Like many families, mine has split and recombined. My sister and I share both parents; two brothers and I share our father alone.
I remember one time I was in South Africa and I described my wonderful “half-brother.” And with a twinkle in his eyes, the person I was speaking with said, “what half is that?”
In America, I would have answered “Oh, from my dad’s side.” But in South Africa, I knew the man I was speaking with meant “There are no half-brothers. A brother is a brother.” And so since then I have dropped the terminology of “half.” There is no half in my relationship with my brother. We are whole.
So when I read your Tweet about how activists should not have pegged a #BlackLivesMatter campaign to the life of Michael Brown, I was angry. Then I cooled down. After all, you’re my brother.
By the time I grew up, calling people “brother” or(Read More...)