Men who stand by are guilty, too

Not all men are like that, I know, but I wonder…

I wonder why I get a tearful midnight call from a young lady who said no, loud and clear – “I lost count, maybe 15 times” – to a man who first bumped and grinded her on the dance floor, then stuck his tongue in her mouth, then licked her neck, ears, face over and over and over, his hands never leaving her body.

To the point that she fled first to the bathroom, then in a taxi to her safe place: home.

And there she broke down – and I got the call.

Her sin? She went out on her own. No friends, male or female, were invited.

“I thought I’d be safe. It’s our local drinking hole. I know all the regulars; and they know I’m Migs’ girl, we’re always together.”

But Migs was clubbing that Friday away in another town and all she wanted was to put the week behind her with some fun and laughter.

But fun it wasn’t – and who’s laughing?

The men she knew – three of them – and tapped on the shoulder that night asking them to help a girl out?

They knew what was going down, they saw her violation with their own eyes, but they did… nothing.

So, not all men are like that? Well, sir, if a girl who is sexually harassed asks for your help and you turn a blind eye, you are, in my eyes, no better than the would-be rapist – and I have no doubt if she stayed longer that is exactly what would have happened.

It’s the why that worries me. Why didn’t you help? Not your problem?

But it is. Because your failure to step up, means you condone men violating women. Your failure means women on this darkest tip of Africa will stay entrenched in this culture of victims. Your failure means we can’t ever go out alone because we are, quite simply, not safe – anywhere.

Even the pubs know you’ll keep your distance. They have a “buddy system” behind their loo doors.

“Need help? Just ask the barman for a blue marguerita.”

The young one has now learnt the secret us oldies have known for years: don’t trust a man, any man – especially you with your folded arms.