Stepping Into The Awkward Spaces
By Jo Teunissen – Director of the Durban North Baby Home
I recently stumbled across an old interview with Margaret Thatcher where she referenced a poem by Charles Mackay:
You have no enemies, you say?
Alas, my friend, the boast is poor;
He who has mingled in the fray
Of duty that the brave endure
Must have made foes!
If you have none,
Small is the work that you have done.
You’ve hit no traitor on the hip,
You’ve dashed no cup from perjured lip,
You’ve never turned the wrong to right,
You’ve been a coward in the fight
“You have no enemies, you say? Alas, my friend, the boast is poor…”
Something in this line resonated deeply with me because the truth is that we didn’t start the Baby Home to win a popularity contest. When you choose to stand up for what’s right—for children, for mothers, for truth and justice—you are bound to ruffle feathers. You will make people uneasy. You will ask the questions no one wants asked. You may make enemies. And that’s okay.
We didn’t start the Baby Home to make people comfortable. We began it to fight for those who cannot speak for themselves. For the babies who come to us with more trauma than any child should carry. For the mothers who arrive feeling scared, ashamed, and judged. For the truth—especially when it’s inconvenient or messy.
The love that drives our work isn’t soft or neat. It’s fierce, raw, and real. It means standing firm when it would be easier to stay quiet. It means sitting with a mother in silence, offering calm in the middle of their chaos. It means calling out systems that are failing. It means saying, “This child, this mother deserves more.” Even when that makes people uncomfortable.
At the Baby Home, we believe in doing what’s best for the child. Not what’s easiest for the adults. Not what looks tidy on paper. Not what makes institutions look good. And doing what’s best often means acknowledging the mothers too—their pain, their stories, their humanity. It means making space for them with compassion, not condemnation.
We’re not afraid of the uncomfortable truths:
“This child is not okay.”
“This mother doesn’t need judgment—she needs support.”
“This system is broken, and pretending otherwise doesn’t help anyone.”
If more of us step into those awkward, messy spaces – especially in a country of such enormous pain and suffering – just imagine what might change. Imagine if we stopped avoiding hard conversations; if we spoke honestly, even when our voices shook. If we listened deeply, even when we disagreed. If we acted rather than just complained. Then we’d begin to see real transformation:
More children in families that fight for them.
More mothers empowered instead of shamed.
More healing, less judgment.
More connection, less fear.
But that kind of change requires courage in our everyday choices. In saying the hard thing when it matters. In standing up when others sit down. In choosing the child over approval. Every time.
And yes, it can be lonely. Some people will misunderstand you. Others will walk away. But we don’t mind. Because people matter. Children matter. Their mothers matter.
Too often, both are left out of conversations that deeply affect them. We’re committed to making space for both: the child who needs safety, and the mother who needs someone to believe in her. We understand that speaking boldly might make us unpopular. That being honest might cost us relationships or support. But if standing up for a child costs us acceptance, so be it. If speaking the truth means losing approval, so be it. Imagine if more of us did the same. Imagine a world where we stopped pretending, and started showing up. Not with perfect solutions, but with hearts open to the hard things.
That’s where change happens—not in just in policies, but in people who choose to stand when it counts.
We’re choosing to stand. Always. And we’re deeply grateful for every person who stands with us—whether you’re in the trenches or cheering from the cheap seats. Because the truth is, we can’t do this alone.
So, here’s to saying the hard things. To loving fiercely. To stepping into the awkward spaces. To choosing what’s right—not what’s easy.
About the Author
Joanne Teunissen is an advocate for vulnerable women and children and the director of the Durban North Baby Home, a place of safety for abandoned and vulnerable babies. With a deep belief in love, dignity, and second chances, Joanne and her team work to ensure that every child and every mother is seen, heard, and valued.