My father the ‘sex pest’

‘I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.” — Audre Lorde

A few weeks ago, the woman who had falsely accused my father, Mavuso ­Msimang, of sexually harassing her almost two years ago withdrew her case against him. It was a hollow victory.

The withdrawal per se was an anticlimax. As a family, we were hoping the case would go to court, so that we could get justice, in addition to peace. But my father is tired of fighting, tired of answering questions about a fictitious incident, and so we agreed with him that it was best to let her drop the charges.

I am all too aware that, on the one hand, I write this as the daughter of this man and, on the other, I write it as a women’s rights activist who has written on gender issues and will continue to do so. Yet reflecting on the process is important to me. Indeed, it matters to me so much that I suppose I am willing to risk having what I say ‘bruised” and ‘misunderstood” by friends and colleagues in the women’s rights sector.

The headlines that hit the papers several months ago were painful for all of us. Just as we were proud of his new appointment as director general of home affairs, we were faced with these shameful allegations — again. An old story was rehashed and given a new spin. The response of the press (with the notable exception of the Mail & Guardian, ‘Can home affairs be saved?” May 28) and of many women’s rights activists was saddening. Yet it was not surprising. Indeed, in the past I may have been just as guilty of jumping to conclusions.

In fact, let me begin with a mea culpa: if the story were not about my father, I doubt that I would be writing about this at all. After all, I am usually on the other side of the fence. I am unashamed of my feminist politics. I come from a family of strong women. In our nuclear family, women outnumber men four to one. There are no male siblings, just three headstrong girls, an equally headstrong mother and a headstrong father who raised us to be his equals and has never been intimidated by his wife’s strength.

In hindsight, I realise that we grew up oddly sheltered, not understanding until we were much older that some men hit women, that some women were scared to speak in their own homes, afraid of the particular ridicule and scorn that is the preserve of men — that way of talking down to women that American playwright Pearl Cleage has referred to as ‘man-tones”, a term that captures the way that men often unconsciously speak to women in a tone that diminishes us entirely, a condescension that is as old as patriarchy itself.

When my father told us that he had been accused of sexual harassment, we were all stunned. Those who knew him called and extended their sympathies. Personal friends offered their support. Yet friends and acquaintances in the women’s sector stayed quiet. Not a word of empathy or acknowledgement was offered: he was guilty until proven innocent. Again, I wasn’t surprised at all. In fact, many times I have assumed a man guilty (given the ‘private” nature of crimes like this that are hard to prove and almost always virulently denied, and given the fact that their incidence is so commonplace). But of course, I was disappointed.

He was devastated, offended and outraged. The story was a simple one: he had called an employee to account for her behaviour. Frightened and cornered, she alleged sexual harassment. The stink from the allegations stuck to him because it is indeed an unacceptable crime. It clung even more after the new appointment.

Typically, in cases of sexual harassment in the workplace, I am on the woman’s side. I have said it as many times as any upstanding women’s rights activist: ‘The woman is always right.” Like many others, I have asked: ‘Why would she lie? What would she have to gain from dragging such humiliating acts into the public domain?” Yet as we struggle to come to terms with gender equality in our young democracy, it is clear that in some cases, some women have a lot to gain from false accusations.

As gender-based violence and sexual harassment become increasingly unacceptable at a public level, the old practice of sweeping these crimes under the rug is becoming less of a norm. There are now social consequences if men are abusive. This does not mean that men stop such behaviour. Indeed, the statistics demonstrate that despite the strides that have been made, violence against women remains consistently high. But there can be no doubt that public tolerance for abuse is diminishing. This is certainly a good thing. But the sad reality is that some people will always take advantage of changing values and progressive laws to further their own agendas.

In this instance, I happen to know the man (my father) and the woman (a former colleague of mine). I have no doubt that the allegations are false. And yes, of course, I am biased: he is my father, which is all the more reason why I believe him. I have known him always and I stand by his integrity.

But I am also a defender of the rights of women and the principles of equality on which our young nation is founded. I know that many men lie about matters such as this one. Had I not known the woman who accused him, had I not come into contact with her many years before she met my father, I may have hesitated (even if ever so slightly) before proclaiming his innocence. Knowing what I know, I have not even the shadow of a doubt.

Her reasons may be complex, but her claims are fabricated. And here is where the appeal to common sense becomes important. There are people whom your instinct tells you not to trust. This is not rational and scientific: it is a feeling at gut level. The woman who accused my father of sexually harassing her was one such person.

Her actions have pointed to a fact that many of us privately acknow-ledge even in the women’s movement: that there are cases in which innocent men are wrongly accused. This does not mean that the laws protecting women’s rights should be scrapped: they represent hard-won victories that have in-built protection measures precisely because women are too often accused of crying wolf, especially when it comes to matters of sexuality.

But the personal experience of watching my father’s character smeared (once the stain is there it is incredibly difficult to rub off) has been a difficult one. He carried himself in the dignified manner that is his trademark, and I have been as proud of him in the past few months as I have ever been. Of course, the women in the family have felt incredibly angry at his accuser, not least because there is no shortage of men who have truly harassed, raped and killed women, who need to be brought to justice.

Clogging up the courts with spurious allegations is irresponsible at the very least; at worst such actions set back the fight for gender equality. This accuser and those like her undermine the credibility of the thousands of South African women who are brave enough to speak out about sexual harassment on a daily basis.

It sounds trite, but the truth is that just as there are men who lie about crimes committed against them for whatever reason, there are women who do the same. The reality is that in the vast majority of cases, women are telling the truth. Unfortunately, however, the women’s movement too often closes ranks when situations like this arise. We are quick to defend a victim, even when common sense tells us there is every chance that there is more to a woman’s story than meets the eye.

But there is no denying that for men in the public eye, even an unsubstantiated accusation of being a ‘sex pest”, as my father was called, makes headlines. It is unfortunate that the media frenzy that ensues is seldom matched by similar attention once the accused is vindicated. The story is not as juicy to the press, and more worryingly, it is even less appealing to the feminist sisterhood once the charges have been cleared. This has left a bitter taste in this particular feminist’s mouth.

Our commitment to gender equality should be matched by a commitment to justice and the truth — regardless of the side on which the truth happens to lie.

Sisonke Msimang is HIV and Aids programme manager, Open Society Initiative for Southern Africa. She writes in her personal capacity