unity really means, about what making good could look like and what seeing each other means.

I want to protest at the fact that too often despite declaring that we are called to HOLY RIGHTEOUSNESS AND JUSTICE, we get caught up in our own self-righteousness and own vision of what we believe justice to be.  I have had to repent of this.  It’s uncomfortable and necessary.

I want to protest at the exclusivity of some of the spaces I have inadvertently helped create and protest for figuring out how to help keep people going on this journey of reconciliation and restitution so that it’s not just buzz words from the ‘rainbow nation’ illusion but that we keep on doing the hard work we need to in ourselves in order to see the others in the story too.

We are in the midst of a revolution.

It can happen while we pay dignified wages & explore what it means to cap maximum wages so that dignified wages are a possibility.  I am challenged by this every time I think about it.  Dare I think that this could be a reality?  Dare I believe that this is possible and doesn’t stop interest and investment in our economic markets and so importantly into people’s lives?

It can happen while we create relationships and figure out what generosity in this space looks like; it can happen when I choose to share with you because I know I have more than you based on my birth status and not because I am worth more.  And that the way in which I share doesn’t communicate power, but sharing of resources.  That there is dignity and acknowledgement that we are both givers and receivers in this process.

It can happen when I choose less eating out, less shopping, less what feels like essentials but are actually choices and choose to invest or pour that into other spaces.

Not just because you make me feel okay about myself, but because I choose to. And in choosing to, maybe I will find my sense of belonging with you.  In the midst of our differences.

Oh South Africa: prayerful reflections

Sunday 2nd April 2017:  Reflections on SOUTH AFRICA

These are some of the guidelines, reflections and conversation points that emerged during a time of prayer and discussion this afternoon.  Restitution, personal reflection as well as praying for your nation happened. Thought I would share them in anticipation of #blackmonday and the proposed national shut down on Friday in protest of a presidential cabinet reshuffle. 

 Who and what is our role?

There are lots of voices at the moment shouting about Zuma, about who is allowed to criticize who, about what needs to happen and what needs to change.  In the midst of this all, some significant conversations have happened in my world.  I thought I would share them with you as some reflection moments before pressing into prayer.

AS WHITE SOUTH AFRICANS…

Was at trauma conference on Friday and obviously, the happenings of the time were discussed. There was a big discussion of “whites being silent”… the final outcome was that whites need to listen more, really listen (which you’ve done for years) but important to be engaged and involved too… not to be silent as this means you not taking accountability and not working for the future… may God’s spirit lead you this afternoon.  (My friend Kirsten Thomson, echoed by Sharlene Swartz who was at the same conference).

Unless we are as committed to restitution and redistribution as we are opposed to corruption, we need to carefully think about why we are wanting to wear black in support of #blackmonday (Sharlene Swartz’s tweet that has been tweaked)

 

Why does this matter?

One of the recurrent themes, as I listened to different speakers at The Justice Conference SA was as Christians , why are we seeking justice? What do we believe about justice?

What do we believe about God in this? About who God seeks justice for?

What do we believe about people and God’s relationship to them?

A scripture commonly used to explore the justice space is Micah 6:8

He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,[a]
and to walk humbly with your God?

As Christians, we believe that we are in the not yet -now space:  We believe that the Kingdom of God was revealed in Jesus and that the age of Heaven is to come and YET, we are called to be a part of ushering in the kingdom now. A kingdom reflecting equity, belonging and a God who has created, ordained and celebrated diversity.

As a country we don’t see this in our legislative history (think Apartheid which was an extension of the colonial system).

We also don’t see our current leaders pushing towards this.

SO other than reducing this to about one man who is an easy target currently in his actions, Zuma, we need to look at what is required of us in pursuing justice for us all.

There is an invitation to engage beyond just #blackmonday.

Can I invite you to join us in prayerfully exploring this space around the following topics:

What do Zuma’s actions mean, not just for us, but for our nation and for the most vulnerable in our nation?

What does this mean in terms of what we need to be praying for in our leaders as a nation?

  • Are we praying for the standard to be God’s righteousness or for things not to be disrupted?

Are we able to see bigger than just Zuma?

What opportunities for justice do I need to be responding to?

What does this mean for the sphere of influence in my world, as well as what communities is God asking me to consider walking with?

What can we commit to in action in response?

What areas of our lives do we need God to being clarity in so that we can, in good conscience, advocate and pursue justice?

  • Some of these might be comfortable spaces, some less so, yet the call for justice is revealed throughout the Bible from the beginning to the end.
  • Think about Joseph, Daniel, Ruth, the Pharisees
  • Think about Jesus and the tax collector
  • Think about David and Saul and the role of the prophetic.

Where do we confuse:

  • Networking or nepotism vs creating opportunities for newcomers into our economic and income earning spaces
  • Who is responsible for healing our nation?
  • What sense of restitution do we hold? Does this scare us?

It might be helpful to reflect on:

  • Where we feel hopeless in South Africa
  • Where we feel hope in South Africa
  • Where we feel powerless and what we believe about God’s power in this
  • What can we dare to pray for and believe for South Africa and ALL who call this nation home?

This is an ongoing journey towards a healed nation.

May we lament as appropriate, repent as appropriate, respond as required.

Lord have mercy.

Christ have mercy.

Lord have mercy.

Nkosi Sikilele iAfrika.

 

Talking adoption… when questions are asked.

What happens when you have a family member who is adopted and other family members start asking questions about why, where, how?

How do you manage this?

My husband and I have been very clear from the start that we believe that our son, and any future adopted children’s beginning stories will belong to them.  This means that we don’t ever discuss where their birth/ first families are or why we ended up as families.

Do we believe that there is a shameful secret around this?  Most definitely not. Even if the story has hard, sad, crazy, wish we didn’t have to talk about this one day, or maybe the story is the ‘ideal’ as much as adoption stories can be the ideal ito content.

We  ascribe the following:

It’s not our story to tell.  Not even as immediate or close family. Or friends.

It’s not our story to tell.  Which means that even well meant, seeking more understanding questions might be left feeling unanswered simply as our son’s right, as well as his first family’s right to privacy takes precedent in this.

Not because we think that family doesn’t matter, but because we are recognising that there are more things to consider than just close family and friends in this.

We love how much our family and friends celebrate the joyful one who is our son.

We also hold a space that we don’t get to share with anyone else, around parts of how he became our son.  There are elements of gratitude but also elements of grief in this.

Another tricky part of this is navigating GENUINELY curious question from children in their efforts to understand. We need to answer questions generally without allocating any of the answers to our son’s story.

Huh?

The reason for this simply is that general answers, (Like sometimes first mom’s can’t look after their children because… economics, relationship, life seasons) need to be given in a way that leaves the final answer with we don’t know why.  This is something that is for him and his first mom to know. Maybe he will know that information, by we don’t know.  This is part of his private story.

As our son’s parents, we get to give him the detailed version of the story-  and we don’t want to be correcting myths or well intended things that he might hear in passing that have been communicated along the way.  The truth of his adoption story will always be known by him, along with this is your private story and we, as his parents, are responsible for helping him share this appropriately as he grows.  Once things are said, they cannot be unsaid or taken back.

SO in our family – and we recognise that other adoptive families might choose to do this differently – if you have children or maybe you are asking these questions, or are an adoptive family trying to navigate this, below is some of what my husband and I  are asking be used in response to these questions:

  • We use the term first family to cover first mom and other first family members-  as much as we are the family our child is doing life with, there was another family  he was born from first.  Before us.  It also makes explaining two families a little easier for us when we have already introduced the concept – whether clearly understood or not just yet.
  • There are lots of different reasons for why first families (moms, dads, grandmothers and all the other adults in a child’s life) might not be able to look after a baby that grew in the first mom’s tummy.
  • We don’t know the reason why *insert child’s name* was adopted
  • Some of the reasons might be that the first mom was too young, or maybe didn’t have enough money or enough resources to look after a baby. Another reason might be that the mom didn’t plan to have another baby and so she needed to have someone else look after the baby.  We don’t know why *insert child’s name* first mom made this decision.  That might be information that they have or don’t have-  but it’s private information and so we don’t know.
  • You might be wondering who helped the *insert child’s name* join our family? There are people called social workers who look after children and try and make sure that every child whose first mom can’t look after them gets to join another family.
  • When children are adopted most of the time, the first family isn’t a part of the child’s life anymore.
  • Alexa and her husband always wanted to adopt – even before they got married, they spoke about this. About choosing to have children whose first mom’s couldn’t help their babies get big.
  • Adoption means that there are two families for *insert child’s name* – one they were born from and one that they live with forever – one day *insert child’s name* might have a lot of questions about this all and then it’s up to his mom and dad to help figure this out.

Some questions to help both adults and smaller people process this include:

  • Do you think that this might be confusing for him sometimes? Or maybe it might make him a little sad?  What do you think would be something that might make him happy about being in our family or community? What makes you happy or sad in this story? Does anything worry you in this?

Practical ways of talking about this might include:

  • Using one piece of paper, drawing two different families but putting a line down the middle to explore the two families.
  • Using play dough to create families and social workers and explaining the story.
  • Using photos to tell the story of families becoming family and internet sourced scans of pregnant bellies.
  • Using different feeling faces along the way.

 

We are aware that we might seem over protective, unwilling to share or over sensitive in this.It’s not about us though – it’s about our children. It’s about figuring out how to best love them, allowing our broader community to be loving them well and modelling the values and core beliefs we hold as adoptive parents in this.

It’s about ensuring that their story remains fully theirs.

 

Sharing the cake

Why do their houses look different?
Why are people standing outside?
Why are children not at school, or the men at work?
Why are there no gardens?

Can you see the Park in this area?
Yes
Does it look like a nice place to play?

No, not really.

The above were some of the questions and conversations had en route from Rondebosch, a suburb with lovely leafy open spaces and parks, en route to Delft.

Notorious Delft – Delft that makes the headlines for all the wrong reasons. Delft that is also full of families and people trying to get things to work for all the right reasons.

The conversation was with an ‘almost 4’ year old who was accompanying his mom and myself to drop things off with a friend of mine whose house burnt down 2 months ago. His mom was preparing him for the fact that things would be a little different to what was used to seeing in his day to day life.

We also spoke about the SONA events that had occurred the previous night and how his mom and I felt re: the different political parties responses.

His mom mentioned that Julius keeping issues re: poverty on the table was so important but also it felt scary to think of him being in charge, even though things definitely needed to change.

‘ Why is it scary mom’ piped up the voice from the back seat.

A-hem… mom looked across at me.

I waited to hear what his mom was going to say;  After another um, ahem moment offered to share what I had voiced to my almost 2 year old son already, not because he understands yet, but because I want to figure out how to explain our unjust, unequal past to my son. Something that I realised I was going to need to do at some stage when he was strapped to my back on voting day last year.

But, back to my inquiring little friend.

Me: So, let’s say that everyone likes cake.
Yes.
Me: And we handed out cake to people, but we had a set of rules that said that only some people could have cake and not other people – how would that sound to you?
Would you be okay with being told that you had to watch other people eating cake?
NO – that’s not fair.

Okay, how about if you had the cake and we said that we all needed to share our cake with people. Do you think that this would be an easy or tricky thing? What would happen if someone came and grabbed your cake, or you were scared someone would come and grab your cake?
I would grab my cake and make sure that no one could grab it.
So actually sharing your cake, even though it would mean that everyone got cake can feel hard? Yes!

That’s a bit like what is going on in our country.
DO we believe that everyone should be treated the same? That God made everyone the same?
Yes.
Well, as crazy as it might sound, not everyone thought like this and some people made really mean, or bad rules saying that some people could have things but not everyone.In our country, the people who could have the cake were the white people, and other people weren’t allowed to share the cake with them.
Now we have new rules but still not everyone has cake.

Does that make sense?
Yes.

Okay, well what if instead of cake, we said nice houses, or nice schools or comfortable things.
At the moment, different people are trying to figure out how to help make sure everyone can get these things and for some people it feels kind of scary to share, some people don’t want to share and other people want to share but aren’t sure what that looks like.

Okay.

And then another why followed….

Don’t ever stop asking these questions little man, your why questions might very well hold answers, compassion and solutions for some of the consequences of bad rules.  

In the meantime we need to figure out how to share the cake better, both in attitude and practical action.

And then it was done.

2016 that is.
I have been a mama for more than a year now.
We have had massive changes in the last year.
A new business.
A new home.
And every time you think you have a handle on something to do with mothering, the handle changes. It’s beautiful. It’s frustrating. It’s happening so very quickly.
For weeks now I have been wanting to sit down and write and then the end of the day arrives and I realise that I just want to sit down.
2016 has been a year of deep joy and deep grief.
We have had to say goodbye to family members and friends as they journey on the other side of heaven.
Looking back, I realise that the deep joy of mother hood has also meant letting go of much of what I thought I knew about me.
Before becoming a mama, we were fairly convinced that I would need to go back to work, at least part time, after 6 months. There was a possibility that maybe not, but for the most part people who know me, who love me and well, me, all thought this would be the case.
Then work possibilities opened up and I realised how anxious I was about saying yes.
The opportunity came for me to do some locum work, in the same period as a conference workshop and seeing a family for some support and I thought that this would be a great way to figure out if this is what I wanted actually – to get back into a work space. We have always said we would reassess after a year of motherhood where I was.
Despite enjoying the time with the kids, running groups and one:one I had to realise that the kick back I was getting in this space, wasn’t just about using my skills, but also the affirmation that I am skilled at being in this space. There is feedback and affirmation. There is sense of being seen. There is a sense of other purpose.
Then I got home and my little person who had been with his grandparents – it’s a mutual adoration club – reminded me that his feedback comes in other ways. It comes in being present as he develops skills. It comes in being able to be the person who creates an environment in which he can develop skills. It comes in making his world big enough, safe enough to keep testing the limits of it and yet making it smaller when he needs cuddle, couch and comfort time.
It comes when someone says to me, your son is developing assertiveness already in how you give him choices. It comes when I get feedback that there is a secure attachment that has developed here & when we see perfectly age appropriate behaviours (the fun and more trying ones) emerging.
It comes when I get to be a part of going on adventures with him and seeing an overnight shift in suddenly being able to sit through a story (rather than needing to finish the story after he has gone to bed).
Being this boy’s mama has revealed to me that as much as I love my professional space, I am in a season of loving this space more. Of being in a privileged position of being able to choose to stay in this space more.
Being this boy’s mama has meant that my choices around health and wellbeing for myself are needing to be figured out differently than before.
Being this boy’s mama at this stage in my life means that my deep satisfaction at having achieved my career aspirations just before meeting my guy doesn’t leave me feeling robbed.
Conflicted every now and then at the end of a long stretch when I am feeling unseen – but that’s not about my work space, it’s about learning to rest in a new way of being for me.
Being this boy’s mama has shown me that there are things that I feel strongly about in a way that I no longer tackle as head on as I used to, and others’ that I will. At the end the issues I tackle need to leave a mama intact for him, as well as confronting the bigger issues playing out around us. That doesn’t mean I sit down in injustice, it means I change how I have to tackle them.
This year has shown me things about myself- some wonderful surprises, some horrible reflections – that I am grateful for.
I am grateful that my husband is in a position to give me choices.
I am grateful for the extra support we have in the Manyi family. All of them.
I am grateful for the community that we are a part of. The friends and family who helped me lay foundations for what I wanted out of mothering, for permission to choose differently, for space to figure this out. For more than one friend who has reflected that the first year of motherhood means grace and space to be less visible and involved because your visibility and involvement is elsewhere and not seen publicly.
I am grateful for the murky horrible reflections that have also emerged as they help me navigate what 2017 needs to hold in it too. And grateful for the people who love me anyway, but love me enough to challenge the things that need challenging.
I am grateful for my son. For who he is revealing in me. For the fact that simply unlocking a different part of me has meant drawing different lines in the sand, determining different boundaries and making different choices.
2016 has been the best of times and the worst of times to quote Dickens.
And I am grateful.

Choosing Children. Or Not.

Adoption as a choice.
Not a default. Not because of. A choice.

This is a vent post.
I am currently frustrated. Intensely, immensely frustrated by a post I just read on a friend’s facebook wall where someone stated that to actively choose to adopt or stay “sterile” for the sake of not having children, and so that you could have sex without procreating, he didn’t believe was biblical.

Song of Songs seems to suggest otherwise.

He also believed that women are saved through childbirth – a little out of context as the Word clearly states that women and men – both are only saved in the Christian faith through the Cross. In other words through Jesus.
That aside.
When did we become the police of people’s choices to have children, or not to, or how to?

I selfishly love the spaces & freedom my friends who choose not to have children invite me into. Not because I don’t want to be a mother. But because it speaks to other parts of who I am and who they are.
Before we got married my guy and I spoke about how we were going to grow our family. My vision was ALWAYS adoption. It was just a matter of when we were going to adopt.

Not because I want someone else’s child, but because the reality is that there are children who need to be in families and I wanted to be a mother and actually, I still continue to want to be a mother.

I don’t have strong need to be pregnant. The only time I did have strong need for this was after 6 months of considering this as a possibility and knowing that it mattered to my husband AT THE TIME and wanting to honour him in this – the perfectionist in me felt the need to get this right. Sadly, we had a miscarriage, but even so, according to the Gynae, there was absolutely no reason why we shouldn’t fall pregnant should we CHOOSE too. See that word? It’s been a loud one in my head and heart.

We did adopt. We have a gorgeous one year old son.
We want him to have siblings. We have recently wrestled and worked through which way we want to grow our family next. We have prayed about this. We have spoken at length to each other. We have sat with the options individually. We have had to take a long hard look at our motives and ourintentions and selves (the good and the ugly) and come to a decision.
A decision based on CHOICE.
A decision based on who we are, where we are, who our son is and what we believe about parenthood.

Regardless of whether people come to the point of adoption through the initial plan A or a journey with the grief of infertility or a journey of life not working out quiet the way they envisioned with a partner – It’s a CHOICE. It’s a choice to love another. (Like you choose to love your partner who wasn’t born to you). It’s a choice to do midnight nappy changes, feeding, teething, hospital visits, interrupted sleep, reallocating budget. It’s a choice to be a parent – regardless of whether we get there through sex, adoption or marrying someone who already has children.

It’s a choice to not be a parent too.

Our lives exist outside of our children, we are people apart from our children and they are people apart from us.

We have the freedom to choose. Most of us reading this anyway.
Maybe we need to honour other’s freedom in this too.

Violence

itisnolongeri

I’m definitely not a violent person. In fact, I hate all forms of violence and don’t ever see causing pain as a useful solution to any problem. However, this week I have really wanted to hurt someone, like take someone and physically harm them, and shatter them to pieces with my words at the same time! I wanted to demonstrate my power over them because of my outrage for how they were dominating and hurting someone I love so deeply. I can see how people have gotten to a point where they think redemptive violence might just be ok.

I’m not proud of feeling like this, and while my violent urges have almost subsided, my anger has not. I don’t actually think it’s supposed to just yet, but the question I’m checking with myself is if this anger is breeding hopelessness or is this anger broken-heartedness? Anger that leads to…

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