JOE-ANN CHAVRY
Clearing my Google Drive, I stumble upon a series of screenshots from an old friend. The photos capture a heated exchange between her and her ex-partner prior to them ending their relationship. Reflecting on this, and considering that I am still friends with both of them years after their breakup, I can’t help but think how the wrong relationships can turn the nicest people into vile, toxic, beings. 
Over the past months, the world had been following another couple’s toxic debacle; that of Johnny Depp and Amber Heard. Depp was suing Heard for defamation over a 2018 article that she published in the Washington Post. In her piece, Heard writes that she had become a “figure of domestic abuse”. The article did not mention Depp, yet his lawyers contended that this piece was defamatory. For this, Depp sought – and obtained – justice.
The trial caught fire on social media and around the world, including in Mauritius. Scrolling through my timeline, I kept seeing people mocking Heard and portraying her as a manipulator and a gold-digger. What especially caught my attention was the way in which men – and women – were interacting with the online content through binary logics of good/bad, victim/perpetrator and innocent/guilty. More often than not, Depp was exalted as a good man and Heard was discredited as the abuser.
As many commentators have pointed out, this is problematic for two main reasons. Firstly, the vitriol directed at Heard is in fact directed at all women, especially at those who have been outspoken about gendered and sexual abuse, and who have been discredited doing so. Secondly, the trial has sparked yet another conversation about who constitutes a “perfect” victim and who, in contrast, is an “imperfect” victim.
Last week, Mauritian social media platforms were also bombarded with images of different victims: men being tortured by police officers. While we can all agree that such practices are barbaric, inhumane and shameful, the victim-status of those men was not questioned. On the contrary, there has been an uproar condemning the perpetrators of those violent acts. The sense of burning injustice in regards to those videos not challenged here. Instead, the question posed is: why is it more difficult to believe women who report being victims of physical, sexual and emotional abuse? Have women’s stories of harassment become so common to leave us comparatively unfazed?
I can already imagine people decrying that the Depp-Heard trial outcome represents justice against “misandry” proclaim: “there is video-graphic evidence of the detainees’ torture”. During the trial, evidence on Heard’s side showed that Depp had kicked Heard, (accidentally) head-butted her and sent texts to a friend saying he wanted to kill her and “f*ck her burnt corpse”. Evidence on Depp’s side showed that Heard had also been violent towards Depp. Because of that, she was discredited, portrayed as a fantasist and made to embody the “imperfect victim”. While both their accounts reflect a toxic dynamic, the onus remained upon her to prove that she is deserving of being seen and heard as a victim of domestic abuse.
This echoes with the legitimisation of rape and gender-based violence through questions like “what did she do to provoke the assault?” or “she should not have worn that dress”. Ultimately, “she brought it on herself”. On the other hand, no one questions why men tortured by the police were in police custody in the first place. This also resonates with the ways in which (Mauritian) men have often been excused for being violent towards women. Last year, we discovered in horror how a politician’s sister was stabbed by her husband. Then, it was argued that the alleged aggressor was upset that his wife was presumably unfaithful, coupled with being under pressure at work, resulting in her assault.
The interpretation of the Depp-Heard trial on social media platforms raises questions on who is entitled to be a victim – and who is not. In so doing, it flags dissonances and shows how misogyny is often disguised as “justice”. While men’s abuse and pain is legitimised and validated when exposed, those of women are forced to silence unless they can prove undeniable evidence of their assault and of them being irreproachable, “perfect”, victims on all counts. Meanwhile, men’s violent acts remain excused by “provocation”.
Surprisingly, such differential treatment went unnoticed for many women on my timeline. The same women, who a couple of weeks ago, were outraged at the censorship of a painting showing a woman’s bare breasts at an art exhibition, were now celebrating Depp’s victory. To assume that women would not partake in misogynistic practices is to be blind to the ways in which sexism coheres across gender identity. Mocking Heard somehow made those men – and women – Depp’s “true fans”. What they fail to see is how this further forecloses the possibility for Mauritian women to denounce misogynistic behaviour in the future. Besides, it calls forth the opportunity of abusing and disciplining women who dare to challenge sexist norms set for them.
Women and feminism are not always synonymous. If anything, these reactions demonstrate how feeble our sense of gender justice remains in Mauritius. Looking at this celebrity trial, alongside people’s reactions, conjures the fraught ways in which women are often treated as “imperfect victims”. Throughout my conversations with Mauritian women who have faced different forms of abuse, the distrust in the police and the justice system remains a leitmotiv. To them, going to the police to report abuse often leads to policemen not believing or mocking them. So, they prefer to not report their abusers. To add insult to injury, there is now a high profile precedent punishing women who dare to come forward with their story of domestic abuse, even without mentioning the name of the abuser: defamation.
It is a question of power. It has always been. Social media often result in knee-jerk reactions for and against individuals and social actors, collapsing nuances into binaries and reinforcing existing power relations. Such tensions remain imperceptible as information is packaged and mediated for us to lap up. This trial was staged for the whole world to see as if it was the latest Pirates of the Caribbean, and it was watched as such; with people siding with Captain Jack Sparrow. However, this trial had wider, real, implications for everyone, especially for women. It reminded us that we may be ridiculed or ignored for “crying wolf” when reporting abuse, if we even feel safe to cry at all.
If throughout the past months, you had been looking forward to hearing who “wins” the Depp-Heard trial, you may well find out that it is your unchecked misogyny.