The Street Store - All the feelings.

I've done interviews. I've written social media posts. I've done talks. But I have never brought myself to write a blog about The Street Store - and the utter joy it brings me - because it's hard to put my feelings into words.

The Street Store is like my baby. I love it, no, I cherish it and everyone who is a part of it, with all my heart and soul. It's still surreal how these two scribbles on a page, became what they did.

It has been the most incredible 15 months, and every day seems to get better. It's not the awards - yes, of course they're lovely - but it's so much more.

It's a reminder in inherent kindness that exists out there. People who go out of their way to bring dignity to the homeless in their community. These people give me hope and inspire me to try and do more.

We've estimated that over 200,000 homeless have been clothed globally. 200,000. A number I can't even start to imagine. It would have been quite literally impossible if there weren't good people out there willing to make the world a better place. This is not a way of showing off our success, because it really isn't about success. It's a way to show that no matter how small an idea may seem, with the help of others, with collaboration, with sharing - it can have gigantic impact. So it's always worth a try.

It's also shown me what it feels like for a company to really and truly care about making a difference. M&C Saatchi Abel has taken on this initiative with such love, enthusiasm and passion. It's a privilege to work for a company that believes in its people, in small ideas becoming big ones, and seeing and supporting it all through to the end - whenever that end may (or may not) be. People ask me what it's like to work here, and truthfully, it's like working with my second family. Mike, Gordon, Jason, and everyone else - thank you.

It's shown me what people can pull off and make happen when they push through the tough times. What did Max, Faheem, Kim and I know about a) helping the homeless, b) running a charity, c) keeping a charity going, and 4) somehow surviving all of the above? The answer is zero. And now I know that no matter how tough or even impossible something may seem - it is possible. This thing has bonded us in a way that I will never be able to put into words. I just have this for you: love, respect, and all the trust in the world.

The Street Store has become a part of me. I live, breathe, think, and dream Street Store. I can't remember a time before it, and I hope to never have a time after it.

UCT Upstarts Speech

UCT Upstarts is an annual, year-long initiative launched in 2015, that uses multiple pop-up platforms to develop the next generation of upstarts - influential, young game-changers who will become job-creators, instead of job-seekers. At the end of the program, teams submit their social innovation projects, and the top applicants will go on to the "Idea Auction", where thought-leaders, companies and organisations can "bid" to support them.

I was asked to talk at one of the events... This is my story.

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I used to go here. I graduated from UCT, and Tiger Tiger, in 2009.

So, when an email popped up one day with the subject, “UCT Upstarts – Speaker Invite” I did a little dance at my desk. Then I read further… “UCT Upstarts is a joint-initiative between the Bertha Centre for Social Innovation and Entrepreneurship, and Super Stage”… I love me some innovation, so this was looking good.

I scrolled a bit more… to the over-arching theme of the talk:

Well, Bertha Centre for Social Innovation and Entrepreneurship, and Super Stage… Do I have a bone to pick with you.

Can anyone tell me what’s very, very wrong with this topic? Anyone?

The problem is that it’s trying to inspire change, innovation, creation and passion in young people – but just by virtue of those first four words – it’s limiting you and telling you that you that you can’t.

So, I’m changing the topic:

And centering it because it looks funny:

And underlining it because it’s important:

If I’d waited ‘til I was all grown up to try and change the world, then this would never have happened…

My name is Kayli Levitan, and on 14 January 2014, I, my colleague Max Pazak, and the advertising agency where we work, M&C Saatchi Abel - founded The Street Store. 

Ever since my entire perspective on the way I work and on human potential has shifted.

When you’re a kid, you think you can do anything. And slowly but surely your parents, teachers, and even lecturers convince you that you can’t and make even trying, seem like a bad idea. They may not mean to, but things like “be careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself”, “You can do that when you grow up”, “You’re not ready to learn that section”, and even “write an essay about so-and-so’s thoughts, not your own” – all leads to the belief that you aren’t ready for something – physically, emotionally, and mentally. And that if you were to just go for it, you’d come out 2^nd best.

I want to touch on three things that stop people from doing great things, but really shouldn’t.

When are you ever the right age to do something? When you’re a grown up? Well, when is that? Apparently I am a grown up, but I don’t feel like one. Just because you’re young, doesn’t mean that people won’t take you seriously. And if they don’t, they’re not worthy of your time. It’s not about age, it’s maturity. Being ready to take on a challenge and see it through. You may be that person at 12 years old, at 25, at 50, or never – but the only way you’ll find out is by trying. And if it doesn’t work – so what? At least you tried and hopefully learnt something from the experience. Which leads me to…

Really? I’m a copywriter and my co-founder is an art director. We work at ad agency. We come up with ideas. We make adverts. About beer and gyms, deodorant and insurance. What experience did we have in starting a charity that would help clothe the homeless in over 120 cities around the world? Zero. It was our inexperience that allowed us to innovate – because we had no idea what the norm was.

You don’t need experience to do something, you gain experience once you’ve started. You need to find an insight. We realised that bringing the haves and have-nots together in a dignified and meaningful way, would break through deep-set social stereotypes, and cause people to donate now and in the future. And that’s where it all began. Not through experience. Through research.

But research takes time, which leads on to...

If you have kids – maybe you are. But otherwise, busy is just an excuse. I’m busy. I work in advertising by day, and by night, I’m batman! Nope, bad joke. At night I run an online restaurant directory and blog. So, I know what busy is. But when you’re passionate enough about something, you’ll find the time to make it happen. You need to set aside time every day to go through the process of creation - thinking, brainstorming, working, making it happen. And it gets easier. Your brain, like any muscle, needs to be exercised to work at it’s best.

So stop making excuses. And stop letting people impose limitations on you. Be a kid again. A kid who really believes that they have the power to do what ever they want.  

The truth is, there is no such thing as being ready. But don’t think of that as a negative – all it does is set you free to go out there… and try.

Generation Next Speech

I was asked to make a 5 minute speech at an event called Generation Next. It was from the perspective of 6 very different Jewish youths, with very different backgrounds. We had to discuss how we fit into the Jewish world, what our religion means to us, and what we think the community needs to do in the future. I have added the "translations" of terms in brackets. This is my story.

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I started thinking about this speech one Friday evening while I was walking to my sister for Shabbat (the Sabbath). We chatted about it at the dinner table, but soon got distracted by other topics – things like the parsha (the Torah/bible story of the week), the fact that it’s almost Pesach (a Jewish festival) time; and that I have finally found the perfect place to build my first Sukkah (an element you create at a Jewish festival) this year. After dinner, I walked home again, significantly fuller, got into bed and went to sleep.

I woke up with a start in the morning as my alarm went off. But I was way to lazy to go for a run, so I hit snooze a few times. Finally I dragged myself out of bed, made a cup of coffee and called my mom. She couldn’t chat for long because she was off to shul (synagogue). So I got out my lap top, did some work, but lost track of time and whipped on a skirt and top and rushed off to my shul, Chabad (a very religious group of Jews), and prayed like a good Yiddishe Maidel (good Jewish girl).

All in all, I am what some may call a secular 26 year old girl, with an exceptionally frum (religious) 50 year old woman named Ester Faiga trapped inside her, trying to claw her way out.

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There is so much about Judaism that draws me in. But unless you want to sit here for an hour or 5 listening to me, I am just going to mention two.

Firstly, it’s the community. You’re never alone. There is always someone there for you. Be it just a person from the shul who invites you for Shabbos, a rabbi or rebbetzin (a rabbi's wife) who you feel you can talk to, and even the network Jewish institutions, which are there for you when you need them most. You are part of an incredible community, which is something people long for.

And secondly, there’s a structure to life. It’s like a clearly defined path, but no matter how far you may stray from it, it’s always there for you when you want to get back on. Things like Shabbos and Chaggim (festivals) make up some of the biggest stepping stones on that path. We take it for granted and don’t realise how lucky we are. It was only made apparent to me when a Non-Jewish co-worker said that he was going to choose a night of the week, give it a fancy name, and force his family to come together, because it was something he lacked in his life.

That said, there are a lot of things I don’t do.

Just two of those are big ones - I don’t keep Shabbat 100% and I’m not Kosher (Jewish dietary laws). I want to and I could – I know all the laws - but I am just not ready for it right now. I don’t believe that you or anyone else can force religion on to you when you aren’t ready,  because eventually you’ll fall off the wagon.

Learning about something and knowing that you’re not ready to take it on is one thing. But the deeper issue is when people simply don’t understand a topic, so they think it’s not right for them. The issue is that there is so much to Judaism that you just can’t understand – either ever, or until you experience it.

I experienced this first-hand when my dad died 18 months ago. I felt like my life had come to a stand still. I didn’t know how I could carry on living in a world without him. I didn’t know how to move forward.

The Jewish Mourning Laws after a parent’s death are very intense for a full year – filled with heavy restrictions on what you can and can’t do.

I learnt about it at school – but I never really understood it.  It didn’t make sense to me. It felt so old fashioned and irrelevant. The thought of taking on all of these responsibilities as a 24 year old, seemed overwhelming and if I’m honest, impossible.

But I was so wrong.

It was the community’s support, but more importantly, the mourning structure that gave me a way to move forward. It gave me direction. It sounds bizarre, but the limitations did two things:

It showed me, pretty much by force, how to live - without fear that I’d do the wrong thing or disrespect his honour. And secondly, the limitation worked as a constant reminder of what had happened – I wasn’t given a moment to deny or forget it – which ultimately, helped me accept and cope with losing my dad.

Learning about the mourning practices would never have prepared me for the understanding I gained through experience. I think of this as the micro-example of religion as a greater whole. You don’t always understand why you do something, but it’s there for a reason.

What I’ve learnt is not to let the stuff that I don’t understand or that I’m not ready for scare me away from Judaism. Right now, I don’t fit into any particular religious box – and maybe I never will. But as long as I keep learning and growing in my own way, I don’t think that’s a problem.

And I think that’s what communities need to bring out in people. The focus shouldn’t be about making people more religious, but rather making them proud to be Jewish. Because at the end of the day, you don’t have to be religious, to be a part of your religion.

It’s not about watering down Judaism so that it fits in to your life – it’s figuring out who you are, to find where you fit into Judaism.

One year later.

It’s been a year. 

365 days. 

1/25 of my life.

A year without having a dad.

At the time, I thought I'd never smile again. That I'd never be able to go a day without crying. I felt like my life had come to a standstill. I didn't know what was next or how to carry on living. It sounds like a cliche, but my world had turned grey. 

Jewish mourning laws are all about structure. For the first 7 days after the death of an immediate family member, a period of time called Shiva, there are many, strict rules to abide by. Among others: you sit on low chairs, don't watch TV or any other entertainment. You don't shave, you don't have long leisurely showers or baths. You don't even leave the house. You cover all art, all mirrors - this time is not about the superficial. You're forced to think about what has happened, no distractions, no denial.

Then comes the next few weeks taking you up to 30 days after the death. It's a time called Shloshim. Here the rules get a bit less strict. You can leave the house and go about your daily business. But you still can't listen to music, go to shows, movies, concerts. No dancing, no singing. No listening to the radio. You don't cut your hair or buy new clothing. Among a whole lot more. The end of Shloshim is the end of the mourning process for all family members, except for those who have lost a parent. For us, this carries on for a full year.

So, that has been my life and it has helped me more than I thought possible. I learnt about all of this at school, and didn't really see how it could benefit anyone. But I was so wrong.

All this structure gave me a way to move forward. It gave me direction. Showed me, pretty much by force, how to live. There was never a worry that I was doing the wrong thing, disrespecting his honour, making a wrong decision - they were all made for me. I was never given a moment to forget or deny what had happened. At every point, I was forced to remember, and ultimately, forced to accept and cope with losing my dad.

Death intimidates people. I've seen it first hand. You can feel when one of those awkward moments are going to happen, like when you meet someone new and they ask where your parents live or what they do. I try keep it light, but people who haven't been through this sort of loss, generally don't know how to act. Understandably. 

I've also had people be quite rude. They ask why I can't do something, and when I explain, they say that it sounds stupid to them. I've even had someone tell me that they don't understand why people find loss so hard to deal with, that it's just "the way the world is". 

The thing is that death will always be hard to deal with. But for me, accepting it and dealing with it, not forcing it out of mind - let me come to terms with it. 

There has been one very poignant change in myself that I noticed over the last year. After it happened, I used to say that he had "passed away". I couldn't bring myself to say it. But now, a year later, I hate those words. In a way, it feels like it's disrespectful. Like it isn't real. It's trying to ignore the truth. He died. It sucks. It's horrible. It breaks my heart. But it's what happened. And now that's what I say. I don't tip toe around it, because it makes it sound like it was easy. It lessens that pain, which was so very real. It's a harsh word, but it's just the reality.

This year is a leap year in the Jewish calendar, which means there is an extra month. So, my year of mourning only ends on 19 September. I have a few more weeks of this structure and then everything goes back to "normal" - I'm more scared of that than I thought I would be. Although, I am looking forward to buying some new clothes and cutting my hair. I'm going to miss the rules and the structure. And my constant reminder - through limitation - of my darling dad.

It's been one year. 

365 days. 

This lovely, smiling man died on 30 August 2013. 

I was 24 years old - far earlier than I expected to be without a dad.

I get through my days. Life has carried on. And while the heartache and sadness never goes away, I've learnt how to live around it.

A day of Realisations.

This isn't really a blogpost. This is more for me, because talking is difficult.

Today has not been a good day. Physically I am fine. Work is great. Life is good. Until two things dawned on me.

1. I don't have a "home" anymore.

I am a proud Durbanite. A very proud Durbanite. Although I don't want to move back, I think it's a wonderful place to grow up. My mom is moving out of the house I grew up in and I am so happy for her. The house is big, high-maintenance and has had a few break-ins and she deserves better. But, what does it mean to "go home" anymore? I know this is irrational. Home is not where the foundations are, at least not in the literal sense. Home is not my bedroom. Or the lounge. Or the kitchen I sat in learning how to cook from momma-bear herself. I know that home is where my family is, but somehow, it's not. I'll get over it. this was a minor realisation compared to number two...

2. It's Father's Day next month.

And I am terrified. I haven't spent a Father's Day with my dad in many years, but it's not being in the same space that's the point. It's having a father to call and tell him that he's amazing. To be able to say that he is the best dad that anyone could ask for. It's about having a father to celebrate. And for the first time I don't.

I'm not too sure how to deal with this. Celebrate his memory? I try do this every day. The 15th of June is not a milestone I'm looking forward to.

A stolen day.

For those of you who don’t know, my darling dad passed away suddenly on the 30^th of August 2013, after a very simple procedure went wrong. 

Anyway, back to today.

I feel robbed.

I had an idea in my mind that after six months I would have great perspective of some sort. Six months. It felt momentous, poignant. It felt like a milestone that if I could reach, I’d be ok.

But I’m not getting my six months, because dearest February doesn’t have a 30^th.

76kgs of unhappiness.

FYI: I am not being paid for this. I am not receiving free things. I even had to give the watch back after I reviewed it. I am writing this from the heart of a human, not an asshole blogger.

I've never been a very big person. But because I am 1,73 with quite broad shoulders and hips that don't lie, I've also never been tiny. Three years ago I started writing restaurant reviews, and since then I've steadily put on kg on top of kg. 15 of them to be exact.

“I would rather eat what I want than die skinny” - I've always said. And it’s true. But when I was honest with myself, I wasn’t happy. Three quarters of my cupboard didn’t fit anymore. I started only wearing baggy tops, pretending that it was just my new style. I've tried to find some photos to explain the change - but I can't. I hid in my clothes and didn't take many photos. But still, I've been lying to myself and pretending that I was fine with it. "I don't wear bikinis because I'm too old for them". Yeah, sure Kayli.

Another one of those sad posts

This is another one of those sad posts... Forgive me.

I keep saying that I just can't wait for 2013 to be over. Bring on 2014! Yay! Excitement! A fresh start! Happiness! I've managed to convince myself that a new year will make 2013, and everything that came with it, seem like a thing of the past.

But it won't.