Published: July 04, 2019
I know intimately the poisonous experience of colonial racism, but I also know that hard boundaries cut us off from each other
I grew up in a small, tight-knit community of mixed race people on the edge of the British empire. The population of what was then called Swaziland (now Eswatini) was divided into white Europeans, black “native” Swazis and those who fell into the awkward space between.
I was born and raised in that awkward space. Even as a child, I knew my brown skin and green eyes set me apart. In a country where interracial marriage was banned, we were proof that someone, somewhere, had been very naughty indeed. We were the living, breathing result of a sin; sex across the colour line.
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