August in South Africa is called Women’s Month — a time meant to celebrate the strength, power, and progress of women. We are told to reflect on the courage of those who fought for our rights, and to inspire the next generation to keep going.
But what is there to celebrate when women and girls are being slaughtered, raped, and silenced every day?
Take the story of Cwecwe, a schoolgirl raped within her own school. Her mother turned to the police, but they shut the door in her face. She had to beg the country through the media for justice — and still, nothing was done. Nothing to protect a child. Nothing to punish a predator.
And now, this Women’s Month, I wake up to another horror: the fifth woman’s body found in Hatfield, Pretoria, killed by a serial killer targeting women between 19 and 35. The advice? “Women, protect yourselves. Be safe.”
But how? How do we “be safe” when we are not the problem?
We are told: walk in groups, don’t talk to strangers, wear long skirts. But hasn’t it been clear from the start? It was never about what we wore, where we walked, or who we spoke to. The danger was never women — it was always men.
So what do we tell Cwecwe? That she brought it upon herself? That as a schoolgirl she somehow invited the violence she endured? That is the lie we’ve been fed all our lives. The truth is this: instead of educating men not to rape, not to kill, not to harm, society chose to educate women on how not to be victims. And still, we die.
This Women’s Month, I cannot write about celebration. I cannot write about empowerment speeches or flowers. I can only write about survival — and even survival is no longer promised to us.
Because here is the reality:
We are not safe at home.
We are not safe at school.
We are not safe when we walk down the street.
South Africa has failed its women.
The police have failed us.
The justice system has failed us.
And too many men continue to fail us.
If you feel uncomfortable reading this, you should. Because for women in South Africa, discomfort is not a passing moment — it is a way of life. We do not get to “switch off” the fear when the news cycle ends or when Women’s Month is over. We carry it in our bodies, in our homes, in our workplaces.
So before you hand us flowers or give another hollow speech about empowerment, ask yourself this:
What good is celebrating women if you will not fight for their right to live?