Must women be naked to be heard?

GEOFF SIFRIN

Theatrics aside, we live in a chilling era, when the world’s most powerful man is told to rein himself in by a topless woman. This was done because his actions and language evoke the kind of foolish nationalism that led to World War War I between 1914 and 1918.

About 9.7 million soldiers and 10 million civilians died in that war. Rational people watch with alarm at the drift towards aggressive nationalism today.

Women using their bodies for politics is not new. It’s a potent weapon capable of moving a male-dominated domain. English suffragettes in the World War I era demanded voting rights for women by chaining themselves to railings, storming Parliament, and battling police.

They wore long dresses appropriate to the time. When imprisoned, they went on hunger strikes, leading the government to force-feed them.

Afterwards, Parliament gave women over the age of 30 the vote under certain qualifications, and 10 years later, full electoral equality with men.

Their campaign had a Jewish thread. In November 1912, female Jewish leaders founded the Jewish League for Woman Suffrage, linking feminist goals with Jewish loyalties. They aimed to unite Jewish suffragettes of all shades of opinion.

South African women have used their bodies to make dramatic statements, particularly about violence against women. According to the World Health Organisation, South Africa’s 2016 femicide rate was 12.1 per 100 000, almost five times higher than the global average of 2.6 per 100 000.

Statistics SA reports that 138 per 100 000 women were raped in 2017, also the highest rate in the world. The number is probably higher, with a large percentage of rapes going unreported. According to a South African Police Service report of 2018, femicide increased 11% over the past two years.

It’s incredible that a country which was the darling of the world two decades ago contains such poison. People fighting back have a bitter struggle.

At a Gender-based Violence and Femicide Summit in Irene at the beginning of November, attended by President Cyril Ramaphosa and more than 1 000 delegates, female survivors of sex trafficking, rape, abuse, and violence recounted the horrors, and demanded stronger laws.

What courage it must take for a woman to bare herself publicly as a gesture about society’s sickness. Phindile Ncube did it. Speaking from the podium, she said she was kidnapped, kept in a house in Tembisa, and raped by a gang of eight men over several days. As a result, she had to undergo five surgical operations on her stomach – including one procedure to remove plastic that had been inserted in her.

She spoke emotionally about the desperate pain of seeing her attackers back on the streets after serving only four years in prison – again, an incredible indictment of society. How did we come to this?

Then, in a shocking move, Ncube lifted her dress, wearing nothing underneath, exposing her body for all – including Ramaphosa – to see the scars.

Audience members covered their eyes at the spectacle. Facing the president, she said, “I was not born like this. This came as a result of my attackers, and I have to carry the scars while they walk free … Our lives can’t be paroled, Mr President, the minimum sentence for sex offenders must be at least 50 years.”

Some people would say even 50 years is not enough.