Die
verskriklike stories oor die verkragtings van vroue in Bredasdorp, van kinders
in Ceres en van vroue in Indië in die afgelope tyd het in vroue-maand nog meer
as gewone aandag getrek. Die woede en verontwaardiging loop wyd oor die
dierlike optrede teenoor weerlose mense.
In
'n merkwaardige artikel in die Dailymaverick skryf Paul Berkowitz dat dit
maklik is om verontwaardig te word oor geweld om 'n mens.
Maar,
voeg hy dan by, hoe blind is 'n mens vir die geweld in jou teenoor mense die
naaste aan jou. Nie net wat hy skryf nie, maar hoe hy dit skryf raak 'n rou
senuwees aan.
Terwyl
ek dit lees, dink ek watter belangrike preekstof in hierdie materiaal opgesluit
is.
Meer nog: Ek besef hoe hierdie intieme bekendmaking die skrywer se manier is om eienaarskap te neem van sy innerlike woede en die geweld waartoe hy lei. Deur dit jou eie te maak, begin die genesing - en vee jy jou voor jou eie deur.
Die Franse skrywer, Girard, het veel gemaak van die gemeenskap se neiging om sondebokke te soek en hulle te blameer. Dit lê diep in 'n mens se gene om die skuld buite jouself te soek. Dit is daarom al 'n belangrike stap vorentoe wanneer 'n mens na binne kan kyk, hand in eie boesem steek en skuld kan raaksien by jouself.
Dit is om van te leer.
Hy
skryf:
"I
have never raped anyone or physically assaulted a woman, but I have committed
violence against pretty much every woman I’ve been close to. I have fed my
anger and allowed it to fill many relationships. I have taken out my own fears
and inadequacies on my partners with harsh criticism and judgement, amplifying
their shortcomings to avoid having to deal with mine.
I
have belittled, ignored and silently judged instead of speaking openly and
honestly. I have built a wall around my ego and spent more time strengthening
its foundations than trying to broker an honest peace. I have made my moods,
opinions, feelings and desires the only things that counted.
I
have screamed and sworn. I used my position as the breadwinner to threaten and
to silence. I have been too impatient to listen, too tired, too angry, too
scared, too ashamed to talk.
I
did those things, and still do some of those things, for many reasons. Some of
it I learned from the men in my family, like all other men do. Some of it,
hopefully, was done out of ignorance because I didn’t even try to empathise
with the women in my life for a long time.
Mostly,
basically, I did those things because I could. I still can, if I want to.
Society allows me, like all men, to normalise physical, emotional, financial
and structural violence against women. I commit my violence in my home, away
from prying eyes, like most of the men who beat and rape women.
The
women in my life learned to be lightning rods that could earth the anger,
absorbing the damage for themselves. Much of their time in the relationship was
spent appeasing and trying to please, leaving not much time for their needs.
I
suffer from road rage. I can’t count how many other drivers I’ve sworn at,
shown the finger, flashed brights, or hooted at. I’ve been involved in one
physical altercation as a result. I am lucky that I haven’t been seriously
injured or killed as a result of my stupidity.
The
structures that allow me to act in the way I choose also allow most rapists and
beaters enough leeway to do what they do with impunity, if they are rich enough
or smart enough. Jub-Jub, Charlie Sheen, Chris Brown, Mel Gibson, Tommy Lee and
Sean Penn have all been trouble with the law for various things but bashing the
women in their lives hasn’t ended their careers.
The
anger and violence in our society is toxic. As men we aren’t given many tools
for effective communication and conflict resolution. Many men stumble through
their lives half-aware, approaching every problem with a hammer made of
stereotypes and indoctrination. I am struggling myself. The work is difficult
and the results are gradual.
Quick
fixes are so tempting when the problem is big and the process of
self-reflection is painful, but there is no other way. If we want to stop
violence against women then we must create a society that values women, not one
that makes it harder to rape women.
Putting
up adequate lighting in the Western Cape might be very effective in curbing
violent rape by strangers but it does nothing to dismantle the structures that
reward sexual prowess in men and punish it in women, that view women as worth
less than men, that punish the victim, that normalise and discount women’s pain.
Whatever
the DA does or does not do at the moment, at this point it’s still streets
ahead of the Zuma administration. From building special homes to protect
grannies in KwaZulu-Natal from rape to creating a department for women that
sounds like a list of people denied the vote in ancient Greece, the current lot
have it spectacularly wrong. The delusion that a new ministry could solve the
problems of women everywhere by ticking a lot of employment equity boxes and
also cunningly house useless ministers that can’t be demoted is a delusion on
an epic scale.
Anyway,
politicians will not cure rape. Finger pointing will not cure rape. Handing out
Real Men badges will not cure rape.
Not
committing the very worst abuses of power does not make me a real man. Real men
take responsibility for their actions. Real men take ownership of their anger
and their pain. Real men don’t confuse power with strength.
Some
days I feel more real than others. I am trying really hard to keep real, and to
keep it real. I try to see occupant of the car ahead of me as my neighbour and
not my enemy. My partner is not my adversary; she is the woman who was brave
enough and strong enough to help me through my worst.
The
men who rape must be prosecuted and convicted but they cannot serve as the
scapegoats for my own anger. As a society, we cannot pretend that this is a
cancer we can sacrifice a limb for, because we will soon find that the cancer
has metastasised."
