Had to point you to a must-read comment piece on the phenomenon of “Coconuts” that caused a stir in the twitterverse. If you are not familiar with the term it’s a derogatory label for black people who are thought to have sold out being black by not being black enough. This sounds complicated I know. So I will leave it to Lerato Tshabalala, my former Sunday Times Lifestyle compadre, to explain and tell it like it is.
A fascinating, smart and funny piece of commentary on South Africa’s post-apartheid generation.
But even with all this strong evidence, it appears that my “blackness” has come into question several times. It’s baffling. I mean I’ve even gone the extra mile to prove I really am black – dreadlocks and all (putting chemicals in your hair is perceived as a sign that you’ve crossed over to the pale side) – but my efforts have yielded no positive results.
It seems that the evidence pointing towards my “coconut” disposition is quite strong. For one, I not only know what Green Day, Staind and Red Hot Chili Peppers are, I have sinned by actually owning music by Alanis Morissette, Linkin Park and Sting. My misdemeanours have further been exacerbated by the fact that I was one of the 12 black people who went to the U2 concert and one of the eager few to buy tickets to the Coldplay concert on the first day they went on sale… Coconuts of the World Unite (Read the rest here).
You may want to read more from Laurice
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