GBV is still regarded by many as a women’s issue or simply a family matter. Photo: File
In South Africa, gender-based violence (GBV) is as routine as the news cycle itself. Day after day, the headlines carry the weight of another woman or child assaulted, raped or murdered. Yet, instead of outrage leading to change, it often fades into silence. Like a haunting rhythm, the pattern repeats: a shocking story breaks, a hashtag trends, the country expresses horror. Uyinene Mrwetyana, Leighandre Jegels, Nontobeko Cele. And then, just as quickly, the public moves on. Until the next victim.
Nowhere is safe. Research has shown that women and children experience GBV in their homes, schools, workplaces, healthcare facilities and even churches. Violence stalks them in broad daylight, both in public spaces and behind closed doors. Leighandre Jegels was murdered by a police officer in broad daylight — the very person meant to protect her turned into her killer.
Uyinene Mrwetyana was raped and murdered inside a Post Office in Claremont, in the middle of the afternoon — a public space, where safety should have been guaranteed. Nontobeko Cele was murdered by her boyfriend, who later filmed a video of himself admitting to the killing and justifying taking her life.
Women do not fully enjoy their rights to freedom, privacy, human dignity or even to life. For example, as a safety precaution, women limit their freedom of movement and share their live location with others. They do everything “right” and yet that still does not guarantee safety.
The reality is that no amount of caution from women can prevent gender-based violence, because the problem does not lie with them, it lies with perpetrators and the systems that enable their actions. South Africa has not just normalised GBV, it has become desensitised to it.
The justice systems meant to protect women and children, from the police to the courts, remain slow, inconsistent and sometimes indifferent. Far from serving as safeguards, these structures frequently fail survivors and embolden perpetrators. Cases are delayed or dismissed, investigations are superficial and reporting violence often leads to further victimisation, rather than protection.
In this way, the very resources that should curb GBV instead perpetuate it, because they do not deliver justice or deterrence. The structural rot that enables GBV remains intact: inadequate policing, weak prosecution, insufficient support for survivors and a deeply patriarchal culture that continues to justify or excuse violence against women and children.
And for those who “survive” GBV, the effects are life changing. The consequences of this violence extend far beyond the physical. Survivors of GBV live with deep psychological wounds. Many suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety, emotional numbness and trauma bonding that traps them in cycles of abuse.
Children who witness or experience GBV are especially vulnerable. Research shows they are more likely to struggle with mental illness, behavioural issues, poor academic performance and to be perpetrators of violence. Exposure to verbal or physical abuse in childhood creates scars that can last a lifetime and, in many cases, are passed on to the next generation.
Yet GBV is still treated in many spaces as a “women’s” issue, or simply a “family matter”. It is none of these things. Calling GBV a women’s issue erases the fact that men are overwhelmingly the perpetrators and that society at large continues to embrace systems, cultures and traditions that enable violence against women and children. To dismiss it as bad luck ignores the patterns and structures that make South Africa one of the most dangerous places in the world for women and children.
Gender-based violence is not an individual misfortune; it is a systemic failure rooted in patriarchy, inequality and impunity. It is a national crisis that undermines public safety and violates fundamental human rights. It is everyone’s problem and until it is treated with the urgency and seriousness it demands, gender-based violence will remain a pervasive reality.
It starts with all of us: with communities that are alert and unafraid to speak out or intervene when they witness signs of abuse. It requires a justice system that acts swiftly to protect survivors and hold perpetrators accountable. It demands accessible mental health support that helps survivors to process the trauma they’ve endured and rebuild their lives. It demands healthcare that does not revictimise or retraumatise the survivors.
It calls for a media landscape that follows through, not just breaking headlines and trending hashtags, but sustained coverage that keeps pressure on institutions and amplifies survivor voices.
It requires the government to take proactive action.
And, above all, addressing GBV demands a society that stops normalising violence and starts demanding accountability at every level. Let us not wait for another Uyinene, another Leighandre, another Nontobeko to take a stand.
Lulama Madyaka is based in the Gender Justice programme at the Centre for Applied Legal Studies, Wits University.