I was about four, standing beside someone who held my hand as we watched a protest by the Black Sash. Six women stood in a semi-circle in front of the city hall. My mother was one of them, gloved hands clasped, head bowed, shoes neatly together. Before each woman was a poster, black on white. The words are forgotten, but not the impression they had on the crowd. Restless. Angry. Hostile. I was afraid, felt the threat of the people surrounding us. Men with cameras recorded the silent protest. Special Branch. How could I have known so early that they were a danger?
Image Credits to: UCT Libraries, Special Collections, BC668:K1.3