Little black boys

19 08 2012

This post is probably going to annoy some of you, but I hope you understand its context… it is pretty racist.

There was a bizarre meme in our family which began with my Grandmother, as far as I can tell.

My Gran had died before my birth in 1965, and I understand that She married her Husband in 1900,
She grew up in a gold mining area near Ballarat, Education was very limited and of course She had God pushed into her from an early age.

My Gran, as far as I can tell, was a good Woman, although apparently fairly strict, but wasn’t always the most logical person.

Before I go further, I have wondered if she had been exposed to the same sort of education as myself, would she have said particular things? I think she would have been a different, and better person.

Anyway, She used to say this thing, which became a meme in our family, and whenever it was said, it was done in a kind of sarcastic way, recalling my Grandmother and her odd ways.

Eyebrows were raised, heads would shake, there’d be these rye smiles and a chuckle.

Whenever a new pot was bought into the house, a bottle, a jug, a new set of mugs, anything which could hold liquid, the meme would be uttered.

“Make sure you wash that first, a little black boy might’ve peed in it!”

Are you shocked? I totally agree if you are, it’s quite awful.

Mum used to wonder why the pee of a little black boy might be worse than the pee of anyone else, and why anyone would have peed on, or in, these containers at the point of their manufacture anyway?

Where did the phrase originate? Someone must’ve told my Gran, and I wonder by who and when?

And I wonder now, whether my Gran wasn’t the only one to utter those words, have you heard of it before?

On a side note, My gran also used to say “Don’t stand on that cold floor with your bare feet, the cold will go straight to your kidneys” Well we always thought that was odd, but years later I studied Chinese medicine and found, in that, the belief is a meridian line to your kidneys ends in your feet, and that standing on a cold floor is indeed bad for your kidneys (at least in Chinese medicine).

There were a lot of Chinese around gold fields, and herbalists… So the saying came from there.

I hadn’t thought about our mysterious little black boy, whoever he was, for quite some time.

However, I bought a nice green bowl today at Coles for when I have Thai Takeaway, and yes Gran, I washed the bowl thoroughly and raised an eyebrow in your memory.




8 05 2012

It’s a strange thing, you have parents who won’t allow a piercing or a tattoo, but will happily circumcise their child without question.

I was lucky, I had escaped it, but only just.

My Mother had two very difficult births, The first one Eighteen years before me, My Sister. And I appeared in the mid 60s when Mum was in her 40s and thought her child bearing days were over.

In those days they used Ether on patients in hospitals, and it was apparently pretty terrible stuff… it smelt awful, it almost put the surgical staff to sleep too and waking up later took a long time and the room would spin.

The smell would also waft out of surgery and along the ward, making patients feel dreadful.

Forceps were used to pull me out, probably because I’d heard something about how awful the World was. Poor Mum was on Ether.

I emerged and Mum woke to a spinning room and thought she heard a nurse tell her that she had a boy.

Later, when She was more “with it” her Doctor walked in and said “You’ve got a Boy, And He’s a dear little chap”… She made a sound like “urghhh” Because the one thing she didn’t fancy, was a boy.

Mum told me this on each and every Birthday, so I know it by heart.

I was placed in a humidi-crib which were a fairly recent invention at the time (An Australian Invention too), I don’t think I was an early baby, I think I was put there because of the trauma Mum and I had just been through.

Dad and My Sister, Janice… Were the first to see me, and apparently I was still covered in yuck which had to be cleaned off.

When Mum had regained her colour and was ready to go home, Dad popped the question.

“Has He been… you know…. done?”

Mum thought about it for a moment, and that’s all it took, All she wanted was to be home… She told Dad a fib.


There’s more to the story, but be aware that my Father took an active role in washing me, and also my Sisters kids… which were born not that many years after me, so everyone thought they were simply my younger Brother and Sister.

Now go forward about eighteen years.

Something about circumcision came up, and the word got out that I hadn’t been, you know… done.

Dads jaw dropped, and He asked me “Haven’t you?… You dirty thing” (Yes, myth number one, that the foreskin is somehow dirty… probably originated in the days when men took a monthly bath, or even a yearly one… but these days when it’s easy to shower twice a day, well… )

I’m really not sure if he was joking or not, you could never quite tell with Dad.

Anyway, that was a long story… and I only wanted to say something fairly short.

People talk about cutting the foreskin off or leaving it on, but they rarely ever say what the foreskin IS, except to assume that it’s just a bit of rubbish skin which nobody needs.

Women (who ought to know better, as they populate magazines with how holy their own bodies are) and Men who are cut and have no idea, don’t really know what a foreskin is, or what it’s like to have one.

And it’s dead simple, because you have two bits of skin with you right now which is exactly the same.

Your eye lids.

Go on, give them a feel, sensitive little buggers aren’t they?

See how they’re different underneath, same as the foreskin, except of course the foreskin doesn’t have lashes… how odd would that be?

Imagine not having them, that’d be nasty, right?

Think about it.


The first time that I was a disappointment to a girl.

4 01 2011

The 80’s was a rough time for me, I went to a school which scared me because others there were violent or just bullies or a combo of both, I had a few friends, but they were very timid too. I hated the place.

And I was going through puberty, strange things were happening to my body that made me feel shame, I had nobody to talk with about sex, I kept everything sexual under cover, it was never mentioned… I’d even shave till my skin was red to make out that nothing was happening, I never mentioned the shaving, I was dreadfully embarrassed about it as it was proof that I was growing up, although evidence of it could be seen, it was never mentioned, My Mum knew, but she didn’t know how to approach the problem, I think she tried once, but there was shouting and she backed down.

Dad just never seemed to notice anything.

My Cousin kept talking about girls and sex, quite openly and I didn’t like it, it made me feel uncomfortable.
He kept asking me when I would try it on with someone.

I kept telling Mum and Jan (My Sister) that I never would, but they’d give me the look and say that it’d be different when I was older.

Jan kept asking me when I’d make her an Aunt, half serious, half joking.

There came a point when I was in my 30s that they both realised that it wasn’t going to happen.

I fell in love with a girl once, when I was at high school, the whole thing came to a head while on an excursion somewhere with the school. I felt my feet floating off the ground, She never knew of course, She was my little red headed girl.

Anyway, teenage years.

My Cousin, had offered to take us out to his mates Italian restaurant, which had tables around a small dancefloor which nobody was using. I think we, the seven of us, Mum, Dad and I, My Cousin (Daryl) his Wife, Inga (Who was lovely) and their new baby, Kama. were one of only a few parties there.

I have a feeling this was all a bit pre-meditated by Daryl, it seems the kind of thing he’d do, I can’t believe that something like this would just happen out of the blue.

A girl, some girl, came over to the table and asked me if I wanted to dance. There was nothing wrong with her, I remember she was a little heavy, had pale skin and I’m pretty sure that she was blonde, she was nicely dressed and seemed nice.

I was confused, who was this person?

I couldn’t dance, what did she expect of me?

I knew that I’d be making a complete fool of myself, so I politely turned down her request.

She tried again, perhaps it seemed that if she whined enough, I’d get up and dance with her, that seemed to be a ploy that worked in the movies where the guy decides to be a gentleman, gets up, treats the lady to a dance and maybe they talk later, and she slaps his face or they kiss or James Bond turns up and the place gets shot up

I turned down her offer once more.

She was now pulling on my jacket, quite forcefully, Daryl was giggling, and I was feeling trapped and worried.
“No!” I yelled “Leave me alone!”

And She dropped me, I sat down and watched her walk away, crying.

I’m not sure how old I was, maybe fifteen.

Once in a while I think about this moment in time and wish it had been different, Yes she had gone about things the wrong way, but what if she’d been told that I loved dancing and if she pushed me, then I probably would have done so?

I wonder if this is what caused me to build that wall?

I love people, I love company, but there’s no love, falling in love is something I don’t do.

That evening was the last time I made a girl cry, and I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you that I’m really sorry.