I went to co-ed schools up till the age of twelve. All my schooling (in the 80s and 90s) was in Westville, which is about 14km away from the Durban beachfront. Playschool was at Cygnet, and we were divided up into the Red, Blue, and Green Groups but all played together. Then when big school started, the little boys were given grey shorts and white shirts, and the girls blue dresses. We had classes together but separate playgrounds.
Once the difference between being a boy and a girl started to become obvious, I was pretty useless. I can still remember the line of the girls I (in one direction) liked. It was all very innocent, but I was still a bit of a creep. Mine isn't a love story of little boys and girls holding hands.
The only way to see the girl I liked was to run across the girls' playground. We were allowed to only because the toilets were on the other side. My ruse was pretty thin. The girls would often sit in circles talking, while the boys playground was relative chaos. I don't know how much this had to do with the choice of uniform.
When I got to Senior Primary, there was one occasion where we had to choose between Woodwork and Knitting. All the boys, bar Trev, chose woodwork. I was accused of being gay (in a very homophobic culture), which to this day I don't understand. Any rational person would know that by choosing knitting I would be getting to spend more time with the girls.
A similar situation happened with the choir. I now have a deep voice. Before it broke, I could sing higher, and was smaller, than most of the girls. Gender Apartheid would stretch to who sat where when we sang. I would again be with the girls. Although, it didn't improve my ability to speak to "them".
Circles or Football. Woodwork or Knitting. High Voice or Low Voice. Developing the skills to see each other as friends was actually quite a challenge. There was one stage when a girl's mother was a teacher. We (two boys and two girls) got to spend breaks in the library at the back of her classroom reading Afrikaans books. That isn't code, because we were incredibly well behaved, and any love felt was unrequited. Not that that stopped me trying. Oozey love letters to someone who didn't want to receive them seemed like a good idea. My crushes got a loyalty that was more curse than cute. The one girl gave the other a note she had written once, "helpful hints and tips to get rid of Trevor". From the age of 13, we went to separated High Schools. I am sure there were a few girls who breathed a sigh of relief.
I joined the Durban Youth Council when I was 16, and that was one of the first regular places where the mixing felt genuinely put aside to work on projects together. Where the girls were not only there on social occasions. Perhaps the difference was I was 16, and a little less creepy, but I still wonder about the underlying lessons we were being taught by the way things were set up.
Often I feel like unwinding some of the discussions about masculinity, femininity, gender roles, consent, expectations, obstacles needs to go quite deep. It feels almost like two parallel cultures we have built up, even though we have lived in the same spaces.
I am embarrassed about many of my trial and error lessons into figuring out the dance we play to find the person we build a life with. I am not alone. That confusion has seeped into building whole societies around gender separation. About seeing the entire other gender as a beauty/strength parade for a romanticised idea of that one relationship. Ideas built around property, protection, purity, survival, competition, success, and community. Gradually we have broken down walls, but there is some difficult building required in the rubble.
Once the difference between being a boy and a girl started to become obvious, I was pretty useless. I can still remember the line of the girls I (in one direction) liked. It was all very innocent, but I was still a bit of a creep. Mine isn't a love story of little boys and girls holding hands.
The only way to see the girl I liked was to run across the girls' playground. We were allowed to only because the toilets were on the other side. My ruse was pretty thin. The girls would often sit in circles talking, while the boys playground was relative chaos. I don't know how much this had to do with the choice of uniform.
When I got to Senior Primary, there was one occasion where we had to choose between Woodwork and Knitting. All the boys, bar Trev, chose woodwork. I was accused of being gay (in a very homophobic culture), which to this day I don't understand. Any rational person would know that by choosing knitting I would be getting to spend more time with the girls.
A similar situation happened with the choir. I now have a deep voice. Before it broke, I could sing higher, and was smaller, than most of the girls. Gender Apartheid would stretch to who sat where when we sang. I would again be with the girls. Although, it didn't improve my ability to speak to "them".
Circles or Football. Woodwork or Knitting. High Voice or Low Voice. Developing the skills to see each other as friends was actually quite a challenge. There was one stage when a girl's mother was a teacher. We (two boys and two girls) got to spend breaks in the library at the back of her classroom reading Afrikaans books. That isn't code, because we were incredibly well behaved, and any love felt was unrequited. Not that that stopped me trying. Oozey love letters to someone who didn't want to receive them seemed like a good idea. My crushes got a loyalty that was more curse than cute. The one girl gave the other a note she had written once, "helpful hints and tips to get rid of Trevor". From the age of 13, we went to separated High Schools. I am sure there were a few girls who breathed a sigh of relief.
I joined the Durban Youth Council when I was 16, and that was one of the first regular places where the mixing felt genuinely put aside to work on projects together. Where the girls were not only there on social occasions. Perhaps the difference was I was 16, and a little less creepy, but I still wonder about the underlying lessons we were being taught by the way things were set up.
Often I feel like unwinding some of the discussions about masculinity, femininity, gender roles, consent, expectations, obstacles needs to go quite deep. It feels almost like two parallel cultures we have built up, even though we have lived in the same spaces.
I am embarrassed about many of my trial and error lessons into figuring out the dance we play to find the person we build a life with. I am not alone. That confusion has seeped into building whole societies around gender separation. About seeing the entire other gender as a beauty/strength parade for a romanticised idea of that one relationship. Ideas built around property, protection, purity, survival, competition, success, and community. Gradually we have broken down walls, but there is some difficult building required in the rubble.
Toothy Grin, and Off to Boys' High School
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