I have vowed to speak up, for myself, for Uyinene, for Tshegofatso, Anene and all the other women who can no longer say: "It happened to me too."

Yes, I am an angry black woman, and my tired is TIRED!

I am tired.

I am tired of reading and writing stories about women who are killed.

I am tired of asking men to speak up and join us in conversations about gender-based violence (GBV).

I am tired of waiting for the government to do something.

I am tired of taking part in the Am I Next campaign and total shutdowns.

I am tired of constantly fighting never-ending battles.

In 1976, it was the Soweto Uprising, in 2015 it was Fees Must Fall, and in 2020 we are fighting for black lives and fighting against GBV.

In 2016 and 2019, I became a victim of GBV in two different relationships. In 2019, I suffered the abuse of a man who vowed to "create a safe and secure environment for all people in South Africa". Yes, a police officer.

When I think of Uyinene Mrwetyana, who was raped and killed when she innocently went to fetch a parcel at the post office, I can't help but think that it could've been me.

When I read about the brutal murders of Tshegofatso Pule, Anene Booysen, Karabo Mokoena and the thousands of women who died at the hands of men, I can't help but wonder what made some men so brutal.

During a moment of introspection, after finally gathering the courage to walk away from the last abusive relationship I had been in, I had a lot of questions.

Was it me? Did I trigger this? Was it something I said?

And the answer was: HECK NO!

In South Africa, the femicide (the murder of women on the basis of their gender) rate is five times higher than the global average.

I've come to realise that self-blame is normal when you have been betrayed by the one person who you chose to let in. However, society also tends to bend towards victim blaming.

I've always been a person who works hard, who is not afraid to speak her mind, and who is bold (I mean, that's what I was taught). I am the kind of person who will tell you something, whether you like it not, but will tell you anyway because it's the truth. 

When I hear some of my family members saying: "Well, you can't say that to a man" or ask: "What did she do to him?" I start to wonder if these statements play a role in perpetuating GBV.

As a society, we still have a lot to learn and should not be afraid of calling out men and women who encourage GBV.

In one of my recent daily rants about GBV, I spoke about how it would continue to be a thing for as long as men say: "Women kill men too," every time a woman is murdered.

One male responded that he would never support the fight against GBV nor would he support the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement without looking at the wider social issues that contribute to GBV and BLM, such as poverty and inequality, just to name a few.

Granted that there are underlying factors that contribute to GBV, if most men were to be of the same perception and chose to not take part in the fight against GBV, campaigns such as the Am I Next campaign and protests will continue to be futile.

Every voice makes a difference.

A few weeks ago, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that almost 80% of the females in my Twitter contacts had experienced a sexual assault of some sort. The hashtag was, "I was..." and you would comment with how old you were when you encountered the sexual assault.  

I watched as people shared their stories, too scared to say: "Me too."

However, I have vowed to speak up, for myself, for Uyinene, for Tshegofatso, Anene and all the other women who can no longer say: "It happened to me too."

-          Cebelihle Mthethwa is an intern reporter for News24