Cruelty too much to bear
Date: January 1, 1970
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My name is Lee. I am 18 years old and grew up being discriminated against because I was dark skinned and had pock marks. I was always seen as sick. They even said I had AIDS because of my skin problem. I was labelled the black sheep of the family. They said things that made me think, feel and believe that I was ugly, useless, a mistake, inferior, stupid and born to suffer. I was always filled with hatred, anger and gloom and the only way to express these emotions was through crying.
My name is Lee. I am 18 years old and grew up being discriminated against because I was dark skinned and had pock marks. I was always seen as sick. They even said I had AIDS because of my skin problem. I was labelled the black sheep of the family. They said things that made me think, feel and believe that I was ugly, useless, a mistake, inferior, stupid and born to suffer. I was always filled with hatred, anger and gloom and the only way to express these emotions was through crying.
We lived in Soweto at a family house from the day I was born till I was 18 years old. After my grandmother and uncle passed away, my other uncle decided to move in with his family of six. It was difficult for nine people to live in a four roomed house, people with different attitudes and morals. We were totally different so we decided to move out, my mom, my sister and I. My sister was the bread winner.
We moved to Springs and rented a house there from 1 September 2006, by that time my sister was 8 months pregnant and the only one working. The next month on the 6 October 2006 she had a baby girl and we were very happy because we were starting a new life. That all changed in January 2007.
I always had questions about my father because ever since I was born I never knew him, so I asked my mother about him and she answered in passing, telling me his name. One day my sister came back from work with news that this very man had passed away. I broke down and cried not because I had lost a father but because I had just lost a chance to ask questions that I still have even today. Do you know me? Am I your daughter? Why did you have to leave and what were you thinking all these years? My questions will never be answered.
My sister and I went to the funeral and saw him for the first time and last time. I cried because I was full of anger, hatred and hopelessness. I came back from the funeral in Kwazulu Natal and told myself it is over, my questions are no longer important because my answers are buried with him.
When I came back to Johannesburg, I was relieved because I used to go around wondering whenever I saw a man if he is my dad, what kind of a person is he? Now that I knew he was no more, I was at peace. After some months it came out that he left me money for my education until I was 21 years old. I got the money and studied at a computer college. By this time my mom had become a different person.
She used to be an indoor person but now she was going all over the place and we later found out that she was having an affair that made her aggressive. When you talk to her she would freak out, we found out about it when I came home late at around 22h00 and she was not in the house so I woke my sister and the tenant. We started searching for her but there was no trace of her. We went to sleep and at about 4h00 we heard her sneaking in.
The next morning my sister asked her where she had been and that is the world war broke out she told us we want to rule her life. Screaming and telling us to butt off and chased my sister out of the house, she said that the man we buried is not my father but only my sister’s, she got me out of her bitching and she does not know where I belong. That tore me to pieces I just could not stand her and I started to hate her. During the process of these fights my sister’s daughter got ill and passed away on the 12 March 2007, she was 5 months old.
I stopped talking to her. Everyday when I came home from school I would find my bedroom had been searched and the furniture shifted. She started telling people that I was pregnant because I was gaining weight. She even told my boyfriend’s friend and that is how I found out about it. She continued to say that I was a mistake and that she got me out of her bitching around, I was born out of wedlock and that I ruined her marriage.
Then one day when I came home from school I met my mother’s friend and she said I should not go home but I insisted that wanted to go home. When I got there I found my room changed again. I slipped into my casual clothes to fix my room, while shifting furniture I realised she was at the door when I turned she stabbed me in the arm with an intention to stab me in the chest. I stormed out of the house screaming to the neighbour’s house. The neighbour took me to the clinic and I need stitching.
They came back and asked her why she did it and the answer was: “She ruined my marriage. I’m her mother I have the right to kill her as I had a right to give birth to her”. I ran away to stay with my uncle at Orange Farm. Things were not getting any better in Springs she was chasing my sister with a knife. My uncle saw that it was not getting better he suggested we open a case for her. I did and she was arrested on a Friday and came out on a Monday.
Eventually we were evicted from the house because my mother was misusing the rent money that my sister was giving her. We were left homeless, she vanished into thin air and my sister went to stay with her boyfriend. I had no place to go but the subtenant was kind enough to let me stay with her in her garage.
In all of this, these are the things I lost:
- Parents
- Niece
- Family
- Home
- Boyfriend
- Phone
- Happy life
- My pride
- Self-esteem
- True meaning of life
- True meaning of love
- The reason/will to live
- Dignity as a young woman
- Most of all, hope for a better life
I always knew the world was cruel but did not expect such cruelty from my own parents and family.
*not her real name
This story is part of the I Stories series produced by the Gender Links Opinion and Commentary Service for the Sixteen Days of Activism on Gender Violence
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