Live in Denial and Die in Silence

Earlier today I had an intense and very emotional conversation with my sister. There are crucial family discussions that we should’ve had long ago or should be having on a regular basis for healing and closure, but we keep holding back. Quite frankly, there are too many black people who are emotionally and mentally scarred from generations of varied atrocities, yet we soldier on with gaping wounds (partly our fault and partly society) and we wonder why the black "man" or a lot of black families are in such dysfunction. But our conversation was a more personal one.

I mentioned in the blog post before this one that our late mom died from HIV/AIDS related sickness. This information shocked my sister, Mbali, who was barely 9 when mom passed away. Here I was thinking we all just knew this but chose not to talk about it. Of course, mom had never sat us down and admitted it, but all the signs were there. I naturally assumed the whole family put two and two together…but was too scared or ashamed to ever talk openly about it.

I’ve had people outside of my family who alluded to such; even a death bed conversation with my late father who died from the same. (He later turned out to not be my real dad but that’s besides the point). Story for another day I tell you.

Mbali decided to rope in our late mom’s sister to the conversation and to my relief and horror, she shared my suspicions and sentiments, but she had never spoken to our mom about it. I’m guessing back then HIV and AIDS was a taboo topic and people feared the stigma and chose to suffer silently.

Mom (we call our mom’s sister, mom or mam’ncane – it’s a black thing) mentioned the regret she has for not being able to walk that journey with her sister and help her in any way. There’s been other family members whose lives have been stolen by the same silence and shame about HIV/AIDS. Our ignorance and fear have robbed us of too many lives.

It brought so much emotional relief to finally speak openly about this elephant in the room. These thoughts had burdened me for years. I always carried around mom’s pain for some reason. I lamented for her, grieving for a life lived and lost so tragically. She was about to turn 33 when she died, after a heartbreaking series of hospitalizations. Memories of her frail body and gradual deterioration still haunt me to this day.

She suffered from a few AIDS related diseases, TB, pneumonia, shingles etc. Most people don’t die from HIV or AIDS itself, but from the opportunistic infections that run rampant because of their weakened immune system. Also, in my mom’s time ARVs were not freely available from what I understand. Free ARVs in the public sector only got introduced in April 2004, the year after my mom passed away. I don’t know how people without money got HIV treatment back in those days.

Having this conversation today opened the communication channels for other sensitive matters to be openly discussed. Another thing that Mbali brought up that hinders our coming out and speaking about past hurts and abuse is the idea of burdening others with your pain.

For example, the thinking or being told that exposing a certain secret will kill your grandmother or ruin family relationships. We should never be denied the opportunity for healing, closure and empathy, at any cost! We have the right and responsibility to confront the demons that tear at the fabric of our families and society, tactfully of course, but full disclosures are a necessity to our survival.

How many people have gone to the grave (through suicide or other) with gigantic, deep, toxic and festered wounds from secrets that silenced them to death? There’s so much that has destroyed us as a people, and we’ll keep perpetuating that cycle unless we become brave and vulnerable enough to expose the pain that threatens to consume us.

This is just the beginning of open and honest dialogues for me and my family and we hope to bring healing and closure for all involved when we finally have those face to face engagements.

I’m certain it won’t be easy. I’m certain that others won’t be able to handle some truths and division might happen. But what is the alternative? We all live in denial and die in silence?

There’s no price too high for the redemption of our souls.

In loving memory of our late mother, Nomathamsanqa Theodorah Xolo (1969 - 2003)