This is a grand week for rhetoric and red tape — the red ribbon for Aids and the white ribbon for the 16 Days of Activism for no violence against women and children.
I stopped subscribing to and putting on the red ribbon in 1997 after discovering my political identity as a woman living with HIV.
The following year, I decided not to attend any World Aids Day events. I had seen so many memorial candles by this time, had received so many high-profile hugs, and could sing the rules of positive living without being able to practise any of them.
Women were still dying from Aids and violence. I did not see any women benefit from eating healthily, exercising and using condoms at all times. The fact is that HIV-positive women cannot do anything meaningful without resources and power.
HIV-positive women were still being raped and serving as junior project coordinators, secretaries and administrators in the HIV/Aids lobby and as positive living ambassadors, all preaching a public health-inspired lifestyle that is not practical, attainable or realistic. Some women were doing home-based Aids care, tough unpaid work that is not and will never be counted.
That was also the year in which Aids activist Gugu Dlamini was murdered in Durban because she was open about her HIV-positive status — a direct casualty of a positive-living campaign gone wrong.
We agree that South Africa is a grossly violent society. We also agree that there is a relationship between violence against women and HIV infection.
But we also assume that the violence fades away once a woman is infected with HIV. Look no further than pre-exposure prophylaxis and all rape support services: clearly, rape ceases to be rape as soon as we disclose our HIV-positive status or test positive. The rape support ends right there.
I heard on the radio this week that the minister of women, disabled persons and everything else had announced that rape survivors (HIV-negative women, I assumed) should claim their right to know the status of the rapist. A noble political articulation indeed.
I eagerly waited for the report to talk about what HIV-positive women who are raped should do, but to no avail. Should they claim their right to know the status of the rapist or feel guilty that they might have infected someone? What should they do? Go home and eat well? Stay positive about themselves?
I quickly retreated to my human rights cave. As I was kick-boxing in the gym, I thought: what about the rapist’s consent, choice, counselling and dignity? Then I thought, ‘Mhhh, fine, they are (alleged) rapists anyway.” But what if that gets imposed on other marginalised groups?
Actually, it is being imposed elsewhere: on pregnant women. They are forcibly tested for HIV, just as the minister proposes rapists should be.
I asked myself: could this be a way of punishing the rapist, some sort of pre-sentence correction or punishment or exclusion? But pregnant women should not be the only ones to face this humiliation, because they are pregnant and look risky (poor and black, I mean).
I thought; which position should one take here? I am still processing this in my head.
As I continued to consider this issue, I noted that there was some difference — women can apparently opt out of an HIV test.
However, opting out can only be a reality for women if healthcare centres are no longer the centres of powerlessness highlighted by the Gender Aids Forum’s research in 2004.
Do women have the power to opt out? If so, why are we testing so many women? Is persuasive counselling paying off or are business models really changing the Aids world, with the numbers of people who are taking the test each day representing a form of productivity economics.
Is there perhaps coercion? Are we manipulating the vulnerability of women that we claim leads to HIV infection? Why are we perpetuating this vulnerability? Are we really empowering pregnant women by testing them for HIV in pregnancy?
A woman who does not have HIV or is not tested is vulnerable, poor and has difficulty negotiating for her survival. For some reason, in the eyes of Aids programmes if you make an HIV diagnosis a woman suddenly has the power to make decisions, to protect, refuse, act, take charge.
An HIV diagnosis is an amazing instrument! I wonder why we are not adopting it as a women empowerment tool!
It apparently gives power to women to challenge healthcare workers and negotiate safer sex after successfully disclosing their HIV status. It apparently gives them power to challenge and stop violence from their male partners and their families and society — structural violence and legislated violence.
HIV apparently gives women the power to challenge and stop rape. Remember, women lack this power before the HIV diagnosis; our HIV programmes apparently think that it comes with being diagnosed.
In short, I am deeply concerned about programmes that assume that HIV-positive women have power.
An HIV diagnosis does not give you power, it puts you in a worse position. You are the same woman, but more vulnerable, more marginal and violence-prone, with little hope of redress or community solidarity.
So I really beg kind managers to consider such things when they design their noble programmes. Is forced testing in pregnancy not structural violence against women?
Some Aids evangelists refuse to listen to the experiences of women living with HIV who face more violence and are having difficulty in challenging and seeking redress for violence because of their HIV status.
Let us reflect and learn as we continue to tot up the number of World Aids Day events we attend.
Promise Mthembu is a women’s rights advocate, researcher and consultant