I have always maintained that there are two things in the world that will never shock me: racism and sexism. Unlike many black South Africans who still get shocked by diabolical acts of racism, there is absolutely nothing that a white racist can ever do that would stun me.
We are talking here about people who have shot and killed black human beings whom they “mistook” for animals. We are talking about people who, knowing the dastardly acts of the apartheid regime, believe, in their majority (according to a study conducted by the Institute for Social Justice) that apartheid was not a crime against humanity.
We are talking here about people who celebrated a community in Phoenix, Durban, calling it “heroes” for maiming and killing black people indiscriminately. We are talking here about people who made black workers drink food laced with urine.
And these vile people who did this to workers were university students – educated men who thought that all their actions did was cause “embarrassment”. So, truly, there is nothing about racists that can shock me. In the same breath, there is absolutely nothing about sexism that can shock me. I have no delusions about the extent to which patriarchy is deeply embedded in African society.
I have seen the depths of depravity in men. I know Eudy Simelane, the former Banyana Banyana footballer and LGBTIQ+ rights activist who was brutally murdered in Kwa-Thema. I know that she was stabbed 25 times in the face, chest and legs. I know that a broken bottle was forcibly inserted into her vagina. I know Anene Booysen, a teenager who was raped and disembowelled. I know that part of her small intestine was left protruding from her vagina.
I know Tshegofatso Pule, a pregnant woman who was killed and then left hanging on a tree. I know Uyinene Mrwetyana, a University of Cape Town student who was brutally raped and killed inside a Post Office – a government facility. I also know my mother, a woman who, like millions of others, raised two children on her own when the fathers decided they weren’t going to be involved. I know Dr Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, a brilliant and competent woman whose presidential campaign was marked by the vilest anti-women sentiments.
I know patriarchy – that is why I am not shocked by allegations of rape against Molemo “Jub Jub” Maarohanye or those of domestic violence against Vusi Thembekwayo. Some have argued that Thembekwayo is “too decent and sophisticated” to be a woman-beater.
These same arguments are made about many a perpetrator of gender-based violence. But what I know for sure is that no man, absolutely none, is incapable of being a perpetrator. I am including my brother, relatives and my partner – a Zimbabwean doctor with the most beautiful mind.
He is not incapable of being an abuser – no man is. Not a president, not a pastor, not a celebrity and not even one who has built their reputation around being pro-women, as any patron of the Abantu Book Festival will tell you.
This year, with its many incidents of all forms of violence against women, taught me that we are our own liberators. It taught me that fighting against patriarchy is a fulltime job to which we must all be committed.
This year taught me to fight for myself as a black woman in a country that has devalued us – a fight I refuse to lose. As we sit on the threshold of the new year, I hope to learn better lessons – lessons that are not about survival, but about living.
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