Born a Crime

Born a Crime
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Storyboard Text

  • I was nine years old when my mother threw me out of a moving car
  • That carless Sunday we made our circuit of churches, ending up, as usual, at white church
  • White Church 
  • I know it was on a Sunday because we were coming home from church
  • Religion 
  • My mother was—and still is—a deeply religious woman. Very Christian.
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  • We were standing at the corner of Jellicoe Avenue and Oxford Road, right in the heart of Johannesburg’s wealthy, white suburbia, and there were no minibuses. The streets were empty.
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