THERE are times when I cannot muster enough willpower to think about what happens in Guyana. Last week, a man in his 30s allegedly killed his wife, a lawyer, in her 30s. And it is frustrating and downright maddening that another woman, Asasha Ramzan, lost her life at the hands of a man who was seemingly unable to manage his emotions and stop himself from resorting to an irreversible decision.

Gender-Based Violence (GBV) and the senseless murder of women are not uncommon in Guyana. The United Nations (UN) estimates that about one in three women will experience GBV in their lifetime. In Guyana, the situation is worse; it is estimated that about one in every two women will experience GBV in their lifetime. Statistics such as these illustrate the extent of the issue locally, but this alone reflects the horrific situation women face.

Asasha, for example, was a State Counsel working with the Attorney General’s Chambers. From all indications, she was well educated, meaningfully contributing to Guyana’s development. Social media posts indicated that she was an inspiration, becoming the first lawyer in her family and persevering despite her challenges and circumstances. I think about Asasha, and all of the women whose lives were senselessly lost at the hands of their partners, and it makes me wonder why we see violence so frequently. Why do we see it at all?

Days before we lost Asasha, Guyana joined the rest of the world in commemorating the UN’s 16 days of activism to end GBV. And during that period, there were robust awareness campaigns, new programmes launched and even consultations on a new Family Violence Bill that promises to provide greater protection to vulnerable people, such as women and children. Those efforts are commendable and, clearly, much-needed, but it is hard to be optimistic about change when we see women’s lives lost so frequently.

I started writing this column in 2018 and now, nearly five years later, I don’t know how much more introspection and reflection I can do on GBV because I am scared. It seems as though there is a very real possibility that one day, my life, or any of our lives, can be snuffed out because we live in a society that seems rife with unequal power dynamics and men who seem to believe that they have some God-given ability to take lives.

Each report of GBV is a trigger, taking me back to a place of harassment and shame. Each report makes me feel like a helpless 17-year-old who cannot get help because the shame would be too much (It is not, and it will never be. Please, always reach out for support and help). Each report convinces me that one day, I could die at the hands of a partner who was unable to healthily process emotions and resorted to violence and an irreversible decision.

As if the senseless loss of Asasha weren’t enough, there were enough ignorant sentiments expressed that made me feel all the more unsafe growing up in this society. It appeared as though there was much sympathy for the man who took her life, perhaps as an attempt at honouring his life too. Needless to say, I cannot honour a man who murdered his wife or someone else, regardless of his mental state.

Again and again, these extremely unfortunate things happen. And again and again, we are forced to digest this reality and move on until it happens again and our furore returns. It cannot be overstated that we have to address gender inequality, gender discrimination, and the social system of patriarchy.

As written before, if we are genuinely interested in seeing this scourge of violence against women eliminated, we have to be willing to understand that violence is a systemic issue and we all interact with the system of oppression every single day. Our advocacy, activism, or simply, outrage must not end after a WhatsApp status or Facebook post. It most certainly does not end at calling out problematic men, or at least the problematic way they think, on social media. We have to be willing to do the hard work in dismantling these structural causes-whether that hard work means being activists and advocates, supporting the activists and advocates, whether it means interrogating those relations in our private spaces, or whether it means sharing the knowledge with other people.

This horrible reality has to change.

If you would like to discuss this column or any of my previous writings, please feel free to contact me via email: vish14ragobeer@gmail.com