A Choice of Colour

So I spent an hour and a half typing up a blog and specifically about my youngest daughter Nicole , then morning after 4 hours of admin in a cold office I went to find it only to discover that the resident roving ravishing genius that I am, had not saved it.

No swearing was involved and I refrained from banging my head against the wall, a definite sign that my medications are making me a better grade of robot.

To sum up in a nutshell the body of the unsaved/heathen blog was as follows.

My thirteen year old asked me whether she could date someone who I am led to believe is a wonderful charming lad. He is of a different race group and my mind immediately went back to my childhood where we were raised in an apartheid era and the majority of parents would not have considered this ever possible. You had more luck blowing your Corporal a kiss on the parade ground and surviving that.

So here it was, also being divorced and not always sure of what has been discussed with her mother, I tread lightly and engage in a conversation with her.

My girls have grown up in a post apartheid South Africa and have friends from various ethnic groups and stare at me with confusion when I explain how badly and inhumanely folk were treated in the old South Africa.

My concern is not that she wishes to date a boy of another ethnic group, it is simply that I need her to concentrate on her school work and also be aware of the possible lash back they might encounter and have to endure. We may be a democracy, but there are still scars and hurts from the past that some folk harbour bitterly.

It doesn’t seem fair that 13 year olds should be exposed to this.

This was the brunt of the blog and it is not something new as my girls and I have had this discussion in some detail already.

I am excited for the new generation as it moves into adulthood and the energy and acceptance of each others opinions and differences, it gives me hope that we are indeed heading in the right direction.

Nite All