Monday, January 27, 2014

The Godfather

I went to my godfather's house today, for his birthday.

I felt deeply uncomfortable. Here's why:

  • A lot of racist words were said in swahili (my dad's an african-indian)
  • godfather's friends were talking about operation yewtree people who got caught doing horrible stuff to kids and saying stuff to suggest that it was the kids fault 
  • 6 of them were dressed like elvis, 2 of them even had a naff customised shirt with a collar that went up to their fucking ears
  • the way the women treated me was very uncomfortable, there was a tacit yet clear division of physical and emotional labour, even the way that the seating plan of the room was organised was sexist, in my godfather's world, men are the master of women - I ain't for that world.
  • This guy was the host of a party but made the guests do stuff in the house - because they were women. That's all kinds of disapproval words - ignorant, ridiculous, rude etc.
This week, my friend who is having a baby asked me to be a Godfather. I see the behaviour of one man, and I am inevitably led to think of my own. In my culture, a godfather has a special bond to a male godchild. It's a positive influence and a constructive one, but not if its someone like my Godfather. I don't want to be like him, but I wonder exactly how clean my own laundry is. I'm not the best person in the world either. I have my flaws. 

I want to be better. I need to be better.
 I need to do better.

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