Taffy’s story
My name is Taffy. My family is blessed to call New Zealand home. We are citizens here. I am married to Arthur and we have a daughter, Maimai, and she’s 8 years old.
Before moving to New Zealand, my family had lived in 22 countries, including France, the United Kingdom, Australia and Canada.
We chose to settle in beautiful New Zealand because it is considered one of the safest countries in the world and the best country by far to raise children. We love it here.
So how do I describe my cultural background when meeting people for the first time?
Well.
The “black” and “white” labels have always made me uncomfortable. We identify as a family of African ethnicity and we are fiercely proud of our Zimbabwean heritage.
Speaking of colour. . . I remember calling a school holiday programme to check if my daughter was back from an off-site day.
The lady on the phone said, “Oh, you’re calling about that black kid. Yes, she’s back.”
I immediately corrected her, advising her to refer to my daughter by her name as opposed to the colour of her skin — which is brown, by the way.
She countered by informing me: “This is how we refer to people who look like you in New Zealand, and if you don’t like that, then go back where you came from.”
Suffice to say, in our family, we don’t subscribe to the whole “black” and “white” thing. We choose to see the beauty of the people around us — gorgeous humans and friends who are worthy of love and respect. I wish more people would choose to look at life through this very simple lens, too.
IN MY humble opinion, the only thing that should be separated by colour is laundry.
Referring to someone by the colour of their skin fosters discrimination and exclusion. Not only that, it is also hurtful and unkind.
The point is, there is so much gold that lies beneath the colour of one’s skin, we simply need to train our minds and hearts to look beyond skin colour.
I am opting to be “colour brave” as opposed to being “colour blind”.
Just because we look different due to the pigmentation of our skin does not mean we will harm you, rob you or pass on some ghastly disease.
Neither does it mean we are uneducated, refugees or freeloaders.
Be brave enough to come over and chat to us and challenge your own unconscious biases and assumptions about us and anyone who looks different from you — I promise you, you will be pleasantly surprised.
This is how we will make sustainable changes that will make New Zealand a more inclusive and welcoming community.
HERE IS why George Floyd’s story is relevant to my own journey as an African mother living in New Zealand and the reasons why so many of us care so deeply about the events that led to his death.
I watched all eight minutes 46 seconds of the video and to say I was traumatised is an understatement.
You see, when George cried out for his mama, in his deepest, darkest hour of need, I cried with him and for him.
How many of you can identify with that pain — when your baby cries for you, knowing that mama is the only person in the world who can make things better?
Even though his mama was deceased, in his most terrifying last minutes, struggling to breathe, he cried out for her.
I would like to think that somehow, he believed she would come to his rescue.
Surely some of you can relate to that moment in some way because this has a lot to do with empathy, and I know as New Zealanders, we have a lot of that.
In that moment, as George lay there in the final hours of his life, I saw my husband. I saw my dad. I saw my brother — lying there, in his place, not able to breathe.
As George cried out for his mama, the love he had for her was almost tangible, so real I could almost hear and feel it.
There was no denying that in his final moments, he knew his mother had loved him fiercely and would have intervened, if she could.
How can we choose to remain silent in the face of such sadness? How does this not affect me and how does this not affect us?
How can we choose to not care in the face of such injustice?
As humans, we are capable of such profound empathy for others — that is the beauty of our humanity.
New Zealand, we should care because the issue of racism is here, too. I refuse to let George Floyd’s death be in vain.
EACH PERSON living in this country deserves the right to feel safe, to live freely and be able to exercise freedom of expression.
We need to accept there are communities that are robbed of these basic human rights.
Freedom, dreaming of a future, and safety are a luxury that some cannot afford.
My heart breaks.
The good news is that things don’t have to stay this way if we make room for change.
Racism is a problem that exists and affects so many in New Zealand. This is relevant to our world and all it takes to fix this is kindness.
As a mother, I am speaking up because things need to change.
My daughter has had a tough time here. In her eight years, she has been told she’s ugly, that she looks like a black pig and that she must go back where she came from.
Then we have the common, “My mummy told me not to play with you because you’re black.”
Children are beautiful — so innocent, loving and accepting. Hate is definitely something they are taught; so is racism.
So what is it like for me living here, as a woman of African ethnicity?
This year alone, my hair has been painfully yanked several times because, “you black girls never have real hair anyway”.
I have to think twice about standing up for myself lest I am accused of being “an angry black woman”. I am often advised to turn the other cheek.
While shopping at Botany Town Centre with my daughter this year, we were approached by a man who blatantly informed us, “N ***** s shouldn’t walk on the pavement. Know your place.”
We cannot ignore that there are many more untold stories and voices out there that speak volumes about the atrocities that people of colour and families from marginalised
I am opting to be ‘colour brave’ as opposed to being ‘colour blind’.
communities have suffered and continue to endure because we look different.
Racism is the elephant in the room and the ugly story that most people in this country don’t want to hear BUT we have to talk about it because silence is tantamount to complicity.
It’s high time we break the cycle and rebel against remaining silent.
The way I see it, the only way we can start to move forward towards positive transformation together is by having the tough conversations.
We can do this. In fact, we are doing it now.
THERE IS a bigger picture to this and the danger of a single story is real.
Our life in New Zealand, despite some of the challenges we have had to navigate around our race, is full of beautiful humans who restore our faith in humanity, over and over again.
It’s not all doom and gloom. In fact, our life is amazing.
A heart-warming story . . . when my daughter returned to school after lockdown, beautiful kids literally formed a circle of love around her.
Their parents had seemingly told them about the #blacklivesmatter movement and they reached out to Maimai.
One by one, they took turns to share something they liked about her, reminding her that she is safe, loved, beautiful, and most importantly, that she belongs.
That is a true testimony about the inherent goodness of humanity.
Another happy story I want to share. A few weeks ago, we had a beautiful lady approach us at Botany Town Centre.
She turned out to be Kara Woskett, an international photographer. She invited us for a complimentary photo shoot in her fancy studio as a random act of kindness. Well! We recently discovered that the images she took of us are trending and currently featured online by Vogue Italy!
Then the random hugs and waves and messages of love and support we receive are never-ending and incredibly heart-warming and uplifting.
We are very thankful to be surrounded by so many beautiful friends who embrace us and appreciate the gold that lies beneath the colour of our skin — a true attestation to the fact that the power of love transcends all racial barriers.
The reality is that not everyone gets to experience the silver linings in their clouds, as we do.
I needed to share some of my story because it is the story of many others who are too scared to speak up.
This is my investment towards change and towards a brighter future for everyone who looks different, sounds different or struggles to fit in or be accepted in this country.
As a mother, I am driven to speak up in memory of the grown man who cried for his mama in his final minutes on this earth.
I am here, sharing my voice and my heart with you all, in the hope we can be kinder and more accepting of each other’s differences. This simple shift will transform lives in the most magical way — try it.
My voice is my response to my daughter crying out for her mama when the world has been unkind because of the colour of her skin.
My hope is that my daughter, Maimai, will have an easier future in this country. Speaking up is the best legacy I can pass on to her and generations to come.