How to make Women’s Day even worse: just add pandemic plus lockdown

Me realising that it’s Women’s Day again.

What’s worse than the annual Women’s Day hypocrisy-fest in which we pretend we care about women’s rights in a country with off-the-charts levels of violence and discrimination against women? I’ll tell you: Women’s Day under a pandemic lockdown that’s made everything even worse for women. Most especially poor black women, already squeezed half to death as they stand between the nation and social collapse. (Try to imagine a total strike by ALL South Africa’s women tomorrow — no looking after children, no nappy-changing, no hauling their weary bones into death-trap taxis to bring home bacon they’ll have to cook, no NOTHING — and you’ll see what I mean.)

If you’re an idealist, this pandemic has been a hideous exercise in grinding down any hope that fairness and justice will prevail. Apart from the brute unfairness of this bloody virus (which digs its spikes disproportionately into the vulnerable), one of the worst aspects for me has been the dawning realisation that the world does not seem to WANT equality and justice. These qualities we espouse in theory are just way too inconvenient to put into practice. If women can’t be guilted or socialised into doing far more than their fair share of domestic chores, educating children, keeping households and workplaces going (for less pay than their male co-workers), then the human species might have to accept responsibility for sharing childcare and domestic labour. Frankly, the world doesn’t want that — not if it can get away with designating this endless labour to certain populations on the basis of the contents of their pants and the colour of their skin.

I was so naive, I truly thought this lockdown would lead to a deep understanding and appreciation of the need for decent childcare; Damascene insights into the importance of teachers and healthcare workers; an unequivocal demand for universal health care, humane sick leave policies and parental leave; the realisation that this might be our last chance to save the planet before it’s too late; the embracing of work from home practices; no more traffic jams, unsafe work commutes, or underwire bras.

With the possible exception of the matter of bras: WHAT WAS I SMOKING?

Most of all, I hoped we would finally grasp the nettle of our other, ongoing pandemic: violence against women (and children). When the lockdown was announced, the first thoughts of many went in horror to the prospect of all those women now trapped at home 24/7 with their abusers. The ban on alcohol made things both better and worse in this respect, but the ban on smoking was (and remains) spectacularly stupid: forcing violent men to go cold turkey, or spend a disproportionate amount of the household food budget on black-market cigarettes? (Never mind strengthening criminal cabals it will take us decades to rein in.)

My first response was to write a blog on how we might help women unexpectedly caught in these ghastly scenarios. But then I got furious: because while we can’t do much to halt the march of this sneaky virus around the globe, we can stop domestic and intimate violence — easily, and within the next five minutes. This abuse is an utterly unnecessary evil. It is not a force of nature, a storm or even a germ; it is always, ALWAYS, the result of a moral choice. Made in the vast majority of cases by men.

So here’s what we should be insisting on, for Women’s Day: that every single man in this country put down his fists. How very fucking dare you? You have absolutely no right to inflict violence on those who are physically weaker than you. You’re not doling out a “pak slae” or “teaching a lesson”: you’re a CRIMINAL performing acts of evil. Stop RIGHT NOW.

I’m no longer interested in think-tanks or commissions or studies to look into the deep-rooted causes of gender-based violence. I’ve done my time (literally decades) in those trenches, and the bottom line is that there is no excuse for the ongoing spree of femicide, rape, brutality and abuse that South African men dole out every hour of the day. (Yeah yeah, I know women can abuse too. But on the whole we don’t tend to string up our fiances from trees, or batter young men to death in Post Offices, or land our family members in hospital casualty rooms every time we go on a drinking binge. So don’t bother to #whatabout me.)

But it led me to thinking about the relationship between the state and citizens, and the evil of corruption, because — let's face it — as a nation, we’re in an abusive relationship with our government. A friend whose husband repeatedly beat her said the worst wasn’t the violence: it was the fake remorse, the endless promises that it would “never happen again”. Does this sound familiar, fellow South Africans?

Why do we accept, with such meekness, the pure evil that is domestic violence? The utter wickedness of corruption? Who responds to the announcement of a global pandemic that will costs the lives of millions and cause untold suffering with “Oh whoopee, a juicy chance to move a ton of taxpayers’ money into my off-shore account and buy a BMW x7”? Especially when the country’s unemployed have just been told they’ll be getting a once-off Covid support grant of R350 (about $22)? (Don’t spend it all at once.)

The two things are related, I swear. We’re like that weary battered wife who accepts her brutal husband’s apologies and staggers on, hoping against hope that things will change. At the start of the lockdown, we all heard Uncle Cyril promising “This time, things will be different. We’ll take care of you, we really really will.” And we swallowed it — well, I certainly did. Yes, things would be tough, but we had a fresh start! We could reset the 1994 button!

And here we are, stripped bare, desperate, battered, cheated, lied to, and facing a truly appalling future with little or no help. We’ve been yelling for decades that corruption costs lives. Children starve — or they drown in pit latrines. Sick people collapse and die in queues at overburdened hospitals. People can’t follow pandemic hygiene measures in provinces where municipalities are not only failing to supply water; they’ve also spiked efforts by NGOs to drill boreholes and mend dams. There are days when I devoutly hope not so much that is there is a heaven, but that there is a hell, and that those responsible for this vicious abuse of those they have promised to serve and safeguard will spend eternity with demons sticking pitchforks into their guts.

Now we’re told by spin doctors that the ANC* is “embarrassed by corruption”. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? This is like a man showing up in the emergency room of a hospital for the umpteenth time, his wife in tow with her ribs broken (again), teeth knocked out (again), face bearing all the marks of his fists (again), and saying “Oh dear, I’m so embarrassed.” WHY DON’T YOU JUST STOP PUNCHING HER, you festering pustule? Why is there apparent absolute impunity for corrupt government officials (and the latest revelations show that these start with the CEOs and CFOs of departments, so don’t give us that “a few rogues” line).

Yes, there are honest public servants, and the actions of their (many) corrupt colleagues must have an appalling impact on morale, especially as punishment in this country tends to be reserved for whistleblowers, not evildoers. To stretch my parallel between corruption in government and wife-beaters, this is a convoluted form of blaming and punishing those who dare break the silence.

Well, I’m shouting (again). DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE HIT YOUR WIFE OR CHILD OR MOTHER AGAIN. AND SEND CORRUPT POLITICIANS TO JAIL. It really can be that simple.

This time of year, I always ask folk to support Rape Crisis with donations. Please do. But there’s another project close to my heart. My brave and gracious friend Tracy Going wrote a moving memoir (Brutal Legacy) about growing up with a father who battered her mother, and how this led her to a violent relationship that cost her her career, a fortune in legal fees, and in which she saw not one smidgeon of justice. As is typical of her, she’s turned it into a fundraising and educational project for millions of women who’ve suffered the same fate. Right now, in partnership with the Saartjie Baartman Centre in Manenberg, she’s asking for donations towards masks for those who can’t afford them, and also to create employment: please give if you can.

PS: This is the blog that started it all: “Take your Women’s Day and shove it.” Plus ca bloody change since 2012, but the good news is that Rape Crisis is still going. I’ll take that as a huge win.

* It’s worth adding that the scramble towards cosy corruption deals has been seen in all the major opposition parties: this is not an ANC disease, even if it’s at its most shameless there.