April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, however, for many, it feels like just another month on the calendar. In a society where 'monsters' walk freely among us, where they roam corridors at schools, workplaces, and even homes, these awareness initiatives feel wasted. They are seemingly just reminders of the systemic failures that allow men to act with impunity, and women and children to continue to bear the burden of violence. This is not an awareness problem; it is a justice problem, and no institution is exempt.

The unspoken threat: violence, masculinity, and the illusion of protection

A critical yet unaddressed question is, from whom does society need protection? The answer is clear: protection from violence, harm, and the very forces that men, as the primary perpetrators, perpetuate. This raises a further paradox, when men position themselves as protectors, who are they protecting, and from what? In most cases, they are protecting women and children from other men. Yet, framing men as society's defenders places power in the hands of those who are themselves frequently the source of violence. Notably, men themselves fear other men, which is an unspoken but pervasive anxiety that shapes our daily lives. If men experience such wariness, the vulnerability of children is even more concerning. The reality is that a number of parents are fearful of their children going to school, playing outside, visiting a local shop, going to the post office, or on a sleep over, because of fear at the hands of men.

This is a global anxiety, which is not new; it is ingrained in societal structures. However, one must consider; if faced with sexual violence and exposure to danger at the same rate experienced by women and children, would the world respond with the same indifference? The lack of systemic urgency in addressing and calling out gender-based violence, and violence directed at children, exposes a harsh reality, South Africa, like much of the world, continues to fail its most vulnerable populations. The 'monsters' have names, and are not lurking in the shadows, they are among us, shielded by a culture of silence and impunity. Men must introspect and rise to the challenge of changing the status quo by stopping to view and treat women, girls, and boys as objects, but as human beings deserving of dignity and safety. Until we dismantle the systems that protect perpetrators, justice will remain an illusion for too many.

Challenging complicity: from "boys will be boys" to "brothers for accountability"

Critical and central to this crisis is the continued reinforcement of toxic masculinity through phrases like, "boys will be boys" and "my brother's keeper", which have long been used to shield and excuse aggression, entitlement, and violence under the guise of brotherhood. These narratives prioritise male solidarity over justice, allowing perpetrators to evade accountability while victims are left unprotected. True protection does not mean hiding behind or shielding abusive men out of loyalty; it means holding them accountable. Therefore, men must refrain from using "being your brother's keeper" to mean intervening against abuse, violation and harm to others, not concealing it. This requires rejecting the notion of that masculinity is synonymous with dominance or that bonds between men should supersede the safety and protection of women and children.

To dismantle this cycle, men must engage in critical self-reflection and actively challenge the status quo. This requires rejecting the objectification and sense of entitlement to women and children's bodies and instead see them as human beings deserving of dignity and safety. Structural and cultural systems that continue to protect perpetrators, including the tacit acceptance of "boys will be boys", whether in our homes and schools, must be dismantled. Without such measures, justice will remain a dream for many victims.

The lack of safe spaces

From the very spaces that should be sanctuaries of safety, our homes, schools, churches, universities, women and children are under constant threat. The institutions that should be the pillars of our society have instead become breeding grounds for violence. There are too many instances where the trusted guardians, whether teachers, parents, religious leaders or lecturers, turn to be the very ones perpetrating the violence. Take, for instance the recent case of seven-year-old Cwecwe at Bergview College in Matatiele, whose fate is now another grim statistic in the long list of victims of sexual abuse. Or countless other victims who are too often erased from the narrative, forgotten in a society that allows them to fade on the shelves of the police stations and courts. These 'monsters' have names, and they do not only lurk in dark corners. They are embedded in the very systems meant to care and protect. We must demand institutional accountability. The silence from schools, religious institutions, and even law enforcement is deafening. Why are our children not safe in the classroom? Why are women not safe in their homes or places of worship? Why do universities, meant to be sanctuaries for education and growth, often become hotbeds of violence and sexual exploitation? The systemic failure to provide safety is a glaring indictment of a society that continues to value the protection of perpetrators over the protection of victims and survivors.

The graves are full of evidence: silencing victims and survivors

In South Africa, the graves of women and children are not just places of rest, but rather the final act of silencing. In too many cases, victims are killed to deter others from speaking out, their lives erased in the most violent ways possible. These deaths are not merely the tragic endings of individual stories, they are powerful statements from the 'monsters' who perpetrate these crimes. These deaths serve as a warning to other victims; Speak out, and this could be you. The violence does not end with physical harm, it extends to the systematic silencing of survivors and those who try to amplify their voices. Victims and survivors are equally often silenced by their families, and their communities. And, when they are gone, buried in their graves, their voices are lost; silenced by the very people who should have been their protectors. The silence of their graves is a tragic reminder of how deeply this violence is entrenched in our society. But the truth is, even in death, these victims leave behind evidence that cannot be erased. Every grave holds a story, a cry for justice that cannot be silenced forever. Every victim, every survivor, carries with them the need for the world to listen, not only to honour the memory of those we have lost but to ensure that such tragedies are never repeated.

Sadly, in the current climate, it often feels like the only place that remains "safe" for women and children is underground; literally buried, far from the 'monsters' that stalk the streets, the classrooms, and churches. This stark reality is a symptom of a much larger issues; a society that has allowed such depravity to thrive unchecked. The soil above their heads may seem safe, but beneath it lies the tragic truth; our women and children are not protected.

The question must no longer be, "why is this happening?" but "when will we finally take action to end it?" Women and children are dying at the hands of those who should protect them, and the institutions that are supposed to shield us have failed us time and time again. This crisis will not end until we demand more than just awareness; we demand action, accountability, and real institutional support. It is time for South Africa to stand up and say, no more. No more silence and indifference. No more institutions that turn a blind eye. The 'monsters' in the hallways should not be tolerated.