Our beautiful Constitution cannot shield us from clenched fists and the determined phallus. We are not rocks, Mr President. Though our spirits may be indomitable, our bodies bruise when struck.
Dear Mr President,
Today, I woke up to a broken South Africa. Headline after headline roared a bitter truth, one that the patriot heart must reckon with. From the sprawling townships to suburbia... it is clear... We are at war!
Mr President, you may not realise it. You may even accuse me of being an alarmist. Your eyes, like those of your compatriots, are still fixed on the glorious rise of our fledgling democracy. Its shine has blinded you from the darkness that simmers beneath the surface. Do you remember, Sir, the days of the Struggle, when the collective goal was the emancipation of our people? Do you remember the blood that was shed in the name of freedom? Well, today, the blood of my sisters cries out from this hallowed ground. The women of this country have been betrayed.
It seems as if our fierce battle against apartheid was only to free the black man. Democracy gave women nothing more than well-written policies, redundant campaigns and token months. Our...