I was asked recently what defined me.
And I did not need to think of an answer.
I am a woman.
And it is now more than ever that women need to stand together. Rape culture is at an all time high.
Apparently one out of every three woman in South Africa has been or is abused.
And following the fuck awful mad disgusting abusive and beyond words despicable Donald Trump, it seems the stats are the same, if not worse, worldwide.
One in three.
Women have been sending their stories in to Twitter. Frightening, unbelievable, every day stories of sexual abuse, emotional and physical.
Thousands of stories.
I’ve told my stories too.
A dentist put his hand on my breasts when I was twelve. My mother caught him and yanked me out the chair.
We kept quiet about it.
A man put my hand on his penis as I slept in an aeroplane. I was seventeen for that one. I was able to yank my hand away on my own.
But I kept quiet about it too.
Yesterday Khwezi, Fezeka Kuzwayo, the young woman silenced by our president, Jacob Zuma, died. In 2005 Zuma had sex with her, unwanted sex because ‘she asked for it.’ She asked for it by what she was wearing, even though she said no. No. No. No. Loud and clear. No. Khwezi was threatened and forced to leave the country. Her life was ruined. And Zuma continued, unafraid, undaunted, unapologetic.
Last night Donald Trump loomed over Hillary. He literally loomed, stalking, dangerous. Apart from his buffoonery and his madness, his very physical presence over her was a threatening one.
He too, proud and unapologetic.
We need to speak out about this madness.
We need to stand together. We need to stop the violence. We need to find new ways.
RIP Khwezi. I am so sorry.
And America, I look forward to hearing the words Madame President.