So Felleng just has to come and gate-crash the discussion some of us get going the next day.
We’re sitting on plastic chairs in this small room between the kitchen and our lecture room. It’s where some of us go between classes, to relax or to eat and drink whatever we’ve brought to get us through the day.
Felleng and Jarvis usually go out to some café as they’ve always got money, so we’re not expecting them to appear and drag forward two extra chairs.
“Heard you were having a meeting. This looks interesting,” Felleng says, but there’s mockery in his voice and disrespect in the way he looks at Baleka.
And disrespect and something else in the way he looks at Celi. I feel sick.
“It’s serious,” Baleka says.
“We agreed, us girls, that we’d start by telling you about Madira,” Celi begins, but then she stops, with this look of acute distress, and it’s obvious she can’t go on.
Phumeza tries to speak, only she starts crying.
“Madira was raped.” Baleka is the one to say it.
Celi shakes her head, moving over to give Phumeza a hug. “No Baleka, don’t say it that way, passive voice, like it’s just something that simply happened to Madira. Someone did it to her, so say it that way. Someone, a man, raped Madira.”
Raped. You hear the word, you read it, every day, in news reports or on social media. It’s ugly and it always brings a bad feeling. When someone says it in connection with someone you know, someone you greet every day and cook with, it’s like a brick hitting your head and a knife scraping your heart.
“A man Madira knew did it,” Phumeza sobs. “He beat her too.”
“But what was she doing?” Jarvis asks.
“Seriously, Jarvis?” There’s fire in Baleka’s voice.
“Yes, you see, what you girls need to understand about rape, is this–” Felleng starts out, but all the girls are protesting.
“No, you don’t get to explain rape to us.” Celi speaks so calmly and clearly, but anger and pain are twisting her face.
“Jeez!” Felleng laughs. “I just wanted to give you ladies some advice on how to stay safe and not get yourselves raped.”
There’s a silence so full of feeling, I think there’s going to be some sort of explosion.
“You can’t talk like that, Felleng,” I mutter, ashamed of what he said. “As if girls … women … as if they’re responsible.”
“And why is it on us to stay safe, may I ask?” Baleka demands.
“It’s on you men,” Celi backs her up. “Like, maybe if you stopped hurting us?”
“Yebo, and protected you instead,” I say.
She smiles at me, a shaky half-smile. “We don’t even want you to protect us, Aviwe. We just want you to stop.”
“Stop. Hurting. Us.” Ratu claps for each word, in case any of us don’t get it.
The trouble is, I don’t think all of us do get it.
“Spare me.” Felleng is pushing back his chair and standing up. “Getting boring. Angry feminist bitches trying to tell men how to behave. I’m out of here.”
“This is pointless.” Baleka is furious, also standing up as Felleng and Jarvis swagger out of the room.
Celi and I look at each other.
“That went well,” she jokes, but there’s a wobble in her voice and her eyes are very bright, as if she’s about to cry.
***
Tell us what you think: Why is it so difficult for men like Felleng to understand women’s feelings about issues like rape?