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The Violence We Pretend Not to See
Gender-based violence does not erupt out of nowhere. It grows in silence, in indifference, and in the small moments that people choose to look away. It thrives in the shouted argument next door that nobody reports, in the bruised arm that friends politely ignore, in the controlling partner at a braai who snaps at his girlfriend and gets a round of sympathetic laughs instead of concern. GBV continues because society provides endless places for it to hide. Most people believe that gender-based violence is a problem “out there”, in dangerous neighbourhoods, in unstable families, in communities struggling with poverty. That belief is comforting because it reassures them that the problem does not live close to home. But the truth is that GBV exists in the homes of lawyers, pastors, doctors, business owners, teachers, and influencers. It thrives in gated estates, double-storey homes, beachfront apartments, and polished social-media feeds. It lives everywhere people refuse to acknowledge its existence.
The refusal to see is not innocence. It is complicity. Every time someone minimises a woman’s fear, dismisses her discomfort, or questions her story, they strengthen the abuser’s position. Violence does not need applause to grow, it only needs silence. The community’s unwillingness to listen becomes a shield for perpetrators. The victim’s isolation becomes the weapon. And by the time the world pays attention, the harm is already years deep, woven into a life unravelled behind closed doors.
The Cultural Norms That Protect Abusers
Gender-based violence is not simply an act of physical aggression, it is the result of gender scripts that have been repeated for generations. Men are raised with entitlement, authority, and social permission to dominate. Women are raised with obedience, patience, and cultural expectations to endure. These norms are so deeply embedded in society that many people cannot recognise how they feed GBV. They assume that a man yelling at his partner is “normal,” that a woman avoiding confrontation is “how things work,” that jealousy is “love,” and that control is “protection.” These scripts blur the line between affection and abuse so effectively that victims often fail to recognise the harm until it becomes physical.
Cultural norms also dictate who gets believed. A man with a respected job is seen as stable, a woman who is emotional is seen as unreliable. A man who is charming in public is perceived as incapable of violence, a woman who cries in distress is dismissed as dramatic. Patriarchy functions like an invisible court that assigns credibility based on gender, not truth. And in that court, women almost always lose.
Abusers use these norms to their advantage. They position themselves as responsible providers, dedicated partners, or misunderstood victims. They weaponise the assumption that “good men” could never be violent. They rely on the belief that a woman who stays must be exaggerating. Cultural norms become their alibi, and victims become trapped in a narrative that society reinforces at every turn.
The Families And Friends Who Choose Comfort Over Truth
When a woman experiences gender-based violence, she rarely faces only the abuser. She faces a community that does not want to get involved. Families urge silence to “protect the family name.” Friends give advice that benefits their own comfort, “Just wait for him to calm down,” “Don’t provoke him,” “Maybe you misunderstood.” Neighbours hear the shouting and tell themselves, “It’s none of my business.” Communities prefer stability over accountability, even if that stability is built on a woman’s fear.
This preference is not neutral, it is harmful. When a victim reaches out for help and is met with doubt, minimisation, or silence, she learns that seeking support is pointless. She stops talking. She retreats. She internalises the idea that nobody will protect her. That isolation strengthens the abuser and weakens the victim, creating a perfect environment for violence to escalate.
People often defend their inaction by claiming they “don’t want to get involved in other people’s relationships.” But gender-based violence is not a relationship issue, it is a threat to safety. Communities that avoid involvement are not protecting peace, they are protecting the abuser. And when the violence finally becomes impossible to ignore, those same communities pretend they are shocked.
The Middle-Class Homes
One of the most harmful myths about gender-based violence is that it primarily exists in unstable or lower-income communities. This belief is not just inaccurate, it is dangerous. Middle-class and affluent homes often hide GBV more effectively because they have the resources to maintain appearances. The financial stability, the polished family photos, the carefully curated online persona all create a facade of normalcy that discourages scrutiny.
In wealthier homes, abuse often takes the form of psychological control, emotional punishment, coercion, threats, or financial manipulation. These forms of violence are harder to detect because they leave no visible bruises. The victim becomes trapped by mortgages, shared businesses, professional reputations, and social pressure to “keep the family together.” The abuser is shielded by their status, their charm, and their ability to perform stability in public.
GBV in middle-class families is often ignored because it challenges the fantasy that education, money, or social standing protect people from harm. But violence does not discriminate by income. It hides behind respectability. And the higher the social ladder, the more invisible the victim becomes.
The Digital Age of Complicity
Modern gender-based violence has a new accomplice, social media. Abusers use digital platforms to curate a picture-perfect life that contradicts the victim’s experience. The smiling couple photos, romantic holidays, anniversary posts, and elaborate declarations of love become a powerful defence against suspicion. Friends and acquaintances scroll through these images and assume everything is fine. The victim becomes trapped in a digital narrative that makes it harder for them to speak out.
Social media also amplifies the pressure to stay silent. Victims fear being judged for “airing dirty laundry,” especially when their lives appear enviable online. They worry that people will accuse them of seeking attention or exaggerating. Meanwhile, abusers use online platforms to monitor, intimidate, or harass their partners. Some use shared accounts, location tracking, or digital surveillance to maintain control even when they are not physically present.
The digital age has not just hidden gender-based violence, it has reinvented the tools abusers use to silence and control. Social media becomes a stage where the abuser performs innocence and the victim is forced into silence by the fear of disbelief.
The Authorities Who Fail Victims
Victims of gender-based violence are often let down long before they reach a courtroom. Police responses are inconsistent, influenced by bias, undertraining, or lack of urgency. Officers may minimise the severity of the threat, pressure the victim to reconcile, or dismiss the complaint entirely. Some perpetrators even hold connections within law enforcement, making reporting feel unsafe.
Hospitals and clinics often focus only on physical injuries, overlooking psychological trauma or signs of coercive control. Doctors may not ask the necessary questions, or worse, may fail to recognise patterns. Victims who use substances to cope are judged instead of supported. Their addiction becomes the defining detail of the story, overshadowing the violence they endured.
Courts can be even more devastating. Abusers manipulate custody battles, delay hearings, exploit legal loopholes, and use courtroom charm to paint victims as unstable. The legal process becomes another arena for the abuser to regain dominance. And when the system is slow, overburdened, or sceptical, victims remain trapped in limbo, unprotected and emotionally exhausted.
The systems meant to protect victims often replicate the same dynamics as the abuser, disbelief, control, minimisation, and punishment.
The Reasons That Don’t Fit Public Narratives
People love to ask why victims stay, as if leaving were simply a matter of willpower. But the real reasons challenge society’s assumptions. Victims stay because abusers isolate them from friends, destroy their confidence, sabotage their finances, and threaten their safety. They stay because leaving is statistically the most dangerous moment, and they know the abuser is at their most violent when losing control. They stay because the abuser has convinced them that nobody will believe them, often because friends, family, and authorities have already proven that fear correct.
Victims stay because they fear homelessness, losing their children, retaliation, or a system that judges them more harshly than the abuser. They stay because they love the person they hoped the abuser could be. They stay because the cycle of abuse conditions them to crave the moments of affection between the violence. They stay because trauma rewires attachment. They stay because survival sometimes looks like endurance.
The question should never be “Why does she stay?”
The question should be “Why does he feel entitled to make leaving dangerous?”
The Social Cost of Speaking Out
When victims speak out, the backlash can be brutal. They are accused of exaggerating, lying, being dramatic, seeking attention, or “destroying a good man’s reputation.” They lose friends who prefer the abuser’s version of events. They face character assassinations, social isolation, or whisper campaigns. People question their credibility, their motives, their mental health, and their decisions. Some are mocked online, others are pressured into staying silent for “the family’s sake.”
This social punishment reinforces the abuser’s message,
“You are alone. Nobody will believe you.”
Victims quickly learn that speaking out requires not just courage, but the willingness to lose the community they once trusted. The real question is not why victims remain silent, it is why speaking the truth costs them so much.
Ending Community Cowardice
Gender-based violence cannot be ended by victims alone. The cultural expectation that women must escape harm by themselves is another form of violence. Ending GBV requires communities to stop choosing comfort over truth. It demands disrupting the narrative that violence is a “private matter.” It means confronting friends, holding family members accountable, calling out harmful jokes, reporting suspicious behaviour, and supporting victims without judgment or conditions.
Communities must stop protecting the reputations of violent men. They must stop asking victims to stay silent. They must stop excusing control as “just how he is.” They must stop defending those who cause harm simply because they are socially pleasant or professionally successful.
Change will not come from awareness campaigns, speeches, or slogans. It will come from communities choosing courage over convenience. It will come from people refusing to let silence protect abusers. It will come from recognising gender-based violence not as a personal problem, but as a collective responsibility.
Gender-based violence thrives in silence. Ending it begins with breaking that silence, loudly, consistently, and without apology.
