When the GBV campaign hashtags fade, the fear doesn’t

More needs to be done than relying on once-a-year campaigns like Women’s Month to fight gender-based violence. What is needed is a shift from expecting women to self-manage their safety toward systemic accountability, effective law enforcement and active male responsibility.

Dr Maryam C Adewunmi is at the Centre for Education Rights and Transformation, Faculty of Education, University of Johannesburg.

Women’s Month has come and gone. For a few weeks, issues about women dominated the national discourse. From marches, speeches, hashtags to radio and TV talk shows, issues of women’s emancipation and gender-based violence (GBV) set the news agenda.

And, no sooner had August ended than the conversation on women quietened. As is the norm, it appeared that we were waiting for another calendar cycle to rekindle the topic – the 16 Days of Activism for No Violence Against Women and Children, running from 25 November to 10 December. The scenario is so familiar – year after year.

But then, news broke of the possibility of a serial killer on the prowl in Kempton Park – jolting the nation out of its complacency. By Monday, bodies of five women had been discovered in a thicket in and around Rhodesfield and Olifantsfontein along the R21 freeway in just two months. With that, the national discourse shifted to gender issues all over again.

Much has since been said, but the conversation points to the perennial problem: South Africa remains among the most dangerous places for women to live. Women can do as much as they want to stay safe, but their personal safety habits are simply not adequate to fully protect themselves.

It is not that women cease to require assistance in addressing the gap; rather, there is a problem when our focus on the safety of women and children is dictated by a cyclical calendar of campaigns.

This attention is often fleeting, activated by specific dates rather than being a constant commitment driven by the realities of everyday existence. When the microphones are silenced, the panels conclude and the hashtags fade into obscurity, a profound silence envelops the discourse. As the digital noise quiets, the real work begins, challenging us to confront the realities that persist beyond public engagement.

For countless women in South Africa, the daily routine unfolds in a familiar, yet unsettling manner: a hand instinctively reaches for a mobile phone, muted in anticipation of potential threats, while keys are gripped tightly.

Each step is accompanied by a meticulously rehearsed mental map of the journey home, crafted long before departure, whether the destination is the workplace, a local shop, or a family visit. Which route is safer? Should I wait for someone to walk me to the car? Should I share my location? Is it too late to leave? Should I tell someone where I am going?

These questions are not the language of freedom. Neither are they triggered by paranoia. They are the language of fear – warranting a well-practised daily mantra for survival.

For many women, some of the crimes come as a blast from the past.