The world is a pretty angry place right now and slapping slogans together does not seem to be having the desired effect.
As I write this, #JusticeForNaledi is the number 1 trending theme in South Africa. It stems from the death of Naledi Phangindawo (still at the “allegedly” stage) at the hands of her boyfriend after she attempted to leave him. The reports claim that she was “hacked” to death.
It is a horrific reality that those in our country face and while various techniques are employed to fight the scourge of gender-based violence, the social media campaigns need some work.
Were Naledi the first to perish in these awful circumstances, I’d be less inclined to critique this but we’ve been here before…many times. The #JusticeForX cries have sadly lost impact and the world keeps turning the same way it always has.
I’m reminded of my primary school days where we were compelled to call our male teachers, “sir” as a sign of respect. When we went to the computer room and the kid next to me was busted playing games, the teacher turned off his PC to which he responded, “You’re a f*****g prick, sir”. A totally disrespectful statement that hardly warranted the “sir” part, but it had become so entrenched in our culture that it had no meaning.
It was just a thing we did.
I fear this is what happens when causes become so lackadaisical that one believes that merely punting it on social media will shift the zeitgeist. In some respects, it works. Some of my friends have told me that they found strength in the #MenAreTrash movement to speak out about their experiences. In others, it hasn’t.
One only needs to think of the array of available answers to solve for X in the equation #JusticeForX to realize how many times we’ve been through this and it hasn’t stopped much.
If you want clear examples of the desensitized value of justice seeking social media campaigns, follow the hashtag #JusticeForNaledi and from it, you’ll find some giveaways to gain followers, a rap artist promoting his next EP, classic victim blaming instructions for women to leave a man who slaps them, and an accusation that Xhosa men are the worst perpetrators. Honestly, none of that seems like justice for anybody let along Naledi, Elijah, Jayde, Franziska, Nene… I needn’t go on.
The complacency that we appear to be protesting each time seems to be trickling into the protest itself. In law, if a crime carries no sanction, the lack of regulatory teeth effectively voids the crime. Similarly in protest, if the protest carries no effect, is it to be considered a protest at all?
One may claim that the effect is awareness and to a large degree that is a tremendous effect. However, if you are protesting a fact that most are aware of, does it have the same effect? I’m pretty certain perpetrators of GBV are aware that people are protesting their actions yet they do it anyway and seemingly more so now than ever.
The combination of a generation merely reading the headlines, consigning themselves to debate using catchy memes and single line putdowns has opened the doors to create a context that is based on singular experiences pertaining to individuals, because the only reason one should seemingly care about the collective is when the collective pertains to your individual need.
This is why Black Lives Matter and All Lives Matter talk past one another. This is why silly false equivalency arguments like those comparing the two to Breast Cancer Awareness vs All Cancers Matter are given expression from otherwise rational people. This is why people have been allowed to express false truths justified only by their quotient of rage, be it sincere or made up.
While protesters in various campaigns of today are quick to highlight internal issues of misogyny, shutting out and structural imbalances, one that they often refuse to acknowledge is that of complacency.
If the function of protest is to create awareness and it does that, job well done. If however, the awareness is already there and you wish to create change, it is not unreasonable to ask whether another hashtag will do the trick especially if it risks making your cause just another collection of statistics.
Having the voice of the privileged, I understand my voice is often unwelcome and I’ve been told this many times.
Whether it’s my voice saying it or those of others, surely what we can and should agree on is that if we want to run a campaign against gender based violence, we want it to be effective and in order for that to happen, we may need to relook at how we go about it.
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