Excuse me while I keep talking, says Lerato Tshabalala

The book's been out for less than a month. What are people most offended by?

This is about bluntness. Being black, blunt, and a woman who swears when my culture suggests I should be polite and nice. I didn't purposely aim to rile people. I am a journalist who comes from a newsroom, this is my language.

My critics have asked, "Why are you an authority on anything?" It isn't about that. It is my observations, what I see around me. No matter how you dress the truth, in ribbons and perfume, it is still the truth and it can be ugly.

What was the purpose of your book?

I wanted to start a conversation. Outside of the creative environment, where there is a sense of oneness, we South Africans are not where we should be.

Anyone who thinks South African society is integrated is delusional. "Black people are appalled that [white people] wash your pets in the kitchen sink ... Yes, we know y'all think we don't wash our hair, that we say Dennis instead of Denise and laugh too loudly in restaurants.

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We are aware of your stares, but some of us actually revel in your discomfort because, really, if you've lived in Africa all your life and still expect black people to speak in hushed tones, then you deserve to have your nice, calm evening disturbed by our blackness."

My job as a journalist is to be as reflective of the truth as possible. And I realise we need to have a sense of humour to get through it.

It reads as a memoir in some parts. Is it?

I basically tell you everything, my life's fuck-ups, when I haven't had money and hired dodgy service providers who left my pool brown and disappeared because I was trying to be cheap. Every bad decision I've made is in here.

Did you find it difficult to make light of these serious issues?

I wrote the book at a time when I had lost people in my life, including my dad. I was grieving but I had to find humour in every situation. That is who has written this book. Someone who is really interested in South Africa.

Part of my being critical of people here, is me being invested in this country. If we do not diagnose what is happening in our country, how can we grow? When we start to change our way of being and the language that we use, if we can just be aware of what we do and say, we can move on. Also man, I want you to laugh, that this is how we are and what we do is sometimes crazy.

What does your mom say about some of the racy bits?

I was nervous when she told me she was reading about the sex. She texted me to say, "I've also lived on this green earth, my love, but thank God your dad isn't alive to read about your genitals being landscaped."

The following are edited extracts from the book:

On social media: Back in the day you'd call your friend and tell her that you were having period pains - these days you post a pic with a caption that reads: "There's a war inside my uterus. FML." Do we really need to know that your womb is experiencing turbulence? Tell your girlfriends, not the world.

block_quotes_start A situation. It's like an e-mail stuck in the outbox - there's very little you can do about it. When you're in a situation, nothing is defined. block_quotes_end

On domestic workers: According to the dictionary, a maid is defined as a female domestic servant. Depending on where you are in the world, maids can look different. In America generally this will be a lady from Mexico; in France, this person could be from Eastern Europe; and in Africa, from, say, Diepsloot or Grassy Park.

Nowhere in the dictionary does the word "maid" refer to a race of people.

But the truth is, "maid" is a word that describes what someone does - it's not derogatory in and of itself ... The extent of our middle-class guilt as black people is so deep that many of us would rather spend hours sitting idly at Exclusive Books than be in the house when the cleaning lady is there.

Only the truly emancipated among us will simply lift our feet and let her clean around us while we lounge about watching daytime television. If you're like me, however, then you try to prove that you were raised well by tidying up just before she comes.

On racists: We need to look at racist people the same way in which we regard stupid people. If you've ever encountered a truly stupid person, in the true sense of ignorance, you never take anything they say seriously; you're always half listening and can be facetious without them even getting it.

Racists are stupid. That is a fact. Rejecting labels and derogatory terms is taking back our power.

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On friends with benefits: Rainy days are especially cruel reminders of those deadliest of combinations: horniness and loneliness. I don't mean three hours of rain - I'm talking about weeks in which you have four days of constant rain. You need what in the 'hood is called ingubo enamehlo, "a blanket with eyes"... someone with whom you can create body heat.

On gay people: Something I love about gay men is that they don't compromise. If you're hanging with them, you've got to be hot to trot. No half measures.

As women we'll let our girlfriends go out in outfits that don't fit or look crap simply because we don't want to hurt their feelings, but a gay guy will tell you straight: "Lerato, where do you think you're going? You're certainly not getting into my car dressed like that!"

On dating: A situationship lies in the grey area between dating and being in a relationship. You haven't called it anything, so you exist in that no-man's-land of non-relationships.

A situation. It's like an e-mail stuck in the outbox - there's very little you can do about it. When you're in a situation, nothing is defined.

But you are still seen in public together and may occasionally even hang out with his friends, and you're usually introduced as just "Lerato" - nothing more, nothing less.

For men, it's about the convenience of having a girlfriend who knows she's not really a girlfriend. As women, though, we feel like we're on standby for a flight - the wait is killing us, we want to throw a tantrum, but we also don't want to piss off the people whose mercy we require.

On the bill: That moment when the bill comes and a woman reaches for her bag. Most of us ladies do this to prove that we didn't come with expectations, that we're independent 21st-century women who can hold our own.

Except, of course, that is not true, is it? When I'm reaching for my bag, I'm hoping that you'll immediately say, "Don't worry, I've got this," [or] that you'll swiftly take the bill so I don't see how much the meal has cost and then politely tell me to put my bag away.

You can follow Shanthini on twitter @ShantzN

'The Way I See It: The Musings of a Black Woman in the Rainbow Nation' by Lerato Tshabalala. Published by Penguin Random House (R210)