Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 99

“We’ve been dating for a few weeks, but we almost broke up an...

“We’ve been dating for a few weeks, but we almost broke up an hour ago.  He showed his whole ass this weekend.  I was visiting my grandmother on Saturday, and my little cousin was having a bake sale, so I spent the whole time baking.  I was focused.  And I’m not good at multitasking.  So I didn’t see his texts for a few hours.  When I finally found my phone, I had all these texts from him.  He’d gotten himself all worked up.  He thought I’d been ignoring him on purpose.  So we talked on the phone about it that night.  I told him: ‘Sometimes I’m busy.’  And he acted like he understood.  But then yesterday he wasn’t answering my texts.  I could see that he was online.  He’d clearly turned off his little blue ticks.  I sent him ten different texts, but no reply.  He was clearly ignoring me.  Then finally at 9 PM he gives me a call, and says: ‘Sorry.  Sometimes I’m busy.’”
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

“I’m studying human rights. It’s a long way off, but one day...

“I’m studying human rights.  It’s a long way off, but one day I’d like to be a lawyer and protect vulnerable populations in Africa.  My mother is African but I grew up in France.  In high school I went on a humanitarian mission to provide health and education for a village in Senegal.  There was no water.  There was no electricity.  We visited a small orphanage where the children had to beg for their food every day.  They had no choice, because if they came back with nothing, they didn’t eat.  I cried myself to sleep that night.  And when I returned to France, I felt guilty for everything: for living where I live, for having a family, for growing up in a rich country with education and healthcare.  I didn’t tell many people about my experience.  I didn’t want it to seem like a trophy.  And I was aware of the irony because France colonized Senegal.  But that trip opened my eyes to the opportunities I’d been taking for granted.  It made me appreciate the choices that I have in life.  And since those choices are a privilege, I want to use them to help other people.”
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

“I started bodybuilding after my chemotherapy. At first it...

“I started bodybuilding after my chemotherapy.  At first it was just a way to get healthy again.  But I discovered I was good at it.  I started winning competitions.  And I got hooked.  My boyfriend didn’t like it.  He thought it made me less desirable.  But the worse our relationship got, the more I focused on working out.  It just felt so great to be recognized for something.  I was really, really good at it.  And the bodybuilding community is so great.  They’re some of the least judgmental people because they’re used to being judged all the time.  For the first few years I was really self-conscious about my body.  But I’ve gotten to the point where the small comments don’t really bother me anymore: ‘ew,’ gross,’ ‘disgusting’, things like that.  I can usually block people out if they can’t type more than a sentence.   But occasionally the criticism sinks in.  It still hurts when people question my gender.  Or my sexuality.  And I’ve had some awkward Tinder dates.  The last guy said: ‘Holy fuck, you’re bigger than I thought you’d be.’  But despite all this, I’ve gotten comfortable in my own skin.  I actually feel more feminine now than I did growing up.  I was always skinny.  I never had breasts.  I didn’t ever feel like a natural woman.  But what is natural?  Is make-up natural?  Or botox?  Or fillers?  Or breast implants?  All of us are flawed.  My mask might be different than other people, but we all hide behind something.  I just hide behind my muscles.”
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

My dream is to create an incubator of sorts. It can be...

My dream is to create an incubator of sorts.  It can be difficult for start-ups to get funding in South Africa, so I’m trying to build a platform that connects investors and entrepreneurs.  I’ve been working on it full time for about a year now.  But the idea hasn’t taken off as quickly as I’d hoped.   Don’t get me wrong, I’m still on the grind.  I’m still having meetings and trying to put together deals.  I’m telling myself that no matter what, I’m going to figure this out.  But if I’m being absolutely honest with you, it’s not looking promising.  I’ve got about two or three months of runway left.  The bank has been calling me every day because of the credit card.  And my car just broke down, which will probably eat up twenty percent of my remaining reserves.  My options are running out.  It’s a lot of pressure, but I’m trying to focus on the bright side.  I made it a whole year.   We built the initial platform and had a few users.  And I’ve moved forward as a person.  I’ve gained a lot of new insights.  I’ve grown my network.  Experienced people have told me that I’m working on an important problem.  And that validation means more than money.  So even if this particular business fails, I’ll try again.  But next time I’ll come back at a better angle.”
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

“The crime around here is out of control. It’s not even safe...

“The crime around here is out of control.  It’s not even safe to walk down the street.  People are snatching bags and phones in broad daylight.  And it’s even more dangerous when the sun goes down.  It’s bad for business.  Our customers are being scared away.  The police aren’t doing anything, so we’re forced to take matters into our own hands.  Recently one of my customers had his car broken into.  While I was repairing his shoe, we heard glass shatter.  And we saw three guys running away with his laptop computer.  I chased one of them down, caught him by the shirt, and began to beat him.  I made him call his brothers and tell them he was about to be killed.  Sure enough, they brought back the laptop.  So I let him go.  But the police came to my store the next day, and told me that I shouldn’t have taken matters into my own hands.  They said next time I’d go to jail.  But what am I supposed to do?  Let my customers be robbed?  Soon we won’t have any customers left.   If police aren’t willing to stop the crime, we must do it ourselves.”  
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

(2/2) “Mom tried her best to pay for flight school, but we...

(2/2) “Mom tried her best to pay for flight school, but we kept running out of money.  I’d have to drop out for a few weeks, and since flying involves so much muscle memory, it would take me a while to get back on track.  So one day I bought a stack of magazines and newspapers.  I went through every page and cut out the advertisements.  Then I opened my pantry and wrote down every brand I could find.  I sent all of them letters, asking for help.  Almost everyone said ‘no.’  But I did receive an amount from a grocery store called Pick-n-Pay.  And Breitling sent me a brand new watch to raffle.  That was a huge break.  I sold six hundred raffle tickets.  Things were going so well.  African Pilot Magazine promoted the raffle for free.  A man from Australia bought 100 tickets.  But then I got a letter from the Lottery Board ordering me to end my raffle.  They said it was illegal.  I tried to explain that I was raising money for my education, but they didn’t care.  I was so disappointed.  I’d have to sit out another year of flight school.  But when I called everyone to explain the situation, nobody would accept their money back.  They told me to keep it!  It was enough to keep me in the air for months.  Then around Christmas that year, one of my mentors invited me to eat lunch at the airport.  When I stepped out of the car, everyone who had ever helped me was there.  They all started clapping.  And somebody handed me the phone.  A person on the other end said: ‘You’re live on 94.7, and we’re going to pay for your entire education!’  That was nearly four years ago.  I just got my license last week.  My plan is to fly for South African Airlines, but first I want to do some teaching.  I want to visit schools in black neighborhoods.  I want all the kids to see what an African female pilot looks like.”
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

(½) “In tenth grade we were given an assignment to...

(½) “In tenth grade we were given an assignment to shadow a professional in the workplace.  I wanted to be a doctor at the time, so I emailed some hospitals but never got a response.  Luckily one of my aunts worked in the back office of South African Airlines, so she invited me to come with her to the airport.  I’d never flown on an airplane before.  I remember looking out the window at all those big ass planes coming in to land.  My aunt could see that I wasn’t interested in the paperwork, so she took me to the crew room.  I noticed all the pilots had incredible posture.  All their hats were lined up on a shelf.  Their jackets were all hanging in a row.  And that’s when the bug bit me.  I started spending all my holidays there.  The pilots were very nice to me.  I don’t think they’d ever seen an African female who was so enthusiastic about becoming a pilot.  They gave me advice and let me share their simulator time.  When I turned eighteen, I visited a flight school and picked up an application.  But the costs were too much.  My mom said we didn’t have the money, and told me to apply to normal universities.  She’d bring me applications, but I kept hiding them under my bed and telling her I got rejected.  I found an internship with a glider company, and used my stipend to buy my first pilot’s uniform.  I put one stripe on the sleeve—for students.  When I came home that night, I think she took me seriously for the first time.  She could see her daughter really wanted to fly.”              
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

“I hung out in the streets a lot as a child. But when I was...

“I hung out in the streets a lot as a child.  But when I was seventeen, my parents died in a minibus crash.  It forced me to wake up and work for myself.  I got my first job as a cleaner.  The boss ordered me around for months.  But when it was time to pay me, he refused.  It left me in a desperate situation.  I was hungry.  I needed shelter.  So I got frustrated.  Some of my friends were stealing cars at the time.  They had a special key that could open doors.  At first I didn’t want to get involved, but they were living the life I wanted.  They had nice cars.  They could afford to buy drinks.  So when they asked me to come along one night, I agreed.  I told myself: ‘If I just go along once, I’ll be alright.’  We stole three cars that night.  Everyone got away but me.  When I saw the police lights in my rearview mirror, I started crying immediately.  I knew my life was over.  I spent a few years in prison.  That’s where I met a social worker named Ms. Palesa.  She was near retirement.  And when she heard my story, she invited me to come work at her house when I got released.  I painted for her.  I cleaned.  I worked in the garden.  Not only did she pay me, but she treated me like her child.  She bought me clothes.  She encouraged me to learn a trade.  Ms. Palesa only lived for a few more years, but she set me on the right path.  Every friend that I stole cars with that night is either dead or in jail.  But I work every day, and I never committed another crime.  ”  
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

“I carried the burden of doing well from very young in life....

“I carried the burden of doing well from very young in life.  My father died early, so things were never very stable growing up.  I lived in about ten different places.  So from an early age, I decided that I was going to change the narrative.  I’d use my gifts and talents to create stability for my family.  I did well in academics.  I took leadership positions in school.  And when I was thirteen years old, I set a goal of becoming the President of South Africa.  I always felt destined to achieve something great.  But most of all, I wanted to be an amazing mother.  For the longest time everything was going to plan.  But last year I got pregnant.  We were both just beginning our careers.  We’d only been dating for a few months.  So we decided that we’d try again when the time was right, and I ended the pregnancy.  That’s when things began to fall apart.  The relationship came to an end.  I went through a long stretch of unemployment.  After a lifetime of accomplishing my goals, everything stopped working.  And I just hadn’t prepared myself for the emotional trauma of the abortion.  I convinced myself that I’d made the wrong decision.  I’d spent my whole life planning to be this amazing mother, but when it finally happened, I couldn’t show up for it.  I fell into a dark place.  And I’ve been struggling with it ever since.  But there’s a verse in Jeremiah that God knows us in the womb.  And whether you live for a day, or a month, or if you’re never born at all—every life has a purpose.  So maybe there was a purpose for that life.  It interrupted me.  It interrupted all the achievements and goals and forced me to examine my truth.  I’ve accepted that mistakes happen.  Curveballs happen.  And that’s where deep learning occurs.  On the child’s due date, my best friend took me on a spa day, and she told me something that helped.  She said: ‘Every mother has an instinct.  And you were just doing what was best for your child.  Maybe the pregnancy wasn’t ended.  It was just delayed until you’re ready.’”
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

“I’m trying to give Mom a chance to do other things. She...

“I’m trying to give Mom a chance to do other things.  She wants to wash her hair and cook dinner, but the baby started crying.  So I brought him outside to see if it would help.  We’ve gone about thirty minutes without screaming.  We’re from Mozambique.  I originally came here to find work as a ceiling installer, but I brought my wife along when we found out she was pregnant.  The healthcare is much better in this country.  It’s too early for them to go back home because the child was born premature, but I’ll feel safer when they’re gone.  It’s too dangerous for them here.  South Africa is a good place to work, but they don’t like us being here so much.  The abuse mainly comes from other black people. They call us names.  They tell us to go home.  They attack us because they think we’re stealing their jobs.  But I’m just doing what I know.  They don’t understand what it’s like in my country.  You can’t survive with kids.  I’m just making the only choice I have.”
(Johannesburg, South Africa)