Recently in my community and throughout South Africa, there has been more attention towards and more awareness of gender based violence. Although this isn’t new news, I’ve heard and talked about it more in my community this month than I have all year. According to Statistics SA’s 2016 Demographic and Health survey, on average 1 in 5 South African women older than 18 has experienced physical violence. Even more so, 4 in 10 divorced or separated women reported physical violence. In her book, The Born Frees, Kimberly Burge comments on this persistent injustice in South Africa:
“Why do South Africans, who fought so courageously and fiercely to rid their nation of a racist government, tacitly accept the abuse and killing of their mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, and friends? I cannot understand it.”
I certainly can’t either. Throughout this year I’ve met and heard stories about women who have faced domestic violence. Whether it was themselves, their daughter, niece or friend, it happens more to often than we would like to think.
I’ve never been made more aware of my gender until coming to South Africa. There’s been more attention on my body image, what I should wear, on my relationship status, and on my age. More attention on where I go, what time, and who I am with. More limitations. And much of that has to do with my safety. But sometimes I can’t help but ask, what if roles were reversed? It can feel defeating. How can we get beyond these limitations? And even more than limitations, how can we bring and end to gender based violence?
But in the past few weeks I’ve come to realize that I haven’t been seeing the whole picture. I’ve been so focused on the negative and injustice, and blind to the strength and determination. Like last week when I attended a funeral Friday afternoon and women from the community came in numbers with their kitchen knifes to help prepare alllllllll the food for the family. Or my friend who works her butt off everyday, to give all her earnings to her son to pay for his education. Or a conversation with a 14-year-old young woman, who tells me, “I don’t know who made boxes we girls are supposed to fit in, but no one is going to put me in a box.”
It’s these women who remind me that those limitations and abuses are not the end of the story. As I am continually inspired by them all. I also can’t help but thank my amazing friend Gontse for teaching me more about actually hearing the voices of the women of South Africa.
I met Gontse on my first day at Kopa Dilalelo, the primary school I volunteer at. Immediately she reminded me of my best friend and college roommate, Carolyn. She was so welcoming and asked me so many questions right off the bat. Gontse included me in everything from day one, whether she was translating conversations in Tswana for me or taking me with her to pick something up at the tuck shop. She would grab my hand and say, “Samantha let’s go!” (Talk about walking beside our global companions! Literally!)
Gontse has been there with me through thick and thin, helping me without even always knowing. She’s there if I need to vent or ask for advice. Gontse knows me beyond this YAGM year. We’ve spent many afternoons sharing life stories and getting to know each other. I love the days when we laugh over cultural differences and phrases. Apparently “guesstimating” isn’t a word used very often in South Africa! I love to laugh, and Gontse and I are always laughing together. She welcomes me into her home with open arms. Even once when I was having a bad week and she didn’t know, she invited me over and had bought donuts for us to share! It was a little taste of home I needed. Gontse is the kind of friends to just call and check up on me. She always knows what’s going on with my family back home and always asks how the other volunteers (by name) in my group are doing. She encourages me to be me, that I am beautiful, that I am enough, and that settling is not an option.
Gontse has a two-year-old son and continues to inspire me beyond belief. As she juggles school at university and motherhood, she still has time to support her friends and her community. As the only parental supporter of her son, Gontse empowers single women everywhere. And even on the days I know she is most tired, she handles it all with grace. She’s not willing to settle for herself or her child. She is strong, determined and will not let limitations hold her back.
Two weeks ago I was visiting Gontse at her house. She brought out her favorite purple lipstick, she wanted me to try it. I was nervous and she just laughed. Never have I been brave or bold enough to wear a lot of lipstick, let alone purple. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. Little did Gontse know that purple is my absolute favorite color. We went for a walk to pick up her son from the crèche and I felt empowered, hand in hand with our purple lipstick. I walked with a new found confidence. But it was more than that. Although odds can be against us, a lot of pressure on our actions, and limitations we can’t control, we walk hand in hand because we are stronger together. Purple is the color for domestic violence awareness, a symbol of peace, survival and courage.
Last week Gontse invited me to attend a memorial vigil with her, for a young woman in our community whose life was sadly cut short as a result of domestic violence; she has left behind her two young children. On our way to the service, Gontse let me borrow a black jacket and handed me some of her purple lip stick with a big smile. I smiled back and put it on with out hesitation. Together we stood supporting this woman and so many of our sisters who continue to face gender based violence. “We aren’t going to let this keep happening.” Gontse told me.
And she’s right.
Walking Together 