colour and victimization is an overload: Mary Louw's journey

Zanele Muholi interviewed Mary Louw in 2003 in Berea, Johannesburg where she lives with her two daughters.

February 2005: Mary Florence Louw lives many diverse lives with many people. She is a proud mother to two teenage daughters. She is a spokesperson highlighting hate crimes against womyn and lesbians, an activist for FEW, a survivor of rape and domestic abuse, a lesbian, a union member, an HIV/AIDS counsellor, a government public servant, and an educator. She lives openly about her sexual orientation in order both to educate the many communities in which she travels, and to dispel the many social myths surrounding HIV/AIDS. Mary is only 34 years old, but her life experiences reach into many of our own experiences as black women, as lesbians.

Mary comes from a coloured community where she says there is no unity between coloureds and blacks, even within lesbian circles. Lesbians can be racists sometimes, and they do not favour her involvement with African (black) lesbians. She says: "For me, this is a big problem because according to the South African race classification, any person that is not white, is black. But there is nothing that is classified as NOT black enough". This is only one of the experiences Mary shared with me. The rest is as follows:

ML:
"In my life, as a black gay woman, I have experienced a lot of difficulties: family rejection, separation with the father of my children, discrimination at work, same-sex domestic violence, and also being a survivor of hate crime.

Me and my two brothers and a sister grew up without our father. He left my mother when we were young, with no financial support system. My mother had to fend for me.

My father died in 1998, though this really did not touch me that much because I never got to know him as a father, he was more like a stranger to me. Just like any other fatherless children, it seems as if we paying for the sins of our forefathers, because of the pain and unresolved childhood wounds that we carry into our adulthood. It t is hard to forget life without a father.

When I was a teenager, I had to force myself into a relationship with a male friend that ended up with us producing children to satisfy my nagging mother. Like many other women have experiences, when I left the father of my children, he left for overseas and now has little to do with their well-being. Before his departure, I told him that I was gay, as I was tired of living a lie. Sexual intercourse with him was not pleasant, and I forced myself in that relationship. If I could go back in I would not have done it at all. He was not a rough guy and seemed to have understood my position.

I work for my children now and live with them peacefully. They used to asked for their father before, but I had to explain to them that he was not part of us, he does not maintain them, and I'm responsible for them.

My lesbianism status is not a big deal to my daughters. They are really quite enlightened about my sexual orientation. As teenagers they ask questions and I always give them the right answers concerning homosexuality. I know that this might be too much for other lesbian mothers my age, because most are not comfortable to disclose their motherhood status along with their queerness. It is even worse with my straight friends, who think that it is immoral to share such an issue with teenage girls. But just like any other woman, I talk to them about everything ranging from menstruation to sexuality.

They know my ex-lovers and have such a good relationship with them.
My belief is that the government should give gay people the right to marry along with adoption rights. Knowing myself and other people in my LGBT community, we are responsible enough to raise children perfectly just like heterosexual people.

My mother has never liked my lesbianism, and at one stage, this situation left me homeless. I had to move from one place to another. One of my brothers rescued me, and spoke with my mother, who calmed down and I returned home. However, it is still hard for my mother to fully understand my life.

Recently, me and my partner got separated, long after an incident of rape that happened in 2000. After leaving an after-Pride party in Braamfontein, we were followed by two strange men who forced us into a dodgy place nearby. We were both raped at the same time. She was still a virgin when it happened. That is how she lost her virginity - through rape. Everything was a mess when it happened because she had a tampon inside. The guy who raped her forced himself into her until the tampon was lodged in her womb. It later had to be removed surgically.

She kind of blamed me for it. I felt guilty for quite sometimes, but now I don't anymore. I sort of think that she would have left me anyway, and just used that as a scapegoat.

I know that it is not nice to be a victim/ survivor of rape, but we would have sorted things out as a couple. I love her still! Our separation caused a terrible blow to the girls because they were close friends. After attending so many counselling sessions, she wanted out and I had to let her go.

Before it occurred, I vowed that should anything happen to her whether an accident or anything tragic, I would standby her, no matter what. But it never meant anything. She used to cry every time after we made love.

I remember one day, we had such a huge argument where I ended up laying a hand on her through anger. I would not have done that - I repent for that. I think that I contributed to our separation. But still I don't know except that she is now involve with her female colleague. I sometime wonder if they were together before me, or it is an affair that took on during our relationship.

As a person who comes from same-sex domestic violence, for which I was never counselled, I should have known better than slapping another woman's face. The affair I had before that was too hectic. She was so abusive in every way: from emotional to verbal and physical. She threatened to kill herself each time I told her that should she hit me again, I will leave her. But she never stopped. The only time that we parted was when she cheated on me.

One time she beat me up and I was admitted to the hospital for four days without going to work. When I went back to work, I had to lie to my co-workers about my injuries.

She committed suicide last year. I'm still trying to process that. I feel bad that she died 'coz she told me that she was going to kill herself, but I did not take it serious. But how should I have controlled it? She had someone else and I also had a partner. Her family liked me so much and even said that she would have been alive today if I were there--apparently the woman she was involved with was not good for her. It is a pity that they could not intervene that time she abused me. She refused to go for counselling to deal with that aggression.
I spoiled her, she never worked and got everything she wanted from me and her family."

Mary's life story highlights many of the issues that we, as an LGBT community, must address as part of our struggle for liberation. We have not yet begun to tackle the issues of suicide and bereavement, or to give adequate support to those who have lost their partners. Mary lost someone she cared for, as she once shared a life with this person. She deserves community support.

Additionally, as a non-white lesbian, she wonders if we, women, are punished for being who we are, or because of our sexuality. The government has done little for the victims of hate crimes, whether they are straight women, or lesbian. There is no hate crime legislation to protect lesbian women. Mary and her now ex-partner are one of the few non-white dykes who have had their sexual assault case tried in court. The perpetrators were convicted and sentenced to 10 minimum -15 maximum years in gaol.

Mary's wish is to see other lesbian women's cases taken seriously by service providers and the courts. It is so sad that often the families of rape survivors do not support them or even talk to them about their ordeal, which leaves these women isolated and alone. They feel humiliated as families are homophobic. Or they do not report these crimes as they feel that by talking about their sexual assaults, their lesbian identity and status will be degraded, especially butch lesbians, and virgins. As a community then, we need to reach out to these women, to support each other, and to gain strength from sharing our experiences and our capacities to challenge a homophobic legal system.