MO GOES TO SOUTH AFRICA
A number of years ago, maybe eight, I get a call on a Monday that I am to fly to Cape Town, South Africa the next day to shoot a Food Network commercial.
Forget about the 20 hour flight, IN COACH, where I want to fling myself out of the plane above the Sal Islands where we stop to refuel. Forget about the days of disorientation during the shoot. The makeup artist (it’s always the makeup artist) says my dizziness is due to my chakras being affected by Table Mountain. Really? So you don’t think it has anything to do with being suspending in midair for a day?
She asks if I know Shaka Zulu. Forgive me, I am embarrassed to admit that at the time I did not. I know Chaka Chan, but that doesn’t impress. I have since learned that Shaka Zulu (real name: Shaka kaZenzangakhona) was the most influential leader of the Zulu people.
I learn a lot about South African history in a short time. Cape Town remains the most spectacular place I have visited. And not in a safari kind of way. I don’t do safari. There’s nothing appealing about proving I can be friends with a lion. Cape Town is far from safari-ish. It is where the mountains meet the sea. Beautiful, fragrant flowers blossom all around. Running along the harbor, I pass restaurants with abundant seafood. The dollar is strong (9 Rand to $1), so I order an appetizer of fresh fish for two. I am one and the plate is humongous. I’m embarrassed as an overflowing mound of shellfish is carried to my table, but I am happy. I buy drinks for the honeymooning couple next to me and ask them if they’d like a shrimp.
It looks safe and gorgeous here, but I am told not to walk alone after dark no matter how inviting and un-intimidating the road along the water looks. Walk directly from the restaurant to the taxi.
We finish shooting early and I decide on a trip to the District Six Museum over a hike up Table Mountain (and I like my hikes), but what a rare opportunity to peruse a museum dedicated solely to a neighborhood decimated by apartheid. 
The museum is quiet and I am given a one-to-one talk and tour by a man named Noor Ebrahim who grew up in District Six and was one of the more than 60-thousand people, mostly coloreds (as brown people were labeled) forced from their homes, many of which were bulldozed, when District Six was designated a “whites only” zone during apartheid in the 1960s.
Until then about 10% of Cape Town’s population; artists, shop owners, laborers, and immigrants, called District Six home. A mix of blacks, whites, and coloreds could worship, or not, at a mosque, church or temple. Noor tells me about the families he knew who were torn apart because of the color of their skin. A white woman and her black husband separated and forced to live in different communities. Their brown child made to live in a colored community.
The Race Classification Board made the final decision on a person’s race. People must carry documents identifying the group to which they belong. Interracial marriage is against the law. A brown or black woman making a living cleaning the office of a white doctor now has to endure the hardship of commuting 15 or more miles from outside of town without a car. Many lose their jobs.
These are the stories Noor tells me as we sit down on a “Europeans only” bench, a relic of just a few decades earlier. Apartheid ends in 1994, and some people like Noor are given the chance to reclaim the land on which their homes once stood – if they can afford to make that a reality. Some can. Many can’t.
Can a person ever reclaim a house once it’s been destroyed? Of course not. When I heard of Nelson Mandela’s passing yesterday, I thought of Noor and how the courage of a man like Mandela made it possible for him to go home again – not to a house – but to a place of dignity. That’s quite a legacy.
Noor Ebrahim’s book is called Noor’s Story: My Life in District Six.
A Store for Mean Girls
I was in LA doing the standup thing. As I ventured down Ventura Blvd in Studio City, I came upon a shop called Brandy Melville, LA. The store sells clothing to teen and college girls. Garments that make Victoria Secret models look overdressed. Little nothings for the “cool girls.” In the window, propped up on school books, is a sign that reads “You can’t sit with us.” Apparently, it is from the movie Mean Girls. Why not a sign that reads “You’re cool enough to bully?”
I wasn’t offended. I was angry. I have five nieces. I think of the crap some of them have to take for being unique, or smart, or not wearing what everyone else is wearing, or maybe not being able to afford what everyone else can afford. I thought of the teen girl I saw struggling to cross the street, her legs in braces, springs under the heels of her sneakers to propel her forward. Is this sign meant for them?
I called the corporate offices and asked to speak to the owner of the company. Apparently, he doesn’t take calls from uncool people like me. Gloria, that’s her name, told me she has been getting a lot of calls on that sign. Gloria assured me that the store doesn’t sell the sign, they only display it.
No, Brandy Melville isn’t selling the sign, they are selling the notion, the idea that shaming, bullying, and telling other kids “You can’t sit with with us” is “cool.” Well, I think it’s cool to tell everyone I know never to shop there or let their daughters or friends or nieces with developing brains shop there. Their message is clear, and all the books in their window can’t change that. Taking the sign down can. Until then, I hope my message is clear. Brandy Melville LA, sucks.
PS: I emailed the corporate offices but never heard back
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Posted in Comedy, Commentary, Reviews, Uncategorized, Women's Issues
Tagged Brandy Melville, bullying, Mean girls, Studio City