Chapter 4 Page 54: "As a kid, I understood that people were different colors, but in my head, white and black, and brown were like types of chocolate. Dad was the white chocolate, Mom was the dark chocolate, and it was the milk chocolate. But we were all just chocolate. I didn't know any of it had any of it had to do with race. I didn't know what race was. My mother never referred to my dad as white or to me as mixed. So when the kids in Soweto called me white, even though I was light brown, I just thought they had their colors mixed up, like they hadn't learnt them properly, "Ah yes, my friend. You've confused aqua with turquoise. I can see how you made that mistake. You're not the first."
At its core, this passage reflects how Trevor’s early understanding of identity was shaped more by love and family than by societal labels. By comparing skin tones to different kinds of chocolate, “white chocolate,” “dark chocolate,” and “milk chocolate,” he uses a childlike metaphor that emphasizes unity over division. In his eyes, everyone was simply "chocolate," a delicious, familiar, and neutral comparison that shows how race was irrelevant to his personal identity at the time. The humor in the paragraph, especially his imaginary correction of the Soweto kids who called him white, demonstrates Noah’s signature comedic voice, which he often uses to explore serious topics like racism and identity in a more approachable way. His response, “Ah yes, my friend. You've confused aqua with turquoise…” illustrates how absurd and arbitrary racial distinctions seemed to him as a child. It’s not that he denied being different in appearance it’s that he hadn’t yet been taught to associate those differences with hierarchy or exclusion. This moment also subtly critiques the way society teaches racial categories, suggesting that these concepts are learned rather than innate. Trevor’s mother, who never labeled his father as white or him as mixed, deliberately avoided instilling racial bias or division, reinforcing the idea that children learn racism from the world around them, not from within.
Chapter 5 Page 69: "Eden Park was a colored neighborhood adjacent to several black townships on the East Rand. Half colored and half black, she figured, like us. We'd be camouflaged there. It didn't work out that way; we never fit after all. But that was her thinking when we made the move. Plus, it was the chance to buy a home, our own home. Eden Park was one of those "suburbs" that are actually out on the edge of civilization, the kind of place where property developers have said, "Hey, poor people. You can live the good life, too. Here's a house. In the middle of nowhere. But look, you have a yard!' For some reason, the streets in Eden Park were named after the Jaguar Street. Ferrari Stret. Honda Street. I don't know if it was a coincidence or not, but it's funny because colored people in South Africa are known for loving fancy cars. It was like living in a white neighborhood with all the streets named after varietals of fine wine."
This paragraph from Born a Crime offers insight into Trevor Noah’s experiences with place, identity, and socioeconomic illusions in South Africa. Through his character, Noah unpacks the deeper ironies of social mobility and racial identity in a country still deeply shaped by segregation. At first, Eden Park seems like a logical choice for Trevor’s mother, a neighborhood that’s “half colored and half black,” potentially offering a place where their mixed family could "camouflage." This word choice reflects her hope for belonging and safety through blending in. But the reality, as Trevor notes, was different; they “never fit after all.” This reveals how even within marginalized communities, there are still divisions and hierarchies tied to race and identity. Noah also critiques the illusion of opportunity sold to poor people in South Africa. He highlights the superficial appeal of "owning a home" in Eden Park, a suburb that promised a better life but was located "in the middle of nowhere." His sarcastic comment, "But look, you have a yard! reveals how the promise of upward mobility often masks the lack of real infrastructure or inclusion. In essence, this passage critiques the systems that sell hope while maintaining inequality, and it captures how race, class, and aspiration intersect in everyday life. Noah’s humor doesn’t undercut the seriousness of his message it sharpens it, making the critique both accessible and poignant.
The animal that most frightens me is a frog. I can't stand the sight of it near me. If I were to have a close-up experience with it, I would most likely have a panic attack. Ever since I was young, I've had bad experiences with frogs and have developed this fear stemming from the fact that my mother also had this fear of frogs as well which made me fear them.
In Chapter Four of Born a Crime, Trevor Noah emphasizes the power of language in shaping identity and social perception. He states, "language, even more than color, defines who you are to people" (p. 56). This insight stems from his experiences in apartheid-era South Africa, where racial divisions were stark. Trevor found that speaking the local language allowed him to connect with different communities, often overriding racial prejudices. For instance, when he spoke Zulu to a group of men who initially saw him as an outsider, their perception changed, and they accepted him as one of their own. This adaptability led Trevor to describe himself as a "chameleon," someone who could navigate various social landscapes by blending in linguistically and culturally, despite his mixed-race background.
In Chapter Five, Trevor discusses the concept of the "black tax," which his mother describes as the burden placed on Black individuals to support their families financially, often hindering their own progress. He explains, "Because the generations who came before you have been pillaged, rather than being free to use your skills and education to move forward, you lose everything just trying to bring everyone behind you back up to zero" (p. 66).
Despite these challenges, Trevor's mother instilled in him a sense of resilience and optimism. She advised him not to let past traumas define his future, emphasizing the importance of moving forward and embracing new experiences. Trevor reflects on this mindset, stating, "I remember the thing that caused the trauma, but I don't hold on to the trauma. I never let the memory of something painful prevent me from trying something new" (p. 90).
Furthermore, Trevor notes that while they lived modestly, they were "rich in experience." His mother exposed him to various environments beyond their immediate circumstances, such as visiting affluent neighborhoods, to broaden his perspective and aspirations. This approach allowed Trevor to envision possibilities beyond the limitations imposed by their socioeconomic status.