The Will to Change, Learning to Love in a Wounded South Africa

South Africa’s struggle with gender-based violence reveals a deeper cultural fracture — one rooted in patriarchy, emotional repression, and generations of unspoken pain.

I hope to provide a perspective — one that is not right or wrong but rather a question and probe into what is the way forward for South Africa after another protest about gender-based violence. What collectively can society do to show that there is the will to change?

Throughout social media, the Women for Change “Shutdown G20 March” on the 21st of November continues to grow in popularity. Many South Africans, especially women, are tired of the failure that the South African system and government have caused — failures that have allowed perpetrators to go free, cases not to be taken seriously enough, and a lack of culture to show that there is action being taken.

This initiative is a great one, as it further asks the question of what the government is doing to fix the system. However, I do believe it still does not ask the question: how do we actively alter the cultures and spaces that allow for both men and women to recognise that there are victims in a system? Both are victims that are as responsible for maintaining the patriarchy that a multitude of boys are developed in, and are responsible for deconstructing that culture — more than just through a social protest.

The reality of the situation is that South Africa has had its match — from 2019 with Uyinene, to early this year with Cwecwe, to the endless protests of both named and unnamed victims. The situation has not improved. The stories that have come out have only affirmed the failure of our system, but similarly, even though it is not discussed, the failure of our collective societal culture, independent of gender.

Evidently, looking at the South African story, many young men who commit these crimes grew up in homes that socialised them to be patriarchal — to be the man of the house and to be the provider. Not only in dual-parent households but also in single-parent households where the only person of input is the mother.

Both men in society, who socialise amongst one another and with their families, strip themselves of their need to be intimate, to care for the other person, and to be vulnerable because of the perception that vulnerability is weakness. The idea that love itself is harmful has meant that not only have they been unable to love, but also unable to receive love.

In the worst-case scenarios, when the patriarchy that benefits some men more than others fails to reap the “rewards” believed to come with “being a real man,” society does not do enough to show these men that there is no such thing. Moreover, there is little discussion and real unpacking of what it means to be masculine in a world absent of the dominator model, provider model, and ideas deemed to affirm masculinity.

I truly intend to extend this even to social relationships. The common criticism or thought is that men are placed in a constant battle of receiving the approval of their partner through the affirmation of their work and manhood. Colloquially, it is expressed as “a real man would…” — indicating that, absent that action, your masculinity is of lesser extent to a “real man.” This reaffirms the need to both appear and act a certain way in public — you need to be seen manifesting whatever is deemed “real man” energy.

Even friends — men who claim to be progressive and even some feminists — are still unable to access their feelings. Not only to stand in solidarity with women but to truly empathise with their struggle. To be a person who is willing to listen openly, accept critique, and apply it in ways that lead to lasting change.

The reality is that, yes, the state is horrible at dealing with these cases, but it is the culture in which both men and women are socialised that truly molds the understanding of many of these boys and men in society.

In saying that, I go on to say this: this need not be just a conversation that happens when the government seeks to show itself on the international stage. This needs to be a committed space in which there is willingness to build spaces and institutions for everyone to be heard and listened to.

Absent listening, the world gets more extreme. Already the world has felt the effects — and to some extent is still feeling the effects — of the return of hypermasculine men such as Andrew Tate and Donald Trump, who constantly stand as light bearers for men who feel as though they lack community and space to truly express both themselves and their feelings.

Similarly, there has been a push by some activists to move towards isolationism and denouncing men and their existence because they have benefitted from the patriarchy for so long. Thus, being unable and unwilling to hear instances that the same culture that was meant to benefit them could have harmed them — and that maybe men are victims of patriarchy too — and that it may not be the same across race, class, and gender, is also an extremely important discussion.

These conversations take time. They take being willing to listen to each other — being willing to listen to people that you do not agree with and to understand their perspective. Not ascribing value at the onset on whether it is good or bad, but challenging the notion that thought and people will go unchanged.

In that same vein, it would be a disservice if, collectively as a country, we were to partake in the conversation and underwrite the reality of women — the pain they have gone through and how badly the situation has worsened over the years. That means being willing to take accountability for the role you played.

But this cannot just be a conversation. There needs to be a place where men can speak openly and women can speak openly about their experiences — where there can be an actual long-term dissection into what patriarchy has done to all of us collectively. Whether it be in gender roles, the application of oppression, or the failed narrative that promised much but delivered little. We need to be willing to do the hard work that forces us to unpack the nuance and not dismiss it.

The reality is that it has felt as though South Africa has been embattled with itself — with its government and with each other. The cycle continues of failed systems and more protests, but the will to change is not something that we all collectively buy into.

After this protest, once all the dust settles and society returns to regular programming, collectively there needs to be a calling out of not only the formal system — being the government — but the social one. That callout is not to identify another issue, but to find solutions collectively, together.

The reality is that everyone has been hurt by the system. Everyone’s pain ought to be acknowledged if we are ever to get to a place of love. It will need a great deal of forgiveness for the past to embark on a journey where love and the unwillingness to accept the oppression of anyone — regardless of race, gender, creed, or sexuality — is a belief held by everyone, independent of what they believe.

I truly think we need to learn to love again. Men need to learn how to access their emotions and get rid of their need to be seen as strong, allowing space for vulnerability — first with themselves, then with their community and family.

There needs to be a redefining of what it truly means to be masculine — a willingness to forgo being seen as the person inherently atop a hierarchy but rather as a person who is part of the community. A place where the pain and suffering of anyone would lead to action.

A place where the silence imposed on your emotions and environment is broken. A place where, if you are to speak about your pain, it is validated and listened to — that allows for self-reflection and hopefully correction.

More importantly, I think collectively, as a whole, we need time, love, and forgiveness to undo what years of patriarchy — that has gone unchecked, untested, and unspoken about in the deepest corners of South Africa — have resulted in for the country as a whole.

Our country is suffering, and it takes us to diagnose the problem and find a solution. That is not in a single protest but in prolonged, hard conversations that truly explore why and how we can find a new way for us to exist — to truly ask all of us: do we have the will to change?