To be a black mother is to manage the rage of others while growing joyous black children. This is no easy task | The Guardian

In an essay for Melbourne writers’ festival, Australian author Sisonke Msimang reflects on paying attention in a painful worldI have always paid attention to words. When I was in primary school my favourite words were “zenith” and “apogee”. I liked them because no one else knew what they meant – even adults – and because even though they looked so different, their meanings were similar.My uncle would look at me with delight when I used one of my precious words. My aunties would proudly crow about my “good” English. At school, I wrote essays filled with these words – they littered my paragraphs like semi-precious stones. My teachers commended me. I was precocious. I assumed – like all children – that writing was a matter of paying attention to words. Continue reading…

In an essay for Melbourne writers’ festival, Australian author Sisonke Msimang reflects on paying attention in a painful world

I have always paid attention to words. When I was in primary school my favourite words were “zenith” and “apogee”. I liked them because no one else knew what they meant – even adults – and because even though they looked so different, their meanings were similar.

My uncle would look at me with delight when I used one of my precious words. My aunties would proudly crow about my “good” English. At school, I wrote essays filled with these words – they littered my paragraphs like semi-precious stones. My teachers commended me. I was precocious. I assumed – like all children – that writing was a matter of paying attention to words.

Continue reading…