13 Years Later … Reflecting on What it Means for Women to Tell Stories of Violence
StoryCenter Admin
By Juliana Davids
Editors’s Note: In 2005, StoryCenter’s Silence Speaks initiative traveled to South Africa for the first time to work with survivors and witnesses of gender-based violence. One workshop participant, Juliana Davids, went on to integrate storytelling into her ongoing work to challenge abuse in relationships. Here, as Sexual Assault Awareness Month in the U.S. draws to a close, she shares her thoughts on what it has meant to her to tell her own stories, and how she has supported and raised the voices of South African women survivors over the years.
Silence speaks. It is such a powerful and radical concept—something I did not fully grasp back in 2005 when my childhood sexual abuse spoke up for the first time. It was a time for healing, healing for myself and for my family. So many things came to light, including my passion for social justice, especially for women and children. The process of publicly speaking up about something traditionally thought of as private, taboo, shameful, but, in essence, one of the most widespread patriarchal tools for controlling women's bodies, meant risking patriarchal resistance, especially because the mission of sharing such stories was to eradicate the norms and practices that have perpetuated sexual abuse.
Once I had created my story, I found that the resistance to it as a short video came from several different places in men engaged in my line of work as gender activists. Some are actually guilty of violent behavior; others had at least, through socialization, thought about enacting such behavior; and still others were plainly uncomfortable, because abusive behavior has typically been associated with men. My story has been a magnificent tool, not only to help men face their own potentials for exhibiting unwanted behavior, which has been sanctioned by society, but also in assisting women and girls deal with their own loss and pain as fellow survivors. It has also sparked many conversations about how sexual abuse can best be prevented.
Since the making of my digital story, I have participated in many other storytelling platforms. I was part of a core group of women who started a play called, "Reclaiming the P Word," at the University of the Western Cape. This play consists of personal stories based on the politics of women's sexuality and their bodies. 2018 marks the 12th year of our performances, which have included annual stagings at the South African National Arts Festival. This drama created a platform for young women joining the University to continue the legacy of breaking the silence, and creating awareness about reclaiming our bodies.
As my passion for social justice grew—especially for women and girls—I formed part of a team using story writing to heal. but also to gain economic empowerment. We invited female survivors of gender-based, or intimate partner violence to expand their entrepreneurial skills by participating in a twelve-week active workshop space. The program included activities that supported participants in getting in touch with themselves, understanding self concepts, and facing their histories of abuse by writing their stories.
We also focused on the development of small- to medium-sized enterprises, and how to start a business or strengthen existing enterprises. Participating women embraced the opportunity to make the link between economic independence and personal agency through storytelling. At the end of the process, they wrote follow up stories to explore how things have changed for them over a period of twelve months. These stories serve as the inspiration for journalistic pieces directly influenced by survivors. They are being printed in the mother tongue of each participant, with no editing, in order to elevate women’s voices and offer a chance for women to shape and influence local media.
Like me, the women also found the storytelling process to be a powerful tool for self reflection—a start or strengthening of the healing process. They are incredibly proud when they see their stories in print and shared within the community. But there is a flip side. My stories about something that happened to me, and my choices to speak up, have always left such a definitive part of who I am behind. It’s almost as if the content of my stories is both the only bad and good thing that has happened to me. At moments, it feels like the stories will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Making such personal experience public knowledge has sometimes left a good taste in the form of public opinions expressed about my bravery, and a bad taste when my stories seemed to define my efforts to speak out about gender equality, feminism, and even my sexuality. In response to my activism, I have often felt an echo of, "It must be because of what happened to her."
Of course I understand the reactions of others are always only as definitive as I let them be, and that all of it is part of my journey to reconnect to and re-invent myself. The women also found the storytelling process to be a powerful tool for self reflection, and a start or strengthening of the healing process. At the end of the day, the power of personal storytelling and story writing marks agency, voice, and the taking back of power, especially for those whose voices have for too long been ignored.