Charlayne Hunter-Gault’s ‘Corrective Rape: Discrimination, Assault, Sexual Violence, and Murder Against South Africa’s LGBT Community’ is a rather wordy title for a mere 51 page e-book. Attempting to expand upon her original article ‘Violated Hopes’ from The New Yorker, the e-book claims to shed ‘light on the practice of corrective rape’ and examine ‘the wider social context of anti-LGBTI sentiment in South Africa’, and the ‘search for equality in a post-apartheid nation’. Lofty goals by any standard, the e-book does not quite manage to accomplish it. The 2012 New Yorker piece was accompanied by Zanele Muhoni’s photographs of black lesbian women, which added depth and nuance to the article; something that feels as though it’s missing in the longer e-book. 

Charlayne Hunter-Gault, a Peabody winner, is undoubtedly a gifted writer. She tackles a complex and tricky subject with obvious compassion, handling interviews-whether with survivors, activists, or police officers- with care and stays well away from the tired ‘saviour’ trope. Weaving these voices, experiences, and examining these incidents within a larger narrative of South Africa’s much-heralded constitution, country interventions at the United Nations, and public comments from politicians and leaders including Jacob Zuma and Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini; she attempts to move beyond just murder and rape statistics and understand the contexts, histories, and power struggles that surround them.

Hunter-Gault contrasts South Africa’s equality law that recognises and protects the rights of LGBT persons with the rest of the continent, positioning South Africa as a ‘unique’ model.  While narrowly avoiding the ‘South African exceptionalism’ trap, she juxtaposes the progressive laws and commitment to human rights enshrined in the South African constitution with the increasingly restrictive laws being enacted across the continent. There is some reference to the impact of apartheid on South Africa and its evolving identity, but she overlooks the colonial legacies that contributed to many of the anti-homosexuality clauses in penal codes across the world; also affecting LGBT and queer struggles in very particular ways.

LGBT and queer struggles intersect and grapple with multiple oppressions and power dynamics and can be an intimidatingly contentious space — this is true not just globally but within national struggles as well. The book, while bravely attempting to decode and unpack the complexities of South Africa, suffers from a lack of nuancing of LGBT movements themselves. In post-apartheid South Africa, race and class are just two of the intersections that queer organisers must work at, as evidenced by certain groups boycotting Cape Town’s 2014 Pride March as ‘apolitical’, and the ‘die-in’ organised by the One-in-Nine campaign during the 2012 Joburg Pride. Although the majority of interviewees and incidents that Charlayne Hunter-Gault refers to are black, she never directly addresses or engages with the issue of race within ‘corrective rape’. By treating it as peripheral — however unintentionally — it overlooks the continued silencing of (and inaction around violence against) black voices and bodies, and the fault lines of race within LGBT organising itself.

The e-book does little to dispel some of the questions and concerns raised around the original article, including the use of the questionable terminology, ‘corrective rape’. A deeply contested term within LGBT and feminist groups, the term refers to the assault and rape of persons because of their (perceived or real) sexual orientation or gender identity to ‘cure’ them. A loaded term, it does not just advantage and lend credence to the perspective of the perpetrator; it adds another layer of silencing of victims and survivors. The term is also criticised for making sexual orientation/gender identity the point of discussion, rather than the structures of violence- heteropatriarchy, classism, and racism- that manifest in sexual violence and assault. Other critiques of the term also find a burgeoning mythology along race lines, with repeated assertions of ‘Black South African (men) believe that raping a woman can make her heterosexual’. Instead, it has been suggested that these forms and acts of sexual violence be understood within the rubric of ‘hate crime’, with an analysis of the misogynistic and heteropatriarchal frameworks embedded within it. It is curious that despite numerous conversations with LGBT and gender justice organisations, Hunter-Gault continues to use the term without explaining the reasoning or positioning behind it. 

While the e-book was a quick read, it does not offer new perspectives or critiques to the ongoing discussions around ‘corrective rape’ in South Africa or globally. The original article was a succinct read as a standalone piece and showcases Charlayne Hunter-Gault’s impressive writing skills, which raises the question of why an e-book was needed given that the additional material does not really elaborate on the points already made within the article. The article and the e-book do not venture into the murkier and deeper waters that surround the issue of ‘corrective rape’ but are a good starting point for those unfamiliar with the South African LGBT context and are interested in learning more about it and exploring some of the contested spaces and issues.

*Update 5/27/2015: This post has been corrected to state that Charlayne Hunter-Gault won the Peabody award, not the Pulitzer.