I’m getting settled back in after attending my first Edinburgh Fringe festival last week, the world’s largest performance arts festival.
But before I get into that, I wanted to talk about something that’s more important than most things…
Family.
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BROTHERS
We have a family day out planned on Friday for my brother’s 30th birthday. My little brother. Thirty.
I don’t know where the time goes.
I remember when he looked like this.
I remember when I was told that there was “something growing in mummy’s tummy”.
I remember praying every time I went to “matha tekh” (bowing one’s head down to the Sikh holy book) at the Gurdwara (Sikh temple), or in front of the same holy book my grandparents had on the top floor, their little holy shrine in the house.
I would pray every day without fail, something like: “Baba Ji (God), please give me a baby brother. I love you. So please will you.” Over and over again.
I’ve no idea why I wanted a baby brother so badly. I think partly because I wanted a companion.
But I remember being fascinated by my little brother.
I would play with him on his activity mat, making babbling sounds.
I remember witnessing his first steps as he raced across the room. Dad would have his arms outstretched, sat against the flowery sofa in our small living room, and place my brother on the carpet out in front of him… he’d be happily giggling away, but clinging to Dad’s arms and not wanting to let go.
And then one day… his little legs carried him across to Dad. He’d taken his very first steps. Special memories.
I remember the rides in the back of the car together after school. Mum asking how our day went.
Being away on holiday whilst he anxiously waited on his exam grades.
Him moving out to go to University. Moving back. And then moving out again.
30 years go by quick and — to be honest — as we’ve gotten older, my little brother has felt more like just a brother. Though he will, of course, always be my little brother.
And next year he’s getting married to an amazing person who feels like a sister to me.
I can’t wait to celebrate with you bro <3
~
SISTERS
When I was younger, every year we would celebrate something known as ‘Rakhi’. On the one hand, it was a nice occasion, families coming together, the girls placing these bands on boys. And the boys would give the girls money. I never really understood what was going on, but extended family coming together was nice.
Looking back, though, those memories are tainted by remnants of boys being treated as ‘better’ than girls. A deep-rooted, pervasive attitude that continues to exist in many cultures.
A boy is born? Hallelujah. Congratulations. There would be a song and a dance, literally and metaphorically.
And when a girl is born? Mothers would be told things like “Ah, I’m so sorry”, “What a shame.”
It’s heartbreaking.
And yet, as Mum shared with me last night, Rakhi is a symbolic thread-tying ceremony that represents the bond of love and protection between brothers and sisters. 🫶
Isn’t that beautiful?
Today, I wear 3 bracelets on my right arm:
My Kara, a steel or iron bangle worn by Sikhs that I’ve worn my whole life
A malachite bracelet, a gift from my auntie Ravinder
A bracelet with my name weaved in binary code, from Melissa
So, really, I am wearing bracelets from sisters.
And speaking of sisters, let’s go back to the Fringe Festival. I had the chance to meet someone IRL who I connected online with years ago through a platform called IndieHackers, Daizy Maan. We’ve stayed in touch since then, through twitter (when I used it) and LinkedIn.
I have a bunch of memories from my first Fringe last week — I’ve been sharing them on instagram — but amongst my favourite are watching Daizy and her Brown Women Comedy perform, and just hanging out.
After one of their shows, they did a vox pop to ask me what I thought of it.
Here’s what I said.
*in my excitement, I referred to this troupe as the wrong name — they are BROWN WOMEN COMEDY, they’re all the way from Australia, and they’re awesome.
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CHRIS ROCK
So where on earth does Chris Rock come into all of this?
Well, I think I’m in stand-up comedy mode after watching a bunch of shows at The Fringe. I was in the US early last year when his Selective Outrage show, which aired live on Netflix.
It was the show that everyone was waiting for. That Chris was waiting for, after having to deal with the ordeal of being slapped in the face a whole year prior at the Oscar’s, and the media aftermath that followed.
I’m getting chills just thinking about the moment I’m building up to here…
Selective Outrage touched on various themes in Chris Rock’s signature style (“Yeah, I said it!”) family, including opening up on why he asked his daughter to be kicked out of school:
“And when it was time for her to apply for college, she had to write why she got kicked out, and why it would never happen again. And now, three years later, my daughter, Lola, is one of the coolest people I have ever met. She is so amazing.
Lola Rock is amazing. My daughter, Lola, goes to culinary school in Paris. Yeah. Culinary school.... Culinary school in Paris. That’s right. My greatest achievement, man. I mean, let’s just think about it. Let’s just think about it for a second. My mother was born in 1945. My mother was born in 1945, in a little town called Georgetown, South Carolina, right? And my mother told me when she was a little girl, it was against the law for a Black person to go to a white dentist. Against the law for a Black person to go to a white dentist, right? And if you were a little child and you needed your teeth taken out, like all children do, if you’re a little Black child and you needed your teeth taken out, and you couldn’t find a Black dentist, you had to go to a vet. Yeah, motherf*cker. A vet in America. I’m talking about my mother. I’m not talking about Harriet Tubman. I’m talking about my mother. Shit, she’s sitting over there, okay?
My mother went to a vet, okay? Went to a vet. And think about it. The same woman that had to go through the indignity of getting her teeth taken out by a fucking vet, the same woman now, twice a year, gets on a plane, flies to Paris, and has coffee with her granddaughter, who is going to culinary school.”
And he closed out Selective Outrage, of course, by talking about that Will Smith moment at the Oscars. Rising from his seat after Chris Rock made a joke and striking him across the race.
On the very night that he won Best Actor for his portrayal of Richard Williams in King Richard — both an incredible story and portrayal by Will Smith, I might add.
“At your highest moment, be careful. That's when the devil comes for you.”
Denzel Washington to Will Smith after the Oscars incident
And he closes his show with these words:
“A lot of people are saying — hey Chris, how come you didn’t do nothin’ back? How come you didn’t do nothing back that night?”
‘Cause I got parents. ‘Cause I was raised, okay? I’ve got parents. And you know what my parents taught me?
Don’t fight in front of white people.”
MIC. DROP.
~
Where was the brotherhood?
Kanye, previously signed to Jay-Z’s record label, released a track titled “Big Brother” as a tribute to his close friend and mentor.
I’ve not listened to the Jay-Z & Kanye song that accompanies the closing credits for Selective Outrage the same way again.
He refers to white people, but this isn’t about race at all. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again..
We’re. stronger. together. All of us. Whatever we believe. Whoever we are.
Be well, brothers and sisters,
Jasraj x