We cannot tolerate such misogyny! No more!

March 2006, Al-Qalam

The (latest) Jacob Zuma saga should be a cause for concern for all of us South Africans. As we get assaulted – on a daily basis – by tantalising news headlines relating to his rape trial, we should be wondering what the story and the headlines mean for our society.

“She didn’t say ‘no’”, “She didn’t resist”, were just two of the many headlines on newspaper placards lining the streets. And, somehow, the implication was that we can’t really trust this woman who has accused one of the most powerful politicians in our country with one of the most heinous crimes we know of: rape.

Certainly, the crime of rape is not a light matter. Nor is it a light matter to be the person who is accused of it. But it is extremely troubling when the rape victim (or complainant, to be legally correct) is repeatedly portrayed in as negative a light as possible. In the Zuma case, that negative and intimidatory portrayal is happening in the courtroom, outside it and in the media.

Of course, this is not the first case where the complainant is treated in such a manner. (And I doubt it will be the last.) With the accused being the country’s former deputy president, it is, however, probably the most high- profile rape case to have taken place in South Africa.

Inside the courtroom, the complainant has been harangued, accused, mocked, sniggered at and humiliated. Her previous sexual history has been laid out for public display. The fact that she had been raped several times as a child was made light of and tossed around by the defence as if to suggest that childhood rape implies the victim was sexually promiscuous, as if being raped as a child was actually her fault.

The media, ready for the sensationalism that was sure to flow from the rape trial with huge political undertones, humiliated her again – this time in the name of news, the “She didn’t say ‘no’” type of headlines broadcasting to all of South Africa that it might have been her fault after all.

Before readers jump onto that bandwagon and ask, “well, why didn’t she say no?”, we should all remember a few facts about the reality of rape in South Africa. Firstly, the moment of a man preparing to penetrate a woman without her permission is not like an intellectual discussion around a table, where the participants can freely express their views and say “yes” or “no”. A person must be completely devoid of understanding, compassion or imagination to not be able to realise that such a woman must be in extreme fear / confusion / trauma / indecision. It is easy to imagine the woman “freezing”, not being able to say or do anything – as Zuma’s alleged victim claims she was.

Secondly, hardly any woman in South Africa will willingly and easily falsely accuse someone of rape – let alone a senior politician with such massive support in the townships, squatter camps and rural areas of this country. Not when she realises that, in fact, only one in nine female rape victims in South Africa actually report their rape. Not when she knows that of those one-in-nine reports, not all go to court. And not when she understands that of those that do go to court, only seven percent end in convictions – after the victim is lambasted in court.

But the most disgusting performances of injustice and misogyny have taken place outside court, with the perpetrators – Zuma’s supporters – being both women and men. The complainant has been called a “bitch”; those supporting her – mainly members of POWA (People Opposing Women Abuse) – have been called “those bitches”; a woman that some Zuma supporters thought was the complainant was stoned and, more recently, the complainant’s name was displayed on a placard and her picture burnt – to the chants of “burn the bitch”. (Revealing a rape complainant’s identity is illegal under the Criminal Procedures Act and this latest disgusting display should have been followed by a few arrests.)

Even more concerning than these exhibitions of women-hatred is the fact that the protestors’ hero, the man who seeks to be South Africa’s next president, has never, not once, publicly reprimanded, chastised or even corrected his supporters. Instead, he emerges from the courtroom grinning broadly, waving to his adoring devotees who seem ready to make sajda in front of him, responds to the nickname “Zulu Boy” and even leads them in the singing of “Awalethu Mshini wami” (bring my machine gun). The song, as Ebrahim Bofelo has pointed out, is particularly odious in this context because of the phallic connotations of it being sung outside a rape trial.

Although the Qur’an does not mention rape, when I read about Zuma’s trial or watch the sickening scenes on television, my mind strays to the verses of the Qur’an regarding the dignity of women and the need for women’s honour to be protected from too-eager tongues. Indeed, even the famous verses in the Qur’an relating to adultery were revealed not in order to punish anyone for adultery but to punish those who falsely cast aspersions on a woman. In the light of these verses and the sunnah of the Prophet, no Muslim can but feel revolted at the goings-on surrounding Zuma.

But the feeling of revolt is not sufficient. The fact is that the kind of sentiment expressed outside the Zuma courtroom is one that is not too difficult to find within the Muslim community too. Many among us view women who make rape accusations with scepticism, sometimes suggesting that “she asked for it”. How many times have we not heard of women who are beaten up by their husbands and who are then told to go back to the abuser and “have sabr” (patience)? Have we not heard of incidents (not in South Africa, though) of “honour killings” of Muslim women?

Whether in the context of the Zuma trial or within the Muslim community, Muslims need to increasingly commit ourselves to justice for women. Our commitment should include the determination that such things will not happen in our houses and our families. And it should include the determination that we will not shelter those who are perpetrators. Instead, we will expose them, shame them and refuse to have anything to do with them. We will do it in our homes, in our organisations and from our minbars. It is only then that we can live peacefully with our consciences – if we have consciences.