Beat It! - 16 Days Of Activism

My high school Afrikaans teacher gave us an interesting lesson one day that I have carried with me ever since. The book we were reading contained an abusive husband. Mrs. Brown said something along the lines of “If he lays his hands on you let him. But tonight when he goes to bed you warm yourself a large pot of oil and once its lekker warm, you pour it over his manhood.” Tsek!

It wasn’t part of the curriculum and what you do afterwards is up to you. But it would definitely guarantee that he won’t dare lay a finger on you again. And we were tog all taught that boys don’t hit girls from a young age.

In South Africa, a woman is killed by her intimate partner every 4 to 8 hours depending who you ask. This is the most leading cause of death among South African females. The femicide rate is 4 times the global average.  Up to 40% of pregnant women are physically abused.

In the midst of 16 Days of Activism, our 2017 idols runner up Mthokozisi Ndaba is accused of assaulting a woman over a bottle of vodka that didn't even belong to him. I’m not saying that he is guilty or that he assaulted anyone but what pissed me off is what he said in his press release when he eventually came out of hiding.

 “...We do not know what issues she may be dealing with…”

 Insinuating that the woman has issues and chose to falsely accuse him of assault because she couldn’t deal with her emotional woes.

And how many females can say that a man has said that about or directly to them?

‘dai’s n mal ding man’

‘jy’s siek in jou kop in’

‘Dai goose is befok’

I’ve had those things said to me because I wouldn’t allow my cousin’s friends to call me names and taunt me. I’ve heard those things because I stood up for myself. I’ve heard those things in relationships and in conversations from one bra to another.

He’s being accused of something and she must be crazy.

The very woman that you have driven in sane with your bullshit has now turned ‘crazy’ because she isn’t putting up your kak any longer and has turned sterk gevriet.

While my dysfunctional relationship didn’t require a pot of hot oil I wasn’t going to stand being called ‘mal’ every time I pointed out something that required addressing. I wasn’t going to deal with the silent treatment because he didn’t feel like talking about issues in our relationship. I sure as hell wasn’t going to allow our daughter to witness constant bickering and fighting between two parents who clearly weren’t getting along anymore.

I don’t want to call it ‘abuse’ because our fights were almost mutual. I was never a battered woman. I never walked around with physical scars - besides a busted lip on one occasion. I defended myself, with whatever was closest. But let’s face it.

Our first physical fight happened when I was 3 months pregnant. He only stopped because I screamed and started crying so I could grab the broomstick.  I was still pregnant when I received that broken lip. Which he tried to sooth with glycerine afterwards while telling me it was my fault. Giving “Botter deur jou bek smee” a new meaning. The argument was about cleaning the damn room. I was a single mother before I had even given birth – in a relationship. Weekends were about lamming and suiping with brasse and then sleeping when he got back to where he left his pregnant girlfriend to do house work.  And the fights would ensue because he wanted to tiep and I wouldn’t let him.

There were occasions where my parents had to intervene because my daughter would be left traumatised.  We’d have fights in the middle of the night. After three years I had decided that I wanted out – so I got out.  But even after four years of singlehood I wasn’t allowed to move on when he threatened suicide and cut up my clothes when I found someone new. Even after all the women he has been with, all the dick pics he has sent and females who have insulted me because I was the mother of his child, he still felt I belonged to him.

Luckily my story is different because three years later I am free. For some women the abuse is constant. For some women the abuse ends in death. Women like Mananki  Annah Boys, Nicola Pienaar, Karabo Mokoena and Aviwe Jam Jam whose husbands and boyfriends took ‘ownership’ and subsequently their lives.