Abstract
Rights and reality come into conflict for South African gay community, says
Discussing lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered, intersex and queer rights (LGBTI) in South Africa is deeply contradictory. On the one hand, the country boasts some of the most progressive LGBTI rights in the world – from its constitution, protecting people from discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation, to legalised same sex unions. Cape Town is a popular holiday destination for the international LGBTI community, as well as being the centre for the “pink rand”. In fact South Africa leads on the African continent when it comes to LGBTI rights.
But this idyllic picture is just one side of the coin: on the flipside, South Africa is nonetheless a very dangerous place for those who identify as LGBTI. Particularly vulnerable are black lesbians, because, in South Africa, black women tend to be victims of crime more than any other group, and because black lesbian sexuality is considered to be an affront to disenfranchised, angry men of the country’s townships. These women are frequently raped, often by gangs of men, and their murders tend to be brutal – in one recent case on Johannesburg’s East Rand a 25-year-old woman, Duduzile Zozo, was found dead in a neighbour’s garden with a toilet brush shoved into her vagina.
Gay men are also targeted. A spate of murders in Johannesburg, Durban and more recently, Cape Town, has drawn attention to the vulnerability of middle-aged, mostly white gay men who are killed and robbed in their own homes. There is much speculation in the local media as to whether these are hate crimes or the work of a syndicate of robbers who kill their victims to dispose of any witnesses.
Homosexuality is often decried by South African religious and traditional leaders as “unholy” or “unAfrican”. This, combined with a dearth of political will to really tackle hate crimes linked to sexuality, means the progressive laws in place in South Africa are often little more than paper tigers in many sections of society.
A group of LGBTI activists stepped into the vacuum – and went about canvassing community opinions in a modern and fascinating way
So, which spaces are opening up for LGBTI men and women and those who identify as intersex or queer in a country whose attitude teeters between progressive and deeply hostile? The answer lies, at least in part, online. The 2012 Johannesburg Pride march was marred by clashes between the white, middle-class crowd that traditionally attends this event and a small but vocal group of predominantly black women activists who were determined to draw attention to the murder of black lesbians.
ABOVE: Tussles for control of the Johannesburg Pride parade took place last year
Credit: Reuters/Siphiwe Sibeko
Just over half of those who could access the internet do so using their mobile phones, Statistics SA reported
A video of Pride participants – members of the organising committee – angrily and aggressively confronting the activists, was uploaded onto YouTube; people tweeted about the clashes and the story made national headlines. Not long afterwards, it emerged that the existing Johannesburg Pride committee was disbanding. A group of LGBTI activists stepped into the vacuum – and went about canvassing community opinions in a modern and fascinating way. They set up a Facebook page, encouraged people to offer their ideas about how a new and re-imagined Pride could be set up and run, and then held public meetings at which these suggestions were discussed. The new committee has now established an official Johannesburg Pride Facebook page and website, where they explain that the new event will highlight the juxtaposition of South Africa’s progressive values with its deeply hostile reality.
The Johannesburg Pride example suggests that the internet offers a democratic space in which different voices and views can step into debates they have not previously been able to access. But there are flaws inherent in this approach. One young man I spoke to, who followed the debates on the original Facebook page and attended several community meetings about the event, said he had always thought of the internet and social media as completely democratic spaces. When he got involved in this process, though, his attitude shifted. He identified access as a huge obstacle to really diversifying online spaces. “In almost every case … you’ll find that access to these opportunities and possibilities is constrained by things like race and class,” he told me in a Facebook chat.
Indeed, access to the internet, while on the increase in South Africa, is still minimal. The most recent Census data, released in November last year, revealed that less than half of South African households have access to the internet. The majority of those who could access the internet (and 35.2% have web access in South Africa) did so using their mobile phones, Statistics SA reported.
There’s another problem, too, in a country like South Africa. Its Gini coefficient – the most commonly used measure of income inequality – is among the highest in the world, marking it out as a deeply unequal society. And if “real life” spaces are dominated by largely white, middle-class men and (to a lesser extent) women, why should things be any different online?
There’s also the issue of silencing, whether it be direct or indirect. According to the activist I spoke to on Facebook, censorship and self-censorship come into play “because of the extent of your social capital, your perceived level of education (read: whiteness) and a whole lot of other things tied to the material and structural realities of this country,” he wrote.
During the online discussion before the new Pride structure was established, as well as at subsequent community meetings, he noticed that some black men and women did not feel comfortable contributing their thoughts or ideas. This wasn’t just because they didn’t believe their spoken or written English was “good enough” for the more vocal members of the group. Instead, it was the historical disadvantage that plays out every day in South Africa moving into new spaces – those who spoke “well”, or perhaps just loudest, dominated the discussion.
Despite these challenges, it seems likely that online spaces will come to be occupied more frequently by more the marginalised members of the greater LGBTI community. Government control of the internet in South Africa is minimal, so the country does not face the same restrictions on freedom of expression and association as is the case in some neighbouring states.
And, despite new media transforming too slowly for many people’s liking, some sites – particularly blogs – may provide a safe space for those who wish to draw attention to underreported issues concerning the LGBTI community. One example is photographer and activist Zanele Muholi’s blog, Inkanyiso, which documents the stories of black lesbians who have been the victims of “corrective” rape, designed to “cure” them of their sexuality. Here, women are able to tell their stories in a safe and supportive space – an excellent example of how powerful the internet can be for LGBTI people in South Africa.
