I’m sick of men hurting women; raping them, killing them, humiliating them, being disrespectful to them.
This is not a random thought. It was stirred by a seemingly innocuous thing that happened on my morning walk through my suburb this week that took my thinking down a road I’ve not been down before. Well, two things actually.
For context: I love the area where I live. The jacaranda trees peak in a gothic lancet arch across the wide avenues. A pale, wintry sun forces it way through the canopy creating filigree patterns on the asphalt.
The pavements are wide and manicured, each designed to suit the homeowner’s individual style: high maintenance iceberg roses; little-upkeep-needed ground covers or succulents.
Then there are those homeowners who care little for walkers or pedestrians in general, whose pavements are laid out with sharp hazardous rocks, forcing people like me to take our chances on the road.
I set out on this glorious morning, the air crisp and clear, the light sparkling like Champagne. The temperature was walking perfect; cool but not cold. Bracing.
My preferred route leads me down silent side streets to my neighbourhood park and, usually, my only companions are dog walkers and street security guards in Zozo huts. But this week, my suburb was a noisy hub of activity. For what feels like the umpteenth time, our pavements are being dug up. More fibre cables are being laid for a new service provider entering the arena.
Men and women in blue overalls, some with — many without — masks are digging trenches and filling back in the holes as they repair pavements to a semblance of their former selves. Down one of the side streets is a construction site where eight new townhouses are being built. Again, few men on the work teams were masked and while I found that infuriating, it was not what sparked my ire.
Wherever you find a gathering of workers — be it a building site, or a place where taxis conglomerate, or a workmen’s road crew — you will find a hastily set up “shop” selling sweets and sandwiches and (in the olden days) loose cigarettes. On bigger building sites where there are hundreds of itinerant workers you will find more elaborate kitchens. Alongside the sandwiches and sugary treats, gas stoves are used to brew coffee and cook hot food; deep-fried vetkoek, dumplings in stew, mince served on pap.
A young girl, no more than 16, was in charge of the makeshift pavement shop set up to feed the fibre-laying workmen. A labourer walked up to her and loudly said something that made the men laugh. The girl looked uncomfortable but smiled. She was silent.
She will face charges that accuse her of procuring young girls for her boyfriend, girls who were then farmed out for sex to powerful men in Epstein’s circle of friends
The man went around the counter she’d made out of a cardboard box and grabbed her — inappropriately. She looked embarrassed and a little distressed as she sidestepped and moved out of his reach. The men watching cheered as the mask-less youth lunged at the girl again and again.
She’s done this evasion dance before, I thought, but didn’t say anything. I wondered if it had ever gone further than that, whether she had been an unwilling victim.
Not 15 minutes later, I witnessed a repeat as I walked past the building site, only this time three young women received and had to fend off, unwanted touching.
It made me wonder: how do we change the behaviour of men like these, men who rely on their brawn to earn a living, who have little schooling, who base their behaviour on what they’ve seen their role models do, whose machismo excludes consideration for women.
How do we stem the tide of what has become known as “toxic masculinity”? How do we protect women? How do we stop the bullying, rape, gender-based violence and general unkindness to women and girls from men who resort to physical assault.
Where are the role models, I wondered out loud to myself.
And then I got home and turned on the TV in time watch “the leader of the free world”, US President Donald Trump wish Ghislaine Maxwell well. This woman is in jail, facing charges for enabling her one-time lover to lure minor girls for sex trafficking.
Her lover? The disgraced financier Jeffrey Epstein, who was friend to some of the most powerful men in the world, including the Queen’s favourite son, Prince Andrew, Bill Clinton — and, of course, Trump.
We should collectively hold our heads in our hands!
At a press conference called to discuss the coronavirus crisis that is devastating America (a pandemic that even now, Trump refuses to acknowledge as catastrophic) a journalist asked Trump about Maxwell’s recent arrest and whether he thought she would implicate some of those powerful men who’d formed part of Epstein’s social circle.
Trump’s answer was astonishing: “I don’t know — I haven’t really been following it too much. I just wish her well, frankly,” he said, adding: “I have met her numerous times over the years, especially since I lived in Palm Beach, and I guess they lived in Palm Beach. But I wish her well, whatever it is.”
He wishes her well? These words coming from the president about a woman who has been charged with, among other things, conspiracy to entice minors to travel to engage in illegal sex acts; conspiracy to transport minors with intent to engage in criminal sexual activity; transportation of a minor with intent to engage in criminal sexual activity; and perjury.
Basically, she will face charges that accuse her of procuring young girls for her boyfriend, girls who were then farmed out for sex to powerful men in Epstein’s circle of friends.
While it is true that Maxwell’s trial is a long way off — her case will be heard in July 2021 — she faces a jail sentence of up to 35 years if she is convicted on all counts. Epstein was arrested a year ago and killed himself in jail.
And, when asked, all the American president says is that he wishes her well?
Where are the role models, the men who stand up and rebuke men, like Trump, who are disrespectful to women? It has to incorporate men on building sites, and roadwork labourers and leaders of the free world and captains of industry…
It has to start somewhere.
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