Reclaiming the L-Word: Sappho's Daughters out in Africa

Who are you to tell me who I am?

2,)(:,),;6(5, This story is one of the “I” Stories produced by the Gender Link Opinion and Commentary Service for the Sixteen Days of Activism on Gender Violence, held in November, 2009. On the first of the sixteen days women who had decided to break the silence headed a march through Hillbrow to Constitution Hill in Johannesburg, where a rally was held. Twenty women wrote stories about their experiences of gender violence in an attempt to reclaim the lives which have suffered so much, and to demand their right to safety at all times of the day and night.  >/6(9,@6/60(4& 2,)(:,),;6(5, On the 7 March 2004 when I was seventeen years old I started hating all men. It took one man to make me hate all men. I hated him so much. The only thing I could think of was killing him. On that night I made a promise to myself that I’d never associate myself with any other man. I blamed myself. The thought of him on top of me, unable to defend myself, made facing tomorrow impossible. I saw no hope and lost faith. My dreams were shattered, and the freedom to say “I am me” was lost. Kingsley1 and I were friends, more like a brother and sister. I was on my way from the Forum for the Empowerment of Women (FEW) offices, where I attended life-skills and computer training, when I first met him. He introduced himself as a gay man, but not many people knew about his sexuality, so he said. He warned me not to tell anybody, especially his friends because he was not “out” to everyone. We’d spend most of our days together if I was not with my girlfriend or my other friends, and it would feel odd if a day passed without us seeing each other. One evening we went out to a “club” near his home. It was nice there because I met some of my friends from high school. I started dancing with other people and was really enjoying myself until suddenly his mood changed. He complained that I was spending too much time with other people and I didn’t want to upset him, so I sat with him. It got really late, and I had the only key for the house so I insisted on going home. It was a bit chilly and he wanted to get something warm to wear; we went to his place since it was close by. I went to the outside toilet and I thought he was getting a jacket. He was standing right in front of the toilet. I was shocked to see him. He did not look happy, so I asked him what was wrong. He did not 1 Not his real name.  2,)(:,),;6(5, reply, but he went to his room and I followed him in the hope of finding out. That was the worst mistake I ever made. I got a bit tense when he started giving me the “you make me sick” look. He locked the door. I was really confused as he was swearing at me and saying how much he hated people who pretend. I then asked him what he was talking about. He was furious with the lesbian life I was living. He said that I should stop taking other people’s girlfriends, and that I was beautiful and capable of getting myself a boyfriend. I got angry and started arguing back. He slapped me on the face, and warned me not to shout at him or I would regret it. He said: “Tonight I’m going to change you, and from now on you are my girlfriend.” I got angry and told him that I knew my rights. I started to leave. He got up holding a screwdriver and threatened to stab me if I didn’t cooperate. I became quiet, trying to calm him down and think of a way to leave his place without anyone getting hurt. He ordered me to take off my clothes while he hit me with anything he came across. No matter how hard I cried or how loud I screamed, he told me it wouldn’t help because he was not scared of anyone or anything. He punched me and I thought he was going to kill me if I fought back. He...