It’s not just men that attacked Rebecca Cheptegei and Giselle Pélicot, the media did too.
I didn’t always call call myself a feminist. Now I do. Vehemently. It’s like the older I get, the more I see. The news reports. The violence. The double-standards. It’s everywhere. But it isn’t just the physical actions against us that upset me. It’s the invisible ones too. The ones that bubble just beneath the surface — just high enough to gaslight you, and make you think: is it me? Or do other people feel it too?
Like so many women, I have felt the events of recent months — the murder of Rebecca Cheptegei and serial rape of Gisèle Pélicot — hard. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and I cannot flip it back. Individually they stand as two separately reported episodes. But they are all part of the same, never-ending series. A rising tide of violence that stands, not just as a warning to be heeded, but as a glaring exposé of the femicide that kills 120 women every single day.
The details of these cases are gut-wrenchingly hard to read. But isn’t just the facts that shock me. The way they were reported did too. Time and again, I found myself reading about the “passing” and “death” of Rebecca Cheptegei. It read like a biologically natural event — a loss that was the inevitable result of traumatic injury. Not the murder it was. That fact, it seems, got a little “diluted” in the detail.
It is Orwell who is best known for advising against the passive voice. And yet, when it comes to violence against women, we see it again and again. She “was attacked" they say, without a mention of who did the attacking. "She died," they announce, as though death was guest that arrived at her door, uninvited and unprovoked.
The dangers of this passive construction are well-known. When you make the subject (the woman) the recipient of the action, you obscure — and can even “erase” — the role of the perpetrator. It might sound like a minor detail. But it isn’t. It removes accountability, softens the brutality of their actions, and shifts the blame onto the victims themselves: framing their abuse as an action that could have been avoided, rather than one that was deliberately inflicted.
The official statement of the Uganda Athletics Federation jumps to mind here. In it, they describe Rebecca Cheptegei as a woman who “tragically fell victim to domestic violence.” Yes, you read it right. For me, this isn’t just passive language. It is a complete erasure of the crime and the criminal, and as such, is an act of violence in itself — whether it was done consciously, or not.
Because words stick. And I’m not just saying that because I’m a writer. Studies show that the passive reporting of violent events can influence our perception of them — not to mention the norms and realities we accept.
But it doesn’t have to be passive to be abusive. As we shift our focus to the case of Gisèle Pélicot, the now infamous headline, “Wife takes public revenge on men who raped her every night on her husband’s orders” is an unfortunate case in point.
It’s active, alright. Actively portraying Gisèle Pélicot as a wicked witch on the hunt.
To say that she is seeking revenge is to imply that her actions were fueled by spite. It twists the narrative, painting Gisèle as the aggressor and “vengeful woman”, and those on whom she seeks revenge as her victims. And don’t forget, there are over 50 (70, 80) men lining up to be tried for this case. And let’s face it: we all know there are more.
The reality, though, couldn’t be further from the truth. Giselle choosing to make her trial public is not an act of vengeance. I’m not even sure it’s an act of justice. For me, it is an act of bravery. A move to protect other women — and we all know there are other women — from the norms of violence that surround them.
Of course there will always be those that argue against it. They will reel off statistics and show you that it is men, who are the real victims of this conspiracy theory. As though the pain and anger we feel is misplaced and unjustified.
There are others who tell me that passive construction is a linguistic tool used when reporting crimes against high-profile victims. That it’s the norm. A move to protect against the use of sensationalist language, and create space for the legal process to unfold.
Sometimes I think, maybe they have a point. But then another headline hits. Another story. Another woman. Another life.
And the world reads on. Passive in its acceptance of these events.
The media is a powerful force, and we cannot deny that the way the news is framed — including how people and events are portrayed — yield a heavy influence over personal, political and policy responses.
All I ask is that we use this influence responsibly.
It isn’t about shaming men or firing up sensationalist drama. It is about creating a narrative frame that promotes accountability: acknowledging, respecting and reflecting the reality of events, and putting the rights and dignity of those who have experienced it first.
Silence is compliance. Burying uncomfortable truths beneath layers of passive construction will only obscure them from view.
Hi, I'm Jen, a writer and long-form content creator helping health and social impact organisations make a difference. If you like what you read and want to chat about words, language, or upcoming work you can contact me at copy@writtenbyjen.com
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