Warning: Some of the following may be triggering and tough to get through. It is a layered topic, and I don’t hold myself as any kind of expert, but as women living in South Africa, topics like this stalk our every waking hour, so…

Dear Sis.

As I write to you, understand that I speak as an observer who does not understand the intricacies of a romantic relationship, having been single for my entire adult life. I am, however and quite paradoxically, a hopeless romantic who loves love and Love. That said, please don’t read this as an anti-relationship manifesto. Rather, read it as my love letter to us.

How are you doing? Do you want to grab a cup of tea? Because I have some things weighing on my heart. For you. For us.

Another South African Women’s Month draws to a close. As you well know, Women’s Day (9 August) is when we celebrate the day in 1956 that more than 20 000 women marched to the seat of government in order to protest the extension of Pass Laws[i] to women. Our post-1994 government decided to extend the focus on women’s issues to the whole month of August.

To say that I harbour a greeeeeaaaat deal of ambivalence towards Women’s Month[ii], is an understatement. I should be bolder and say that I feel something approximating dread, mixed with a splosh of contempt. But my sentiments may be unacceptable to some, so ‘ambivalence’ it is.

The intentions behind making Women’s Day/Month a thing were good, I guess. It was meant to lend greater focus on equality of representation, a political drive to improve employment and educational opportunities for women, a focus on greater judicial protection for women, etcetera. Etcetera.

Except Satafrika can always be trusted to turn anything into a macabre blood sport.

Women’s Month rolls around every year and we hear more accounts of our sisters being abused, maimed, and/or murdered by so-called lovers. Every August (and late November) there is an exponential upslope in news reports of increasingly brutal killings of women, often by men known to them. Like a competition has been declared. Every single year.

Of course, violence against our bodies and femicide take place every single day. But August and November hit different. Is it just because we become more ‘topical’ during those months, and thus more newsworthy?

Some cold stats to keep in mind (not too many, or we’ll need something stronger than tea to make it through this letter): [Information from Saferspaces.org.za]

• With regards to intimate partner violence, statistically speaking, men are more likely to be the perp. Women and children are more likely to be the victims. And yes. It is sometimes the other way around.
• Femicide rates in South Africa are five times the global average.
• One of our sisters is killed every 3 hours.
• More than half of all women murdered in 2009 (56%) were killed by an intimate male partner (I don’t know how many of these were exes).
• 28-37% of adult men admitted (anonymously, of course) that they had ever raped a woman. That’s 1 in 4 to 1 in 3 adult men. Even more simply put: Duck, duck, GOOSE. (2 things: This particular statistic does not make any mention of whether or not the violence was perpetrated against someone they were in an intimate relationship with: THOSE numbers might be grimmer. Physical abuse is also not mentioned as a separate statistic. I wonder what including the factor of physical abuse would mean for the stats.)
• 25-45% of SA women experienced sexual/physical IPV in their lifetime.
• Furthermore, just under 50% of us have experienced emotional or economic abuse from intimate partners.

I don’t know about you, but these numbers make my blood run cold. Even controlling for the fact that these are sample studies, and not whole population studies, unless the surveys were run in one or two extremely dysfunctional communities, this does not bode well for us as South African women.

I am weary, and I have questions.

For instance, for someone to be in an intimate relationship with someone else, I am going to assume that some kind of confession of love was made at some point. You know, to formalise the relationship. What, then, was understood by ‘I love you’, ‘Ngiyakuthanda’ and all the rest? What does ‘love’ mean to supposed lovers?

According to the Oxford dictionary, love is 1. An intense feeling of deep affection or a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone. 2. A great interest and pleasure in something. 3. A person or thing that one loves. All of these definitions of love as a noun.

But we know that love is a verb (shout out to Noted Troubadour John Mayer). Love is a Person, and that Person (God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, in case you’re lost) defines love thusly:

Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not envy, is not boastful, is not arrogant, is not rude, is not self-seeking, is not irritable, and does not keep a record of wrongs. Love finds no joy in unrighteousness but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.[iii]

Examining both the secular and sacred definitions of love, how then do we arrive at these chilling statistics?

Almost every second one of us has been, or will be, in an abusive intimate relationship. That implies that 1 in 3 to 1 in 2 men are perpetrators, give or take a few variables.

How do 1 in 3 men turn around and put hands on those they claim to love?

Even allowing for the broader definitions of love[iv], how is violence okay? When did love become an “Enter at own risk” fight to the death? Is the violence some kind of broken reaction to the attempts of government and society at the upliftment of women? A misunderstanding that the upliftment of one necessitates a trampling of the other, like we’re atop some kind of twisted see-saw? That to validate the self, one has to dominate, subjugate or eliminate the other?

Granted, all of us on this side of heaven, are still working towards this 1 Corinthians 13 definition of love[v]. But ‘all of us’ should mean ALL of us.

The way it usually plays out for us, however, is that the burden of love in intimate relationships is placed squarely and solely on the shoulders of us women. How many Convocations of the Aunties have taken new brides aside to tell them these very words? In summary: bekezela. Noma eyenzani umyeni. Bekezela, mntanami. (Translation: Endure it. Whatever your husband does. Just endure it, my child.)

Where is the Bekezela Men’s Conference telling men the same? Are the Uncles telling the bridegroom to be patient, kind, longsuffering, protective, hopeful, trusting and trustworthy? (As I read 1 Corinthians 13, the Apostle Paul was not writing to just women. As I take a sip of my tea.)

Furthermore, Paul writes in the book of Romans:

Do not owe anyone anything, except to love one another, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments, Do not commit adultery; do not murder; do not steal; do not covet; and any other commandment, are summed up by this commandment: Love your neighbour as yourself. Love does no wrong to a neighbour. Love, therefore, is the fulfilment of the law.[vi]

Love does no wrong to a neighbour. That part.

Sis, you deserve to be loved, at bare minimum, as a neighbour.

As dry and unromantic as it sounds, God’s definition of love is the foundation upon which all forms of love ought to rest. I put it to you that, in addition to agape, this definition should characterise storge. And phileo. And eros, quite frankly. Eros should especially rest on kindness, patience, humility, lack of anger, protection, trust, hope.

In our country, evidently, the definition of love has been hijacked and bastardised. Instead of it being a place to experience kindness, patience and protection, in South Africa, love is a potentially fatal space.

Perhaps you are the 1 in 2 who finds themselves in a distressing situation.

He might have not been like this when y’all first got together. We humans are masters at donning a façade, after all. But now, in the embers of that initial attraction, has his love remained patient and kind? Is it not easily angered?

Or is it proud and boastful[vii], all take and no give? Has time revealed that the Charming Brother who claims to love you actually has no practical definition of what he means by the word? Has he convinced you that his particular counterfeit and undefined brand of love is all there is, and all that you deserve? Is his ‘love’ all too ready to inflict bruises?

Is he that 1 in 3[viii]?

All of that just to say this: If his version of love lands heavy like fists, I beg you to get out. This kind of hell-bent brokenness masquerading as love, will not rest until you are eliminated.

Sis, whatever you personally believe, we are created by a God who cares how we live and how we love. We are created by Love Himself. God, who placed such high value on the human life, as to die on a cross Himself, cares what’s going down in your relationship. Don’t be afraid to believe that you deserve this kind of love. And trust, God doesn’t want you to stay in a situation that attempts to diminish your value or threatens to harm you and end your life.

This is my prayer for you, dear sis:

I pray that you take time to study the template of Perfect Love.

I pray that you have the courage and support to walk away from anything that ain’t it.

If you recognise that you’re in an unsafe space, know that you are not alone. I pray that you seek and find practical help to get out.

I pray that you don’t pay with your life for trying to get out (Lord, hear our prayer).

I pray that you feel safe once again.

I pray that, as fear of finding yourself unloved threatens to overwhelm you, that you would lift up your head, and find joy in the love of your family, of friends, but most importantly, The Perfect Love of God that casts out all fear. He is an ever-present help in times of need.

And if you have managed to get out of an abusive situation, I am so proud of you. Don’t look back.

All my love,

Your Sis.

P.S. To any brothers reading this, I am a descendant of some awesomely honourable men, and have been blessed with many equally awesome non-biological brothers (that has undercurrents of “My best friend is black”, doesn’t it? Mianhe (my apologies).) That said, this post is NOT a trashing of men. If you’re not one of the 1 in 3, then you’re not one of the 1 in 3.  If the shoe doesn’t fit, then don’t put it on. Also, please please please pen a letter to your bros, cause…it is sorely needed. On that agenda should be the following request from the women’s delegation: We implore you to sort your insecurities out in the therapeutic space. South Africa is broken. I think every single South African should at least examine whether or not society’s brokenness has trickled down to us as individuals. Thanks for listening to my TED talk.

©Copyright reserved. Gugulethu Mhlanga 2021.

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[i] The Pass Laws (officially the Population Registration Act of 1950)—the apartheid government required that each inhabitant of South Africa be classified and registered in accordance with their racial characteristics. Those thusly defined as “black” were further required to carry an internal passport (pass), in order to control the movements between urban areas and homelands, and to manage migrant labour. Homelands are a whole other topic.

[ii] And towards the 16 Days of Activism [Against Violence Towards Women and Children] (25 November to 10 December), but let’s focus on August.

[iii] 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

[iv] Covered in my post called Love is…

[v] I know I personally bomb out on at least 5 out of that list, probably more. Anywayssss, as I sip my tea.

[vi] Romans 13:8-10

[vii] The “I am the man of this house’ brigade.

[viii] Lord help me, but the evidence leads me to the conclusion that some men hate us, like way down deep in their souls. These workers of iniquity, cowards who refuse to reckon with themselves and their own brokenness, come in all hues, builds and professions: Preacher, Policeman, Politician, Doctor, Musician, Economist. Every variety.