First publication in a national magazine

I dated Musa Strachan for just over a year when I was 15. He was my first 'real' boyfriend, if u can call it that. In other words, he wasn't a boy who automatically became my boyfriend because I caught him in kissing catchers. I loved him, but it wasn't a big love I don't think. They say you get love, big love and great love in life. I absolutely adored him. I think moose was just a love though, partly because he was the first person I was serious about, and I was only a kid after all - and probably didn't quite know what love was fully.

But point is - it has been about 3 years since we have dated, and now we are very close friends, completely happy for each other in every way.


Although what this entry is really about, is after we broke up, round about the same time I became interested in writing and journalism, I wrote what started off as a creative writing piece, an article about interracial relationships. It went on to be published in The Seventeen magazine, one of my favourite magazines at the time, so you can imagine how excited I was;

Zebra Crossing
By Robynne Peatfield

When I was a little girl, I held my mother’s hand, as we looked left-right-left again, and crossed over the black and white lines painted onto the hot tar. It was a safety icon. I felt safe with that crossing. But ‘safe’ is a word that soon became a great contrast to the dangerous environment I stepped into later on.

When I was a little girl I was incredibly curious about everyone and everything. I was deeply disturbed when I learnt that our former president had been locked up in jail for 27 years. I was a very friendly child- sometimes a little too friendly considering I went up to complete strangers at the age of 5 and tried my best to make friends with them.
Race was never an issue to me.
And I guess I thank my parents for that.

When I was a little girl I saw zebra crossings simply as a way not to get hurt. I think differently now. I was recently in a relationship with a very special person. His name was Musa, and when they say that people are loved for their differences and imperfections- it’s true. We did not have a lot in common at all, starting with the small fact that he’s black… Black? He’s black! It didn’t matter. The first thing I was told was that the longer it would last, the harder it would get. I didn’t care. I dived right in, right into the deep end.

It was a fragile situation; as my heart went out so willingly- about ten hearts around me would drop in disgust.

Condescending and degrading comments hit hard against my push for independence and bravery. It’s as if people saw it as a seek for broken hearts, bents backs and bowed heads.
When we so much as held hands in a crowd of strangers- the calm face of an old lady would start to storm. Did we feel guilty? This was far from a fairytale- it was reality on a silver platter.

When I was a little girl, I lived in a world of laughter, shock and ‘aw’. I still do. Life is my gift. No one should mope.
When I was a little girl I witnessed love being thrown away and being faked. Musa and I looked on the bright side of love- all the time. Luckily for me, my friends and family supported my decision and because of that, no matter what, there were smiles.

Although it was the people who refused to understand that tried to hurt. It was hard for them to understand that if I closed my eyes with him in front of me; it would still be black, and his beautiful personality would still be right there.

Love is an incredibly hard thing to explain or describe, (we all know that) but what I do know is that the world is filled with it. It overflows- but One Love is what the world lacks. One Love means love between everyone, anyone, anything- it is a power nothing can beat. Imagine for one second what the world would be like- if everyone believed in One Love.
When I was a little girl, the zebra fascinated me. Please- would someone tell me, are they white with black stripes, or black with white stripes?? I now realize that it clearly doesn’t matter. Does it?

No. No it doesn’t at all. Every time I looked away from Musa my eyes were drawn back quickly to the darker stripes of the zebra. No matter what, my heart went out- I got over harsh comments quickly and I ended up laughing at the funny looks I got.

Respect, dignity and faith. It’s not fair that after all this time some are still fighting for it. Race depicts a person’s colour, not their character. And I am proud of everything. I don’t regret my decisions. Why should others have to regret them for me?

I have learnt so much from this experience. I have learnt that people can’t accept what they can’t explain. But that people are still, to this day true to their beliefs, and never forget where they come from. I admire that.

Zebra strolls through high grass, under African trees. He too, knows his beliefs. He has respect, he has dignity. And he has faith.

Use your zebra crossing wisely. Handle bitter traffic with a pinch of salt. Don’t step on it too hard. Get to the other side safely- and only if you want them to, someone (anyone) will be right there waiting.