When romance turns dark: Facing the reality of violence against women

I’m sure you’ve all seen the movie, but I’ve just finished reading a book called It Ends with Us by Colleen Hoover and prior to that, a thriller whose name escapes me. What disturbed me wasn’t the story itself, but how cynical I’ve become. In both, there is the “ideal man". The type we are told will sweep us off our feet and guarantee our happily-ever-after.

But now, whenever I read or watch about a romance, I find myself waiting. I wonder: when is he going to kill her?

Here in South Africa, we are right in the middle of the annual 16 Days of Activism for No Violence Against Women and Children. And I can’t help but ask myself: will any of this ever make a difference?

I have met dozens, maybe hundreds, of women who have been sexually abused or raped. I have met some men, too. But by far, the overwhelming majority of survivors are women and girls. 

The scale is so endemic that when yet another organisation protests against gender-based violence, many of us shrink from the headlines. We want to run away. We want to ignore it.

And yet, I have personally never met a man who I know, beyond any doubt, has committed such atrocities. In my wide circle, I should have come across at least one.

I recognise that this is an emotional, partial perspective. After reading the book mentioned above, I realise I don’t fully grasp how complicated the discussion is. But some things feel painfully obvious to me.

I take a strong stance against women who knowingly make false rape accusations. I believe they, like perpetrators, should be prosecuted. I believe justice must be equal: women who lie should face the full weight of the law if, indeed, they have never been abused. False allegations harm all victims; they deepen the doubt, the suspicion, the readiness to disbelieve.

Still, I don’t excuse the many who blame victims reflexively, especially when the victim is someone we love or recognise: a daughter, sister, mother, friend. It’s easier for some to protect the perpetrator, insult the victim, tell ourselves “boys will be boys," or invent excuses.

Let’s talk about consent another day. For now, in this column, let’s assume there was no consent. Because consent isn’t always obvious. It isn’t always remembered. But the long-term damage, psychological, emotional, spiritual, is what matters.

If you are one of those elusive individuals, thinking about abuse or assault, I want you to imagine the consequences. The irreversible damage. The lifelong scars. The guilt. The shame. The silence. Think of the child whose mind never heals. The woman who cannot look in the mirror the same way again.

I know I’m generalising. But from my observations, sadly, I am often right. Many women who battle their weight, or carry deep-seated shame, the trauma, the secrets, if not from one source, then another. Some have internalised the pain for decades.

I recently talked with one woman, desperate to lose weight. I suggested she might never succeed until she forgave herself, until she confronted the possibility she was abused as a child. She gasped. Then she cried. Eventually, she admitted she had been repeatedly attacked by someone she trusted. Someone very close. She said the abuse “felt wrong”. But also, terrifyingly physically pleasurable.

I told her: If you were attacked and your body responded with sexual arousal, that does not make you a slut. Not ever. It makes you human. It means your body reacted the way bodies are wired, even when the mind, heart and soul were screaming no. That shame belongs to the abuser, not the victim.

Men, too, are raped. Men, too, carry shame. And yet, we almost never talk about it. Every survivor of sexual violence, of abuse, of violation deserves to have their pain acknowledged, to have their humanity restored.

I have known women raped by fathers, brothers, uncles, “family friends,” step-relatives. Women who face their abuser daily because they cannot escape them. No wonder the damage cuts deep. Psychological, often permanent.

Sometimes I wish I could sit down with an abuser. Ask them: Do you believe of the storm you unleash? The lifelong prison sentence you sentence your victim to. Do you sleep at night? Do you feel remorse? Or are you so broken, so warped, that you cannot even see the wreckage you leave behind?

Even when a perpetrator is known, when families know too often they protect him. They excuse him. They gaslight the victim. They preserve the lie because it feels more comfortable. Because “he pays the rent.” Because “don’t rock the boat.” Because “family.”

How many parents willingly offer their children to predators? How many mothers refuse to see the monster living under their own roof?

I don’t know. Maybe some are psychopaths. Maybe some have no empathy. But even then - how many monsters does a society need before good men start asking hard questions?

If you have been raped or abused, and your body betrayed you, know this: the shame is not yours. Not ever. Forgive yourself. Heal if you can. Speak if you’re ready. You are more than the trauma you endure.

If you are an abuser, a rapist, a molester, know this: the damage you inflict is a life sentence. For your victim. May your own joy and humanity wither under the weight of your crime. May you be haunted, until your dying breath by the innocence you destroyed.

A sobering national context

To place this in perspective: recent data shows that violence against women and girls in South Africa remains catastrophic. According to a 2024 report by the Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC), roughly one in three women has experienced physical intimate-partner violence in her lifetime. SAnews

The same report estimates that nearly 36% of women over 18 have experienced either physical or sexual violence in their lives. Amnesty South Africa

Between April 2023 and March 2024, the statistics paint a harrowing picture: 42 569 reported rape cases nationwide - with actual numbers likely far higher since it is widely believed that up to 95% of rapes go unreported. IOL

Equally shocking: in that same period the number of women murdered rose to 5 578 — a dramatic increase in femicide, up 33.8% compared to the previous year. IOL

These are not abstract numbers. They represent daughters, sisters, mothers - some of them, maybe, women we know. Women like you. Women like me.