Women’s Day commemorates the march by about 20,000 women to the Union Buildings in Pretoria on 9 August 1956, to protest the introduction of regulations on movement, also known as pass laws by the government of South Africa at the time. The march to the Union Buildings was accompanied by similar protests in other towns and provinces, in a manner that portrayed a solid resolve and unity of purpose, for a cause that defied colour and racial differences that were the norm at the time. The march was the culmination of resistance initiatives by women in the face of state-backed oppression and brutality.
In the year 2020, we celebrate Women’s Day in extraordinary circumstances. We are in the eye of the COVID-19 storm that could not have come at a worse time. South Africa was already grappling with a growing sense of disillusionment stemming from a myriad of factors including economic deprivation and inequality, deteriorating infrastructure and service provision, and a sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) pandemic. The convergence of these factors with the COVID-19 pandemic has precipitated an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and despair.
Evidently, the times are hard for everyone, but more so for women. However, the present-day challenges fade in comparison to the circumstances that the women of the 1956 marches had endured. Still, reflecting on the experiences, methods and aspirations of the women’s movement at that time is helpful in shaping our perspectives of the circumstances of women in South Africa today. Their collective intent was succinctly captured in the Women’s Charter of 1954.
The context in which this year’s Women’s Day is taking place pushes us more to contemplative reflection than celebration. In the midst of a dual health and SGBV pandemic, a debilitating economic crisis for a majority of South Africans, and a disproportionate disadvantage occasioned to women in the current climate, it is indeed easier and expedient to resort to despair; to accept our lot and earn a resilience badge.
Yet to focus exclusively on the misery occasioned by the prevailing circumstances would undercut the recognition of the contributions of millions of ordinary women in South Africa, whose small day to day actions challenge misogyny and discrimination in their domains, resisting conformity and embracing discomfort to challenge the status quo for the next generation.
Progress, but not enough
There has been some progress towards the ideals that these women fought for, including in the normative recognition of women’s equality as in the Constitution, better representation in the governance, business and professional fields, access to better education, as well as some access to economic opportunities. We duly acknowledge these. However, as has become evident during the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, our equality, including gender, is largely farcical.
In June 2020, President Cyril Ramaphosa characterized the incidence of SGBV in South Africa as a national pandemic. In his words, what was happening was a “war being waged against the women and children of this country.” This was politically significant, but it did not, in fact, need saying. The gory images and reports of women and girls losing their lives in the hands of men are fresh in our memories, replaying every so often as if on a loop. Similarly, there is a pervasive and uneasy silence on the abuse of minority women such as lesbian and transgender women, or migrants. It is even more daunting to think of the extent and equally deleterious impact of the psychosocial, emotional and economic dimensions of the violence, and which we largely cannot see. There is also the lurking fear that the very statistics that prick our conscience, could also be numbing us and making us complicit in the normalisation and continuation of abuse.
But it would not be fair to make Women’s Day all about SGBV, because that would not do justice to the fullness of women’s experiences in South Africa in 2020. And I cannot, in any case, purport to highlight all the facets of that experience to any reasonable extent within the confines of this piece.
Every Women’s Month (August) since 1995, we proclaim the milestones we have covered towards gender equality, and equally lament the barriers that still stand. We speak of the existence of a wonderful tapestry of laws and policies, and our perpetual problem of non-implementation. This narrative is predictable and ritualistic, leading to a general fatigue of ‘calling on’ government and other stakeholders to seek one another out and ‘do something’. I hesitate to add to that chorus. I also hesitate to recount the laws, policies and institutions that we have created over time, because clearly these are not the problem.
If women’s equality is to be achieved, it is incumbent upon us to break the bind of this ritual, even if one strand at a time. In recent times, I have listened to notable women leaders emphasising the need for social mobilisation on various platforms. I agree that this is indeed a very potent strategy. I would add to it, the need to take the gender equality dialogue out of books, boardrooms, and workshops to the local shebeens, churches, mosques, and the like. To make the gender equality conversation so ubiquitous in society, that it is normalised and impossible to ignore. That, in my view, would be (to borrow the words of Melinda Gates) ‘the moment of lift.’
Looking back to look forward
One of the many gifts bequeathed to us by the women’s movement of yore is that we hardly need to reinvent the wheel. In fact, social mobilisation and the ability to seamlessly permeate public-private spheres was the very strength of the movement.
Though different in substance, there are some uncomfortable parallels in the fight that the women of the 1950s led, and the circumstances that women in a democratic South Africa still have to contend with today. One clear example is the manner in which the policies of the day, even when not intentionally gendered, disproportionately disrupt the ecosystem of women’s existence in the private sphere. By rising against the pass laws, the women of South Africa were essentially demanding that their private afflictions be of public and collective concern. They understood that oppression and violation thrive in invisibility. By bringing their private struggles into the public arena, the cause became ever more relatable to the majority of women, and the broader society.
In similar fashion, the discourse on women’s equality in South Africa has tended to dwell on the public aspects of women’s equality such as equal representation, education and/or labour, while tiptoeing around equality in the personal space. It is therefore no surprise that vices such as SGBV continue to thrive more than 30 years into democracy. The lived experiences of women in their private space hardly count in public policy making, resulting in reactive responses when systems fail. The latter has, for instance, been evident in the approach to the COVID-19 response where the initial measures taken were arguably gender blind, with the effect that women’s lives and livelihoods were disproportionately affected, as manifested in increased cases of SGBV, and loss of livelihoods.
The personal, public
The pursuit of equality in the public space while largely ignoring the deep seated and more pervasive pockets of inequality in the private sphere is convenient to the state, and elitist. It is convenient because it allows the state to continue recounting numbers on representation, while doing much less to nurture social change which requires constant and long-term investment, and for which it is harder to prove results. It is elitist because it resonates with, and benefits those with access to the tools of empowerment, and who then become the gatekeepers of the system.
The price of the convenient approach is far too steep. It is the continued disenfranchisement of women, who feel that the scales are perpetually tipped against them, because they are far too often expected to conform to parallel sets of gender equality norms in their personal space and in public. Elitism, on the other hand, is quite simply an antithesis to effective social mobilisation.
Public policy often reflects a society’s collective ideas of acceptable norms. This demands that priority be accorded to efforts to cultivate gender equality at the lowest units of society. It is therefore perturbing to see the practice of relegating efforts to combat gender inequality and abuse of women to the realm of ‘women’s issues’.
Dealing with a similar reality at the height of the resistance, the women’s movement through the Women’s Charter, declared the intent to;
“… teach the men that they cannot hope to liberate themselves from the evils of discrimination and prejudice as long as they fail to extend to women complete and unqualified equality in law and practice...” and that
“… freedom cannot be won for any one section or for the people as a whole as long as we women are kept in bondage."
This is not, in any way, to diminish the contribution of men who actively and genuinely engage with the pursuit of women’s equality. Rather, it is to emphasise the disservice that such a framing does to the goal of challenging the exclusion of women’s issues from the mainstream of a society that is largely male centric. Indeed, for as long as women have a dual existence in the parallel worlds of their public and personal lives, the goals of gender equality will remain defeated. Similarly, as long as women on the margins of society such as sexual minorities, women with disabilities, or migrants remain excluded from equal protection, equality will remain elusive.
Confronting the real inequalities in our society demands courage to face up to the uncomfortable aspects of the subject, especially in as far as tackling inequality in the private space. It demands that we actively confront the excuses for gender inequality that are embedded in culture and religion, in the spaces where they are cultivated and nurtured. It entails recognizing that equality was never given to women as if it were a privilege that can be taken away and for which they ought to be grateful. On the contrary, women in South African, as in the rest of the world, had to wrestle for recognition of their full humanity from a society comfortable with their subjugation. Women’s equality will therefore continue to be a struggle until gender equality is hegemonic.
Women’s rights advocates would do well to draw lessons from the commitment, resilience and sense of purpose of the stalwarts of the movement. Indeed, during the 1956 march, the women of South Africa recognized and seized a moment of unity on a shared cause, ignoring other factors that otherwise separated them, such as race. In this way, they led the way in demonstrating that there can be no equality when any sub-set of a society remains oppressed.
For years, women’s rights have worn the face and voice of women, specifically cisgender women, making it easy to relegate gender equality issues to the periphery of policy making and political mobilisation. There is urgent need to rethink the constituency of gender equality in its entirety: its goals, membership, leadership, cause and methods.
It is surreal to see that the appeal of the women of 1956 remains as relevant today as it was at the time. In the words of the Women’s Charter:
“We, the women of South Africa, declare our aim of striving for the removal of all laws, regulations, conventions and customs that discriminate against us as women, and that deprive us in any way of our inherent right to the advantages, responsibilities and opportunities that society offers to any one section of the population”
“…. appeal to all progressive organisations, to members of the great National Liberatory movements, to the trade unions and working class organisations, to the churches, educational and welfare organisations, to all progressive men and women who have the interests of the people at heart, to join with us in this great and noble endeavour.”
This appeal cannot be fully actualized by the rhetorical call to the government to ‘do something’ about gender inequality. Rather, it begs for collective action from all of us, including a new and younger generation of advocates. It is a call for commitment to meaningful equality, not just in the public representation and spaces, but also in our homes. To reclaim our voices without fear or shame. To embrace discomfort in confronting the social foundations of inequality that beguile us with a sense of equality while simultaneously undermining it.
Happy Women’s Day!
Dr Nkatha Murungi
Assistant Director: Centre for Human Rights,
Faculty of Law, University of Pretoria