Violence against women is a men's issue

Content warning: the following post discusses male violence (including sexual violence) against women.

It’s Safer Campus Community Week, a chance to reflect on the University of Adelaide’s commitment to providing a safe and respectful environment for its students.

Unfortunately, in the wake of two recent events which have sparked global outrage, I am left wondering how we can hope to create a safe and respectful environment at a time when we are experiencing a global epidemic of violence against one of our most vulnerable groups: women.

33-year-old Sarah Everard disappeared on March 3, while walking home from a friend’s house in South London.

Two days later, on the other side of the world, in Adelaide, 21-year-old Jasmeen Kaur disappeared after finishing a shift at the aged care centre where she worked.

On the one hand, you could say that these events bear little resemblance: Ms Everard was in her 30s, Ms Kaur in her 20s; Ms Everard was walking down the street at the time of her abduction; Ms Kaur was in a carpark; Ms Everard’s body was found in a woodland area in Kent, approximately 90 kilometres south-east of London, Ms Kaur’s body was found in a shallow grave at Flinders Ranges; the man charged with Ms Everard’s alleged murder is 48 year's old (and a police constable); the man charged with Ms Kaur’s alleged murder is just 20. 

But there is one important truth at the centre of both stories: the victims are women, and their deaths are at the hands of men.

These stories are yet another reminder of the universal fear that women share. We might also call it a fear of the unknown – fear of what lurks in the dark and in the footsteps behind us. It’s the same fear we’ve been living with all of our lives, since our parents and teachers told us to never speak to strangers or approach a car we don’t recognise. Fear of the unknown, fear of the stranger – it’s all the same thing: fear of men.

From a young age, women are given tips on how to protect ourselves from male predators, both in and outside of the home: wear your hair down, wear flat shoes, hold onto your keys, don’t take the shortcut, don’t walk at night, lock your doors, scream, kick as hard as you can, run, run, run. These words have shaped our existence, our ability to trust, our ability to be carefree, to live without a shadow; a constant, invisible presence hanging from our coattails.

I sometimes wonder how men see women: the men who walk past us on a quiet street, who drive our Ubers and taxis, who serve us at a bar, who stand behind us in a lift, who wait at the same train station, who drive alongside us. Perhaps some of them go to efforts to indicate that they pose no threat, though I expect most of them don’t even think about it.

And after all, why should they? Too often, the traumatic experiences that women share in an attempt to make people care are deemed as being a “women’s issue”; it’s our problem to endure and to solve. However, Chris Hemmings, a journalist, author, and activist, recently appeared on BBC News to argue that, to create meaningful change, we need to reframe the discussion as one that is not about women, it's about men. 

Of course, not all men rape women. For the most part, the problem is less about the individual and more about “the collective socialisation of men that has led to some men becoming predatory and harmful to women.” Nonetheless, we have to accept that, in Australia, 97% of sexual offences are committed by men, and that, on average, a woman is killed each week by an intimate male partner.

So, sure, says Hemmings, it’s not all men, “but more often than not it is a man that is perpetrating these crimes.” Therefore, “it’s about what we, as men, can do to prevent our brothers from ending up as one of those awful statistics.”

In Hemmings’ view, the solution is clear: “we have to start instilling empathy into young men early,” he says, “because we know there is an empathy gap between boys and girls by age of 13 or 14.”

It's a slow process, and ultimately, not one that women can achieve alone. It's time for men—our brothers, fathers, partners, friends, teachers, and colleagues—to step up. We'll be waiting. 

Resources

You can report an incident (to the University or the police) here.

Further support (including counselling) to help deal with an incident is available here.