The Silence of Abused Women in Colombia

Demonstrating over Senate elections this month in Narino, Colombia. At least three cases of sexual abuse occur every hour in the country, but only a small percentage of victims seek justice. Credit Nadège Mazars for The New York Times
Demonstrating over Senate elections this month in Narino, Colombia. At least three cases of sexual abuse occur every hour in the country, but only a small percentage of victims seek justice. Credit Nadège Mazars for The New York Times

A finger on the lips, the universal gesture of silence, was all her rapist had to do to make sure that she didn’t report him to the authorities.

In an article published on Jan. 19, a Colombian journalist, Claudia Morales, described her experience of being raped by a former boss. She declined to mention his name, but suspicions fell on Álvaro Uribe Vélez, Colombia’s former president and a current member of the Senate who was her supervisor in 2003 and 2004. Journalists at The New Yorker and Le Monde were among those who later reported on the speculation over Mr. Uribe, who denied he was the assailant.

Ms. Morales’s story, and the subsequent attention given to Mr. Uribe, has divided Colombia. Many have shown their support with the hashtag #YoLeCreoAClaudia (I believe Claudia), others have defended her presumed aggressor with the hashtag #YoSoyUribe (I am Uribe).

In defending her choice not to name her assailant, Ms. Morales has been arguing that silence is the only option for many women in Colombia — and other Latin American countries — where the law has been an ineffective tool for dealing with gender-based violence and harassment. Accused abusers often seek revenge on victims who go to the authorities; some do not hesitate to wait outside the courthouse to threaten or attack their victims again.

Thus, for many victims, silence is the only defense. Keep your mouth shut and pray that it doesn’t happen again. And thousands of women have stoically, silently endured the pain of abuse. Latin America, where reporting a rapist in male-dominated countries like Colombia results in ostracism or worse, seems light years from the #MeToo movement sweeping the world.

But failing to speak up about being assaulted will not make the problem go away. Every woman who says nothing gives power to the bosses, husbands, strangers and other men who attack and harass them under the cloak of impunity.
In Colombia alone, at least three cases of sexual abuse occur every hour, but only a small percentage of victims seek justice. According to one study, between 2010 and 2015, in a time of armed conflict in Colombia, only 20 percent of the some 875,400 women who suffered from sexual assault reported it to the police.

Colombia, like many countries, has laws to protect women, but they tend to exist on paper only. Law 1257 of the Colombian Penal Code, for example, passed in 2008, states that the punishment for “violent physical access” is 12 to 20 years in prison. But very rarely does a rapist go to jail, so it is hardly surprising that women don’t want to talk. Some 24 percent of victims who declined to report their attackers to the authorities did so out of fear of reprisals.

In the wake of Ms. Morales’s article, a number of journalists have debated the issue of silence about rape.

Paola Ochoa, a columnist for El Tiempo, has criticized Colombian opinion leaders for their indifference to the increased number of cases of sexual abuse and murders of women, which rose from 546 in 2016 to 565 in 2017. In a column, she called out local journalism “divas” and openly asked them why they have remained silent.

Meanwhile, Antonio Caballero, one of Colombia’s leading opinion writers, devoted two columns to minimizing the accusations of harassment, reducing them to the whiny complaints of suddenly grumpy women. His opinions reflect the atmosphere of a sexist culture that has normalized harassment.
The culture has to change. For this to happen, public debate must focus on those people charged with administering justice — the judges, prosecutors, police officers and politicians whose inefficiency and inability to swiftly pass and enforce laws has continued to hurt thousands of women.

It is no exaggeration to say that in Colombia reporting an abuser is far more dangerous than abusing a woman. We cannot allow any more cases like that of Claudia Johana Rodríguez, who in March 2017 reported an abusive partner to the police. No restraining order was imposed because “the father also had the right to see” his son. One month later, he killed her.

Sexual abuse flourishes due to victims’ fear of reporting such crimes, as well as a lack of coordination among social, state, academic and cultural agencies that have been unable to stop this abuse because of their own indifference and/or incompetence. Silence has become a last and only resort, because in Colombia violence against women is simply not regarded as an urgent problem.

The consequences of reporting abuse cannot be overstated. The government must do whatever it takes to ensure the physical and psychological integrity of women who report sexual assault.

A first step would be to reduce the impunity. But the state must also help to orient and protect those who report these crimes by offering them temporary economic assistance, some form of job security, and support for ensuring custody of their children. The state should also guarantee the enforcement of restraining orders when there is evidence of sexual or psychological abuse or violence.

Without this kind of legal and social structure in place in Colombia, victims will remain at the mercy of their abusers. Fingers need to be pointed at the accusers, not placed on lips to keep things hushed. Silence is no longer an option.

María Antonia García de la Torre is a Colombian journalist.

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