Rape and violence against women is one of the most oppressive human rights violations, yet many nations are content to sweep it under the proverbial carpet as just another sexually motivated crime. In this specially commissioned essay, Vancouver-based freelance writer Fazeela Jiwa explores the inhumanity that characterizes rape and compares a woman's helplessness to fight back to a state that reneges on its responsibility to its citizens.The land on which we live, the elements of nature with which we intertwine our existence are often forgotten in the haze of obligation.
Many of us rarely pause amid our daily rush to praise the dewy air that kisses our throats, or to admire the shadowscapes that the land shades on itself to please the sun. It is no surprise to me, then, that we have even less time to listen when the land cries out in political devastation either.
Many countries in this world suffer from inept governing structures. We hear countless stories of politicians’ corruption and decadence at the expense of citizens’ welfare.
These countries echo the sentiment of ageless women, what all women experienced in life come to know: she is not in charge of this world.
She – the universal woman - is governed by others who have been endowed a position of greater power than her by virtue of their gender, and therefore also wield control over her. For some women, it is direct control: we are locked within the “sanctity” of man’s home, used as sexual and subservient birthing objects.
For others, it is indirect control: we are afraid to walk down streets alone at night or wear certain clothes for fear that we will be attacked, and if we are attacked, we know our clothes and behaviour will be questioned rather than the misdeeds of the anonymous attacker.
If we cannot spare the time to listen to the turmoil of the land that surrounds us in every moment, how are we to hear the pleas of the single mother in the isolated village?
The frequent personification of nations and countries as feminine is a convenient and apt metaphor.
The “motherland” is the land that births her citizens. She can be timeless and maternal; she can be young and fertile. In all respects she is strong, but can easily become vulnerable when exploited by those who seek power.
The worst violation that a female can experience is rape.
It is a myth that rape is about sex, or that strange men leap out of the bushes at night because they cannot control their lust. The truth is that, in most cases, the rapist is known to the victim, and is in a position of power over her.
Rape is a tool of coercion, violence, and power. It is a common form of violence against women, the most criminal in theory and the most admissible in practice. Retribution for a rape victim is difficult to attain for a myriad of reasons – a very low percentage of women report being attacked due to the incompetence and insensitivity with which most rape cases are handled by the authorities.
Millions of excuses masquerade as exceptions to the inviolable right to safety: alcohol consumption, marriage vows, past sexual behaviour, mental health records.
In revealing these things, a woman potentially faces a life of public shame, her private affairs dragged through the mud of the ensuing courtroom wrestling match should she report her rape to the authorities, so she chooses the life of private shame, forever concealing an expression of violent power, an utter violation of her mind, body, heart.
If we can entertain the metaphor of a country as female, then allow me to extend the metaphor: a country’s political devastation is akin to rape.
The power struggles between those who purport to govern the country wreak havoc among the lives of her children; they suffer from poor political management for the sake of the politician’s privilege.
Citizens have no recourse; they cannot turn to the state or its institutions for help, for the state’s interests do not align with those of the common folk, and the state’s police forces serve its interests. In the same vein, women who have experienced rape suffer from an oppression that stems from a power struggle.
In my life, I have observed many forms of oppression, which I can fit into three main categories: class, race, and gender. In each of these arenas of power struggle, the more privileged oppresses the less so in order to retain the position of privilege, having garnered it through status, wealth, color, or sex.
While these perceptions of inequality are all worthy of abhorrence, gender is the most pervasive forum for oppression.
Oppression based on gender affects more than half of the population of the world. It transcends class and race boundaries. Thus it is the most crucial to tackle, yet it is the most overlooked. The myth that gendered equality has been achieved, is yet another manifestation of the same oppression.
The women’s movement won a victory in securing the right to vote, but we did not win equality. We are still paid less for equal work (if we secure work at all from employers who are terrified that we will get pregnant or “overwhelmed”). There is no state sanctioned childcare available to us so that we can work for the lesser wage we receive, nor a guaranteed livable income to allow us to raise our children.
Conversely, there is an agency provided by the state that will criticize mothers who work several jobs for not spending time with their children. We suffer disproportionate poverty. Our complaints to the state and its authorities are largely ignored.
Prostitution is deemed a choice, but the trade is filled with trafficked, beaten, impoverished, illiterate mothers whose circumstances provide no choice at all.
No - women have not yet won the struggle for equality.
This is a farce that enables gendered oppression, providing the oppressor and the apathetic observer a justification for the actions they witness, creating a forum for “acceptable” manifestations of oppression, such as job discrimination or sexual harassment.
Countries that suffer from political power struggles that neglect and oppress the interests of her citizens are breeding grounds for crime and rape.
Just as the country whose cries for recognition and aid fall upon the deaf ears of the international community, so do the cries of her women.
In a country such as Trinidad and Tobago, whose climbing murder rates belie a sinister criminality, how can it be that the numbers of rape cases are virtually absent? If rape is the enduring and ultimate expression of violent oppression of woman by man, and is facilitated by incompetent and insensitive political governance, it does not make sense that rape simply does not occur.
Perhaps there is no agency that deems rape cases important enough to record, or perhaps women are not reporting their assaults, and for good reason: they know from years of collective experience that they will see only the ignorance of state institutions.
In the face of this helpless cycle, they suffer in the bosom of the country that is their parallel.
It is time to make time, to clear the haze of obligation and acknowledge the cries of our friends, mothers, sisters, daughters, aunties, grandmothers, and our land.
Fazeela Jiwa | Vancouver, BC, Canada - 17 Nov. 08
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