This poem was written in response to the devastating news of UCT student Uyinene Mrwetyana's murder in 2019.
Dear Uyinene,
I am so sorry.
Today I sit here, ashamed, thinking:
That could have been me.
I think sometimes that I am lucky to have escaped rape and assault, and then I think what a thought that is.
I - like many of you, like Uyinene - play to the Rules of Rape:
I never walk alone, at night, in unsafe areas.
I dress more modestly than I'd like, to avoid attention I don't want.
I wear sneakers if I'm walking incase I need to run.
I avoid eye contact with strange men instead of confront their catcalls straight on.
I wait inside until my Uber has come, and I send my location to someone.
But I know there are women out there who have all these things done,
and they STILL become yet 'another one'.
I see #NotAllMen trending; a hashtag filled with women and men who choose to respond to justified anger with offense instead of understanding and action.
Instead of asking themselves: why does rape happen?
We allow it to thrive under myths, thinking it only happens under certain circumstances, to certain women, by 'bad' guys, in dark places.
Not when running errands and fetching mail at the post office.
Not in public toilets and bright forests.
Not during the day.
Not in your own home,
by someone you'd never say.
We fear :
The resignation when an accused is excused without further investigation.
The frustration when a victims statement is called 'an exaggeration' .
The silent shame when a story is held in because she mustn't 'make a scene',
for fear of blame, and ostracization.
When will we stop ignoring,
avoiding,
#NotAllMen-ing,
denying,
excusing
and justifying -
while women in South Africa are dying.
Today it might not be me,
but tomorrow it could be.