If there is one strand that draws men of all social and economic stature, religious sentiments, races and even intelligence together, it is our ambition to control, regulate and own women, writes Azad Essa.
Over the past few weeks, South Africans have been hit by a series of grotesque crimes against women. The attacks have drawn a curious mix of shock and disdain. But for many women, the atrocities have unravelled the immense feeling of prolonged suffocation.
Rape is not unique to South Africa. Neither are we the rape capital of the world. And it doesn’t matter either way.
The story of violence against women has reached an impasse; every attack has become a personal affront. There is a new, urgent clarity: anyone could be next.
And yet, like all things South African, we still like to think of it is a scourge inflicted by evil men someplace else.
We have imagery of the Taliban performing untold horrors on women dressed as ninjas in Afghanistan, or archaic female genital mutilation in faraway Eritrea, or horrific gang rape of villagers in jungles of the eastern Congo. And when it is in our country: it is poor uneducated black men in townships, and taxi drivers in the inner city who must be the main culprits in committing crimes against women.
But if there is one strand that draws men of all social and economic stature, religious sentiments, races and even intelligence together, it is our ambition to control, regulate and own women.
And while there are certainly a plethora of “reasons” why men feel the need to exert a toxic masculinity upon women, children, the marginalised and other men, the extent of bigotry acted out is certainly not inversely proportional to the level of liberty enjoyed by men.
In other words, men are trash despite, not as a result of, their condition.
For instance: When poor, hungry black men abuse women in our townships, the “cause” becomes embroiled between a suspended revolution and the oppression of a white-dominated economy.
Likewise, say in an international dispute like Kashmir: when a Kashmiri man brutalises a Kashmiri woman in a domestic affair, it becomes an excuse for Indian nationalists to de-legitimise the Kashmiri cause for self-determination.
Kashmiris, in response, will cite the Indian occupation as needing exorcism first before dealing with internal demons.
In so doing, the ambition of securing genuine equality for women is almost always deferred.
Let’s fix “this” first, we all seem to say. It will “get better”.
In reality, it doesn’t matter if you are a white investment banker living in Melrose Arch. Or a poor black brother living in a shack in Marikana, or an oppressed Palestinian olive farmer living under Israeli occupation, or a French peacekeeper sent to protect civilians in Bangui. Hell, you could be the president of the US and still be an abhorrent slimeball.
Because? Men are trash.
One’s attitude towards women certainly does not dictate how far we are able to rise, or compete. All that differs is our societal standing or our willingness to comply with our privilege. And it is especially privileged to be a man.
The hardships of purported guardianship, breadwinner duties, of competing in a horrendous jungle of shrinking opportunity, pales in comparison to the challenges women are expected to scale in dispelling male-projections of engendered inadequacy.
You don’t need to rape or physically brutalise a body to be guilty of perpetuating a system that delineates abuse into a competition for the harshest method of brutality. The rape of children and women is only the last point of an ongoing process of a brutality meted out by patriarchy every day.
This is why men are happy to cast rape as metaphors to tell tales of political debauchery or state plunder and think little of the far-reaching catch. Each time we protect a narrative that dictates how women dress and look, the careers they choose, or the way they speak, we become part of a horrific machinery that suppresses.
And we are all guilty. I know I am.
This is part of the reason why most cases of rape or sexual assault, or intimate partner violence never make it to the police station for fear of shame, disbelief or family pressure. If they do get there, consider that the overwhelming majority of sexual offenders are never held to account. Experts say the criminal justice system is simply too loopy for it to act as a serious deterrent. And this is within a “functioning democracy”. What happens inside a conflict zone, how do victims approach the UN when it is their peacekeepers who are the culprits? The conversation worldwide is shifting; a push to recognise that it is not black men, Muslims, priests or warlords that are “the problem”.
* Azad Essa is a journalist at Al Jazeera. He is also co-founding editor of The Daily Vox.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.