Sam Wilson... thoughts and stuff

This is the post I sent out this morning in my weekly Women24 editor's mailer. to sign up, click here

24.com went to a tech conference in Joburg last week where we, as usual, failed to schmooze.

We suck at schmooze. Most of us just don’t really try the whole ‘meet and greet new people’ thing; we’re old school nerds who haven’t bought into this new ‘suave geek’ malarkey.

Others of us, like Geoff and myself for example, are aggressively poor at small talk. We speak loudly and forcefully, but don’t say the kind of calm and soothing things that pass for polite conversation, and quite by mistake appear to well, frighten other people. (Actually, now that I think about it, Geoff isn’t necessarily doing it by mistake.)

But – and this is my point – I just HATE small talk. I mean, who has time for pre-conversation?

You don’t get to know someone else from trotting out a whole bunch of platitudes... you get to know other people by listening to what they really think about things and then telling them what you really think about those same things. And this whole process is kinda hamstrung if you’re only going to talk about the weather, name drop or make comments so fibre-free that they seem to come from some ethereal pre-approved handbook.

Why do people seem so keen to pre-censor themselves to fit in? Surely blanding yourself down to the accepted default personality feels really depressing?

The activist in me finds this particularly depressing in women – because the more women who are loudly opinionated, the more opinions women get to have.

What do you think about small talk? Does it form an important social function? Are those of us who are small talk-challenged just bashing about like bumper cars, hurting other people’s feelings without enough care?

Tell me what you think. But only what you REALLY think.

Love and hogging the canapés



P.S I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the truly fabulous, ‘small-talk-be-damned’ women I bonded with at tech4africa . If you are on Twitter, follow @KateWolters, @afrosocialmedia, @melattree, @exmi , @ricegirl2 and @SnowgooseSA. Cos if we’re all ourselves, we can beat the clones.

Last week, I bumped into a friend I haven’t seen for ages. She had a noticeable stomach bump.

Now, as someone who was once told “Any day now!” with a nudge and a wink, three weeks AFTER I GAVE BIRTH, I am usually very cognisant of Dave Barrie’s rule:  “You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.”

But it was a very BIG bump, and as she’s a very small person... I thought I’d risk it.

“You’re pregnant!” I exclaimed, slightly nervously.

She beamed back at me.

“I know!” she hugged her tummy proudly. “Almost 7 months now.”

Phew, I thought to myself. Crisis averted.

“That’s fantastic!” I hugged her. “So... who’s the Dad? Is he excited?”

Readers? I thought she was going to smack me. Instead, she just started shrieking.

“What is it with you white chicks and your constant fixation on the FATHER?” she shouted. “What does it have to do with you, anyway?

"Why do you always have to act so bloody prim? Why...”

Here I felt a need to put my hands up in defeat.

“Zee? I didn’t mean it like that at all! I just meant, well, is there a guy to share the load? I haven’t seen you for ages, and I just wanted to know that you have help. Having a baby is so incredibly hard to do alone.”

It was Zee’s turn to stare at me, nonplussed.

“What do you mean, alone?  I’ve got two aunts, two sisters and a mother.”

And here, my friends, is where I think the colours divide. I think black and coloured families have matriarchal help as much more of a given than white families. Sure, my mother would look after my baby during the day if she has no other choice, but readers... she’d be PISSED.  Because no one would have done it for her. Or her own mother. In my family, as a woman... you make your own bed, and then you make the best of it.

I do have white friends whose mothers look after their babies during the day, but it was by no means automatic, and took quite a lot of negotiation.

After this interchange, which shook me up a bit (I am the most tactless person born, right?) – I remembered a piece Masanda Peter wrote for Parent24, called 'Where is the black dad?', which I think links very well here. Are black single mothers so self reliant because they tend to have matriarchal networks, or because they are just that bloody strong, or both?

Is it true that black men are more absent? And if so, is that because the societal structure makes it easier for them, or because they feel less obligated to pitch in with child care?

And how do women, of any shade or culture, manage as single moms without any family help at all?

What am I (very obviously) missing? Don’t smack me now.

This post first appeared in the Women24 weekly editorial newsletter. Sign up for it here.

Writing my post for the Women24 newsletter today, I found myself checking the wording on a Dave Barrie quote and then finding a whole lot of gems that made me happy.

I hope they make you happy too. They're from his book, Dave Barrie turns 50.

• People who feel the need to tell you that they have an excellent sense of humor are telling you that they have no sense of humor.


• You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.


• There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age 11.


• People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.


• You should not confuse your career with your life.


• A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person.


• Your friends love you anyway.

Nice, ne?

xx

Hi everyone

So two Saturdays back I am sitting in the garden of Lovely Lili, our favourite ginger, drinking rosemary-infused Bombay Sapphire gin and tonics with her sisters.

At some point amidst all the civilised chatting, laughing and glass clinking, I felt a familiar pin prick.

“Hey OranjeLili!,” I tutted.

(That’s what Lili is called at home, because she has a little niece called KleinLili. Why Afrikaans families can’t use more than a handful of names is beyond me, but since I love both Lilies to distraction, I suppose I can chalk it up to cultural differences.)

“Yes, pampoen?” replied Lili.

(Calling me a series of slightly off putting Afrikaans pet names is what passes for affection at her house. Secretly, I love it.)

“Your garden has mosquitoes in the middle of winter. Your garden, Mary, is just as contrary as you.”  I replied, scratching my arm.

“Suck it up,” rebuked Lili’s sisters, simultaneously, which of course, set off a fresh round of laughter and clinking.

Fast forward 24 hours and I am sitting in an emergency room, with a swollen forearm that felt like it was being held in a bowl of acid.

“Seriously, that’s all the morphine you are going to give me?” I asked the doctor, plaintively, trying to make Puss in Boots eyes through the pain.

Apparently, Lili’s garden doesn’t have winter mosquitoes. Instead, it is home to a violin spider.

I’ve learnt a lot during the past 2 weeks of medicine and bed rest, studded by emails and meetings.  

First, if you’ve had two morphine injections, it’s possible to have only one thought in an entire day. For me, that thought was: “You should really close your mouth sometime soon.”

And second, I find it UNBELIEVABLY impossible to switch off. Seriously.  I wrote the first half of this column from my doctor’s waiting room and the second half from my bed.

What is it about modern womanhood that it is so impossible to just relax when you need to do so? Because screw that... I am tired of feeling like a bus hit me, while simultaneously wracked by guilt at ‘skiving off work’.

- a week later -

Good news! I am much better now. And look at the cute pic, Griffin from www.watkykjy.co.za made for me.

Hi everyone

I’m back! Miss me?

What... you didn’t even notice I was gone? :-)

Well, it was just a few stolen days of leave here and there, so that I could sneak in some time with the sons while they were on holiday without having to cut too hectically into the leave I must store up for the end of year break.

(Don’t you just love that while working women get on average 15 days leave a year, our children get at least 3 months off? It’s such a marvel of modern society, isn’t it?)

I also took some time to read all the amazing letters in response to my ‘I’m okay, you’re okay’ newsletter of two weeks back. Over 200 of you wrote in, mostly letters much longer than my own mail, and the overwhelming majority were so heart-warmingly supportive you brought tears to my eyes. Thanks, chicks. You make being honest so incredibly rewarding.

Many also asked why I’ve stopped writing about my children on Women24, which is a very easy question to answer. Since we launched Parent24 at the end of 2008, my family stories have all gone there. But it’s a good point – being a mother is such a big part of me, it’s kinda disingenuous to separate that part of me out.

Especially today, as my kids went back to school this morning – armed with brand new shoes and space cases – and a chunk of my heart went with them. And I know, like Tania, Rebecca and Deblet, many of you have similar heart issues this week.

Despite being flushed with relief to have our family routine back, I find it hard when the boys go back to school, because that’s where they are learning to grow up without me. And as anyone I love will know, I am nothing if not controlling.

So I am feeling soppy today. While I love my job, being with my boys is my favourite thing in the world. Because, and I am sure you know what I mean here, they are just so obviously the bestest and funniest children on the planet.

Like on Monday, when we were playing excruciatingly poor lunchtime mini-golf, my eldest, 11-year-old Josef, leant on his putter at some point and remarked dryly, “It appears  that the laws of physics decree that I shall always have to mark it 5. I’m going to have to learn how to lose with style, aren’t I?”

That comment just so sums up Josef; it make my heart squeeze itself.

And 9-year-old Benj? Well, on the 18th hole, he threw himself to his knees as his ball vanished down the hole.

“No! 18 is too young to die! We had so much living to do together! We could have beaten the world together! Why? Why?”

I am so chuffed that these are the two people who are going to be choosing my old age home.

And with that soppiness in mind, I thought it would be nice if this week, I call on all other relieved but slightly bereft mothers to share their favourite (funny, silly or just heart-warming) kid anecdotes from the holidays with us on Parent24. Because motherhood is just better when shared.

Love and little people

Sam

P.S. Oh, and don’t take this as a change of tack. I promise to continue writing about my more risqué antics as well. Because all of us are so much more than the cardboard cut-outs of other people’s perceptions... and that’s what Women24 is all about.

This is the post from my newsletter, 2 weeks ago, that received an overwhelming response from Women24ers. Clearly this hit home for more than just me. (To sign up for my weekly mailer, if you haven't already... chick here.)

Hi everyone

It took me a while to choose the letter of the week today, because well – the one I knew I was going to choose hurt my feelings. Check it out below.

(Charla actually didn't send me the letter personally, she sent it to the News24 editor's box... hence the 3rd person concerns.)

Obviously, I get quite a few letters like this, but this one was ... well... very well reasoned, and not so vitriolic.  And while one of my few personal editorial rules is not to whine to readers about getting flak (I believe my job description includes the line 'Suck it up, chick.'), I felt this one was worth discussing, because of the familiarity of the feelings she evoked in me. And how sure I am that many of you know this feeling.

 There's a switch that flicks when you become a mother; all of a sudden, society requires you to make decisions that it believes are right for your children first, and yourself second. And while I think most, if not all, mothers feel this personally too... there's a disjunct often, between what society thinks is best for you and your children, and what you know in your heart is right.

For those of us trying to be the best mothers we can be, while fighting against morphing into Stepford Mothers – this is an unbelievably raw space.

When I read the letter below (and Charla, I really appreciate you taking the time to send it), it shook me – not because it expressed disapproval of my depression management and my drinking, but because it touched on how that may affect my children.

Because, like any mother with flaws, that's my most painful pressure point. And however much I may want to kneejerk back with details on how I feel my life choices, on the whole, IMPROVE my sons' lives... that's not the real issue here.

The real issue is how susceptible we are to criticism from other women. And how difficult it us for us to simply embrace each other, warts and all. And how much the lives of women generally would improve if we could crack that.

Above all though, for me – it's about how important raw honesty is when talking to other women – because that's the only way we can learn to trust each other... and accept ourselves.

Hi,

I've been reading the Women24 newsletter for a very long time now – something I look forward to whenever it appears in my inbox. The fact that this newsletter is written by a woman more or less my age and someone we all can associate with – not some sort of glamour girl – makes this a very successful endeavour. I assume you have a lot of readers who feel the same way I do. Over the last few months, or perhaps even year, I started feeling a bit uncomfortable when reading the newsletter and it has come to the point where I feel I should at least write you in order to voice my concern. I've read things about depression, not taking the necessary pills and alcohol abuse from the author over the last few months. What worries me the most is the fact that children are involved and I can only hope that the father looks after them when the mother is out drinking (too much) every so often. Like I've mentioned earlier, I'm sure a lot of women read this newsletter and even if the author's life is relatively 'sheltered' and her husband picks up after her when she can't, there are a lot of (young) women out there who might think this is cool and the way to deal with their (personal) problems. I really like the author's writing style, but would it be asking too much to perhaps reign in stories about getting drunk (especially when depression is involved), even if there's a lot to celebrate? I thought it was really funny when I read about a little drunken episode last year, but then it happened again and again and now it's just embarrassing to read. But perhaps this is just the latest unhealthy trend in South Africa? And while I'm at it - no swearing please - it comes across as very unprofessional, but perhaps that's what Women24 want...

Thanks!
Charla

Let's make the circle bigger!

Right. Everyone? It's time.

We just came back from 15 minutes of blowing the fokken GEES out of our little orange vuvuzelas at the midday road rave.

Zooty Gautrains are whizzing about, Ferris wheels are spinning, cars are flag-festooned and some adorable folk have taken Cape Town's most cherished monument to 'doh!' – The Highway to Nowhere – and finally given it a purpose. A giant vuvuzela stand!

Could we be more amped?!

I know nothing about soccer, so obviously, I've been boning up.

"Kelebetseng?" I asked. "I need your help. I have to choose a back pocket country."

"What?! " she shrieked. "You aren't supporting Bafana?"

"Of course, I am!" I said defensively. "But much as I love Lili's whole if wishes were ponies take on the chances of their success... they ARE ranked 83 in a competition of only 32. I need a second country to whip out when I need to. Now, who do you recommend?"

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "The Spanish boys are VERY cute. As are the Italians, the Brazilians and the Greek. In fact, there's something about soccer players... even the English, US and Slovenians are pretty damn droolworthy."

I drew myself up to my full editorial height. (Which is slightly taller than Kele's 5 foot.)

"How rude," I rebuked. "I want to make a real, informed decision. It's not all about the drool, you know. Who are the significant sex rogues? Which Wag is destined to take over from Her Wagesty? And is Becks really HERE? Really? REALLY?"

Sometimes, I really relish frivolousness for frivolity's sake.

I also love that we are showcasing our very special brand of patriotism. That plastic trumpets make up our ear-shattering orchestra of choice. That we had eschewed all carefully brand-positioned songs like the Diski and the Waka Waka song, and have embraced 'make the circle bigger!' as our 2010 theme, complete with silly hand movements and a completely disarming disregard for anything but that one line.

I just love that if you remove the politicians and the odd dick, we ROCK as a country.

Screw who wins. Let's just show them how a supposedly partisan nation parties.

And if you've got a pic of yourself blowing a vuvuzela... send it in so that we can add it to ours!

Yours, riding the rainbow

Sam

Here's a quote from The Tao of Motherhood,  a book my mother gave me years ago, and that I found today while planning my Mother's Day post for Women24's weekly newsletter.

Perspective

Remember, you and your child

are travelers through infinite time.

How you interact is important

enough to change lifetimes of

karma; yet it is an insignificant

drop in the ocean of relationship

through which you both move.

Keep in mind the endless nature

of being, and your journey will

gain perspective.

Nice, isn't it? Thoughts?

Last weekend, Lili had a birthday party. At about 3am, she came to sit next to me under the DJ table.

“Are you having fun?” she shouted over the music, leaning her hand behind me.

“Lots!” I screamed back. “But I think there’s some broken glass behind me, so be careful!”

Lili grimaced.

“I think it’s too late,” she said, holding up a hand with blood literally fountaining out of it.

And so the party drew to a fairly abrupt close, with Lili being ferried off to the emergency room, and the rest of us, fairly nonchalantly collecting up the balloons and settling the bar tab. You see, ALL Lili’s parties end in some impressive injury... so we weren’t that phased.

We had a similar scene at my birthday party this weekend, when my inner awesomeness overcame my corporeal self during a rather robust dance with my brother Sean.... causing me to wipe out in a comprehensively amusing manner.

“What are you doing on the floor, with your leg at that weird angle?” shouted Lili, sashaying over, in a boogying kind of way.

“I’m waiting for the excruciating pain in my knee to settle before I try to stand up again!” I shrieked up at her, fairly happily. “I may need an extra shot.”(Injuries are always slightly removed when you’re drunk, aren’t they?).

So back at work today, with bandaged hand and strapped up knee, we find ourselves contemplating the lore of party injuries.

As far as we can work out, there are very set categories of party injuries:

•    The Spectacular Dance Injury. I am particularly prone to these (which is how I got the weak knee in the first place, jumping off the stage at a Die Antwoord concert last December). Only people who dance really badly, and with a great deal of verve, seem to fall foul of these.

•    The Violently Bloody Injury. This is Lili’s speciality. In the time I have known her... she has sliced open her hand and her foot, lost the tip of her thumb and a portion of her baby toe. No one bleeds like Lili; it’s ridiculous.

•    The Unexplained Bruise aka UPIs (Unexplained Party Injuries). Most of us get this one, right? When you wake up, hungover, to discover bewilderingly purple patches in the most peculiar places.  Best not to think too long on ‘em, in my experience.

•    The Unsuspecting Bystander Injury. There’s always one of these... some poor person, minding their own business, who gets felled by a mosh or wildly gesticulating limb.

•    The ‘Watch This!’ Injury. Top tip: if there’s a physical feat you are rather proud of... don’t try to show people when you are drunk. Especially if it involves trying to spin a Bystander around in some way. (Deirdre? Until you stop volunteering to be the guinea pig in these, your neck is never going to fully recover.)

•    Carpet burns. Ja, your very own, skanky ‘I know what you did last night’ injury. I have a friend who specialises in these, but she’ll kill me if I name her.

Those are our top ones. Can you add any more? Or perhaps, just to make us feel slightly less sheepish, share your own most embarrassing party injury? Oh go on. Consider it a birthday gift to me.

Love and sparklers
 

My newsletter today is on party injuries, as I threw my birthday party this weekend and – as per usual – emerged with a mighty injury. But that’s just physical injuries. More interesting are the myriad of emotional injuries which we inflict upon ourselves at parties.

Mostly of the mortification variety.

The drunken SMS

I am AWFUL at this. Thank God I broke my smartphone in December, so for the last 4 months I have been dragging around a brick that I cannot operate pissed... and have saved myself untold embarrassment. For whenever I am drunk, I ask people I shouldn’t to come around, I send the wrong texts to the wrong people (Shame, poor Andrea must be beginning to think I really do want to shag her)

The blurt

I am forever telling people what I really think of them drunk. Luckily, I rarely spend time with people I don’t like when trashed, ever since the infamous incident where Lili sidled up to me and blurted to the woman talking to me: “Oh gosh, don’t talk to Sam too long. She really doesn’t like you and if she’s not telling you that yet, she soon will.”

Nice Lil.

But even when it’s people I DO like, I still have significant Blurt. Like, last weekend: “So, I don’t think you like your girlfriend as much as she likes you. Is that true? Cos that’s no premise for a relationship. I think...”

Omgomgomgomgomgomg. Sigh.

The violent cry

Aka ‘die tjank wat in die pos was’. Just because you need to have a violent cry about your mom, your boss, your sexuality or your weight... doesn’t mean the poor fucker next to the punch bowl needs to hold you while you dissolve into a pool of snot, tears and self- indulgent disclosure.

Oh God. I am going to stop now and let you finish the list... after all, it’s my birthday today, and I don’t need to dredge up EVERY drunken memory, surely? J

Go on. Spill. It’s only kind. What’s your worst emotional (or physical) party injury?

Sam’s weekly Women24 editorial newsletter goes out on a Wednesday. Click here to sign up for it. Click here to follow Sam on Twitter.

Lili turned 30 this weekend, and we had a GIANT skop at LBs.... dancing, dancing, dancing dancing.

Best bit? Lili's husband Charlie gave her a BASS GUITAR for her birthday. Isn't that the coolest 30th present EVER?

Anyway, their friend Griffin from watkykyjy sent me the following pic this morning.

My newsletter's about this today... but I thought I'd do a mini-blog post about my heroes too.

* Howard Zinn (and I won't rehash why and where, I'll just link back. Don't you love the interwebs?)

* Noam Chomsky - for just being so unbelievably well-read, and morally centred and indescribably clever.

* Ursula K Le Guin - She's actually my favourite favourite, but because Zinn and Chomsky kinda go together, I left her 'til the bottom. I remember when I first discovered her work as a teenager (I read EarthSea while sitting in a syringa tree at the bottom of our Bryanston garden as a 14-year-old).

She, more than any other person (other than Andreas) has set the course of my world view. She is a Taoist, feminist, anarchist and pacifist - and manags to make it sound if not easy, then totally do-able.

And she's funny. And writes like such a Goddess that she makes my heart sing, whether I am reading her novels or her essays.

She's also the only person I've ever written a fan letter to. And yes, she did write back. Kinda. :)

Right. Your turn.

Sam’s weekly Women24 editorial newsletter goes out on a Wednesday. Click here to sign up for it. Click here to follow Sam on Twitter.

I got this idea from @Kerry Haggard on Twitter, and her link to www.1000awesomethings.com and it fit so completely with how I am feeling today...I thought I’d start a Women24 10 Awesome Things Challenge.

Okay, here are my 10:

• The way my sons curl their feet up onto my legs when I spoon them, as we snuggle in our giant bed in the middle of the night. I am a sucker for fluffy-haired, sleepy, midnight interlopers, and I just adore that stolen snuggle moment.

• The way Andreas smiles softly yet awkward-eagerly at me across the dinner table when we are out on a rare twosome date.

• When my deskmate Parent24 editor Adele and I laugh about something monumentally silly, but our laughs share a resonance which just makes us guffaw harder and longer in delight.

• The sneaky chill of an autumn evening, hinting at the fires and cocooning to come.

• A very sharp, brand new pencil... and that very first word you write with it.

• Putting your head underwater on a very hot day, and feeling your actual brain cool with deliciousness.

• Seeing your loved one from across the room before he sees you... and feeling your stomach drop.

• Coming home from work and being enveloped in the evening smells from your garden: jasmine, rosemary, basil, oregano... whatever makes up your garden.

• Unwrapping a fresh bar of really great soap. And it’s first lather.

• Pulling a well worn jersey over your head, and that fluffy-headed warmness that then creeps over you, making you want to hug yourself in glee.

Right that’s me. Over to you.

Sam’s weekly Women24 editorial newsletter goes out on a Wednesday. Click here to sign up for it. Click here to follow Sam on Twitter.

Enough with the bullying, ANCYL, we've all had enough.

If you'd like to echo these sentiments (which are in turn being echoed by me) - please do your own version of this post and add your name to the blog roll below. Then tweet/Facebook about it too.

The hash tag is #SpeakZA

The post we are sharing is:

Last week, shocking revelations concerning the activities of the ANC Youth League spokesperson Nyiko Floyd Shivambu came to the fore. According to a letter published in various news outlets, a complaint was laid by 19 political journalists with the Secretary General of the ANC, against Shivambu. This complaint letter detailed attempts by Shivambu to leak a dossier to certain journalists, purporting to expose the money laundering practices of Dumisani Lubisi, a journalist at the City Press. The letter also detailed the intimidation that followed when these journalists refused to publish these revelations.

We condemn in the strongest possible terms the reprisals against journalists by Shivambu. His actions constitute a blatant attack on media freedom and a grave infringement on Constitutional rights. It is a disturbing step towards dictatorial rule in South Africa. We call on the ANC and the ANC Youth League to distance themselves from the actions of Shivambu. The media have, time and again, been a vital democratic safeguard by exposing the actions of individuals who have abused their positions of power for personal and political gain.

The press have played a vital role in the liberation struggle, operating under difficult and often dangerous conditions to document some of the most crucial moments in the struggle against apartheid. It is therefore distressing to note that certain people within the ruling party are willing to maliciously target journalists by invading their privacy and threatening their colleagues in a bid to silence them in their legitimate work.

We also note the breathtaking hubris displayed by Shivambu and the ANC Youth League President Julius Malema in their response to the letter of complaint. Shivambu and Malema clearly have no respect for the media and the rights afforded to the media by the Constitution of South Africa. Such a response serves only to reinforce the position that the motive for leaking the so-called dossier was not a legitimate concern, but an insolent effort to intimidate and bully a journalist who had exposed embarrassing information about the Youth League President.  

We urge the ANC as a whole to reaffirm its commitment to media freedom and other Constitutional rights we enjoy as a country.

Blog Roll:

http://thoughtleader.co.za/siphohlongwane
http://rwrant.co.za
http://vocfm.co.za/blogs/munadia/
http://vocfm.co.za/blogs/shafiqmorton/
http://blogs.news24.com/needpoint
http://capetowngirl.co.za
http://thoughtleader.co.za/sentletsediakanyo
http://thoughtleader.co.za/davidjsmith
http://letterdash.com/one-eye-only
http://boyuninterrupted.blogspot.com
http://amandasevasti.com
http://blog.empyrean.co.za/
http://letterdash.com/brencro
http://6000.co.za
http://chrisroper.co.za
http://pieftw.com
http://hamishpillay.wordpress.com
http://memoirs4kimya.blogspot.com
http://thoughtleader.co.za/azadessa
http://watkykjy.co.za
http://fredhatman.co.za
http://thelifeanddeathchronicles.blogspot.com/
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/common-dialogue/
http://clivesimpkins.blogs.com/
http://mashadutoit.wordpress.com
http://nicharalambous.com
http://sarocks.co.za
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/stompies/
http://helenmoffett.book.co.za/blog/
http://01universe.blogspot.com
http://groundwork.worpress.com
http://iwrotethisforyou.me
http://fionasnyckers.book.co.za
http://attentiontodetail.wordpress.com
http://blogs.women24.com/editor
http://www.missmillib.blogspot.com
http://snowgoose.co.za
http://dreamfoundry.co.za
http://www.vanoodle.blogspot.com
http://www.exmi.co.za
http://cat-dubai.blogspot.com
http://alistairfairweather.com
http://www.zanedickens.com
http://www.nickhuntdavis.com
http://guysa.blogspot.com
http://book.co.za
http://baldy.co.za
http://skinnylaminx.com
http://blogs.african-writing.com/zukiswa
http://www.mielie.wordpress.com
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/gatherer/
http://thoughtleader.co.za/sarahbritten
http://stii.co.za
http://blogs.news24.com/FSB_AP
http://twistedkoeksuster.blogspot.com
http://whensmokegetsinyoureyes.blogspot.com/
http://trinklebean.wordpress.com
http://commentry.wordpress.com/
http://matthewbuckland.com
http://blogs.news24.com/colour-me-fran
http://gormendizer.co.za
http://helenmoffett.book.co.za/blog/
http://www.harassedmom.co.za
http://ravingfans.co.za
http://khadijapatel.co.za
http://simon.co.za/speakza
http://gnatj.com
http://moralfibre.co.za
http://www.exmi.co.za
http://fsi.org.za/

Hi Body

Gosh, this is harder than I thought it would be. I find that, being a feminist who hates the idea of dieting and being stick thin and worrying about one's body all the time, while also being a woman who is NOT stick thin and worries about her body all the time... has left us kinda on non-speaking terms.

Which is so unfair. Because you've been so good to me. Have you seen our boys lately? Those strong little legs as they grow and grow and thump around the house? Those smiles, those trellis-climbing, mud-seeking missiles we built? Fuck, that was a good job, Body. Couldn't have melded that magic without you, that's for sure.

Sure, I am a bit pissed about the persistent tummy after the babies though. I mean, I didn't really get the whole apron stomach thing, until I actually GOT an apron stomach. And the breasts... well, I feel our love/hate relationship sits right there, by our heart, doesn't it? I find my breasts so embarrassingly huge, so out there, so... in everyone's face. But then I come home, and a kid jumps on me and nuzzles them nonchalantly, proudly - or I wear a low top and Dreas gets all eye-popped and smilely... and then I feel: 'fuck, yeah, Breasts."

I like our face, Body. I think it's pretty - not so pretty as to freak people out, but pretty enough for people to smile back at it with ease. And I do like our smile. Oh, and I quite like our hair too.

I also like that we are so bendy, Body. Being able to do a headstand on a whim, and sometimes even when drunk... that's no mean feat. And the whole hands flat on the floor when touching my toes thing is pretty cool.

Oh, and thanks for the orgasms. Those are a real bonus.

Can I sign off now? I feel very awkward. I know this wasn't particularly loving, but it's a start isn't it? Isn't it? What? Me, defensive, Body? Khuh. You're imagining it.

PS I can't believe Meagan made me do this. She is SO going to pay.

Hi everyone

We had a great Women24 Editorial Meeting yesterday, chatting excitedly about the Oscars. We cooed over the great dresses, tutted over the dodgy ones and generally enjoyed the hell out of the fact that pointless celeb gossip is actually part of our job description.

"How awful did SJP look?" shrieked Kelebetseng happily.

"Awful!" we all shrieked back at her.

"And how incredible did Queen Latifah look?" exclaimed Lili. "And she wore satin! She can pull off a satin ball gown!"

"Incredible!" we cooed happily in unison.

"And how gorgeously, unbelievably shaggable is Alec Baldwin?" I cried out, with feeling.

Significant silence, while the entire Women24 team examine their shoes with uncanny intensity.

"Fine," I said, sulkily. "Make me feel old and awkward. Because my ego isn't already sagging under the pressure of all those sexy size 2 movie stars, 10 years older and a billion times sexier than me."

"Please," said Kelebetseng, patting my hand comfortingly. "Those stick insects, sexy? Get over yourself, girl."

 I stared at her for a moment.

"OMG, this is such a white chick thing, isn't it?" I yelled angrily. "How come only black women get to look absolutely fantastic when carrying some weight? I'm around Queen Latifah's size, and the thought of draping my body in unforgiving satin and addressing a room full of sparkling celebu-lollipops and a planetful of gossipy women is UNTHINKABLE. I wouldn't do it if you gave me Alec Baldwin himself, let alone a puny Oscar!"

Am I right, do you think? Is there a race thing at play here? Are black women more comfortable in their bodies than white women?

Because looking at that audience of  overwhelmingly white "role models", I was struck by how similar they all looked. With their razor-sharp cheekbones and familiar Botoxed expression-free faces. Their bony little bodies awkwardly trussed up in moving-unfriendly clothing. The brittle, careful little smiles. And how magnificently did the gorgeous Latifah, passionate Mo'Nique and yes, indescribably powerful Oprah, show those wraiths up?

It really made me feel embarrassed about the way I sometimes treat my body with such distaste.  And I know you do it too.

The whole conversation inspired our Wellness Editor Meagan to  write a love letter to her body, which made me a little misty when I read it.

I think most of us owe our bodies a letter like this. Come on, write one for yourself. It'll be cathartic. We'll post a t-shirt to the woman who sends in the nicest one, whatever hue you might be. br>

Sam

P.S. And speaking of the magnificence of women's bodies... check out these birth galleries on Parent24. Now those are bodies worth worshipping.

I have embarrassing confessions to make.

You know how sometimes, regardless of how old you are, you discover this huge hole in your basic knowledge? Something that absolutely everyone else can’t remember NOT knowing?

I hope this happens to you too, because it happens to me a lot. (Dreas’s favourite? When he found out I thought the West Indies were right next to New Zealand. In fact, as soon as he gets this newsletter, he’s going to phone and laugh at me again, even though it happened 15 years ago.)

Anyway, my most recent embarrassing knowledge lacuna was revealed last week.

“How can DSTV get a porn channel?” I asked Andreas, vexed. “Porn is illegal!”

Dreas made his eyes all buggy and swung his head and shoulders about a bit.

“But Sammy, how could you possibly think that pornography is still illegal? It’s a multi-billion dollar industry!” he said, completely incredulous. “There’s an Adult World on every corner! What do you think is happening in them?”

“I thought it was like dope,” I said defensively. “Something that’s illegal, but lots of people do fairly openly anyway. And I thought Adult World sold crappy sex toys.”

Dreas shook his head sadly at me. 

Which brings me to my second confession. Once, when I was 19, I saw 10 minutes of a porno and it freaked me out so much, I couldn’t have sex for three months. (Again, Andreas was less than impressed. Especially because he wasn’t even there for the 10 minutes.)

I just really, really, really hate porn. Personally, I think sex with all the feelings removed looks awful, stupid and actively unappealing. Politically, I think porn epitomises all the things I hate about society: sexism, brutality, capitalism, cruelty and awful lighting. (Watch this documentary, The Price of Pleasure, if you want to explore this hatred, but be warned – you too won’t have sex for a while afterward.)

If I want to get turned on, I’ll think about something sexy...like that Edward and Bella scene from the first Twilight with the unbelievable long pre-kiss moment. Not some characterless person grinding on some other, more bendy, characterless person... it’s just not sexy to me at all.

I am, however, clued up enough to know that I am horribly in the minority with this view... and that one person’s ick is another person’s ‘yeah baby!’

Most of my friends (particularly Dot Black, but then she would, wouldn’t she?) enjoy porn, in various guises. Jean even did some Adult World field research lately.

But enough about me. Where do you stand on the porn issue?.  (Lili's 2c is in Afrikaans this week, go figure.) Be honest, because it’s interesting... and I promise: The ‘no judgies!’ rule is alive and well at Women24. I’d just really like to know.

Kimstories has already had her say. Join in the chat.

This post is from my Wednesday Editor's email, which you can sign up for here. You can also follow me on Twitter.

Message from Adele, our community person:

Hey everyone!

Yes! The time has finally arrived! We're finally ready to launch all the fabulous new features (and some bug fixes) that we've all been waiting for, for far too long!

Our launch is now scheduled for 12 noon on Monday the 1st of March! Personally, I can't wait!!

This does mean though, that we'll need to have some scheduled down time for the site as the new features require a bunch of database changes that will break the site and make things impossible for you. So instead of having you frustrated with trying to post etc, we're going to take the site down at 12 noon on Monday and bring it back up as soon as we can afterward. It may take an hour or three, so please be patient during that time.

After that ... I really hope (and trust) that you're all going to love the new features we've built in, and that you'll be pleased with the bugs that have been fixed so far.

We'll post on Monday straight after the launch to fill you in on everything that's changed so don't worry - you'll have a roadmap :) 

Immediately after the launch we'll be taking care of *all* the remaining bugs that have still been lurking around before we start the next phase of development which will include loads of even greater features that I know you'll all love!

Til Monday then!

Have a fabulous weekend!

Adele

Holding thumbs it all goes well. Let me know if you have problems.

Hi everyone

I was out for drinks the other night, (to celebrate my return to form post The Significant Sads) and I had one of those thoughtful moments where you sit quietly for a bit, and immerse yourself in the energy of those around you.

Lili was waving her arms and hair about, telling a story that was making our husbands laugh so hard, Charlie was actually holding his stomach. 

Rosie and Jean were sitting with their hands on each other's knees, listening to Tanya and Candice exchange one-liners. Neil caught my eye from across the group and raised his beer, with a soft smile.

And I thought: "Gosh, these are seriously nice folk."

In my mid-thirties, I find myself surrounded by friends aged anywhere between 20 and 50, who all share the traits that are most important to me: tolerance, kindness and curiosity. I also love a brave over-sharer, but those are few and far between.

Isn't it interesting how your friends reflect where you are in your life? I am also struck by how often (mostly younger) women and girls seem to cling to friendships that aren't good for them. Maybe it's because we don't really know who we are yet, or because we're drawn to difference in our 20s?

I'd love to hear your thoughts on friendship: what you look for in a good friend, what makes a good friend and the kind of things that make you walk away? Or... and this would be interesting...  is friendship just not that important to you?

Love (with the lights back on!)
  Oh, I have dreadful news. There has recently been such a run on our "Well-behaved women seldom make history" t-shirts, that we have to print more. But... please continue telling us why you deserve one, just know there's going to be a little wait.

Last month, one of my greatest personal heros, Howard Zinn, died. He was old, he died peacefully after a full life of love, curiosity, teaching, bravery and activism... but it still made me sad.

Last night, the media collective that Andreas and I belong to, While You Were Sleeping, screened You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train as a tribute. I really thought it was just going to be a handful of us... or even, perhaps just Andreas and I sobbing into our popcorn and slushies.

But we managed to pack out the Labia's main theatre, which was just so fantastic for us. The screening was followed by a really nice discussion as well, leaving me feeling all warm and happy.

It also reminded me that there are many of us who know in our moral centres that capitalism is wrong, and that war cannot fix anything... but we have so few teachers on what to do with this knowledge, or how to expand it into ideas of action not merely despair.

Howard Zinn will always be one of my teachers. I hope some of you fall for him too.

To find out more about the screenings of While You Were Sleeping, follow us on Twitter or Facebook.