NEWS-FINANCE -QUOTE-EDUCATIONAL AND MOTIVATIONAL
In a country where violence is often shrouded in silence, Tahina Booth is trying to break the cycle with something as simple as p***ing a ball.
The former athlete runs programmes aimed at reducing harm to women in some of Papua New Guinea’s most dangerous regions. Her story starts with pain.
“I was raped at age seven,” she says. “That experience shaped the questions that have driven my life: why is violence normal? And what would it take to build something different – especially for girls growing up in places like mine?”
In Papua New Guinea, two-thirds of women will experience violence in their lifetime. Earlier this year the brutal murders of two women in separate acts of extreme violence sparked national outrage and renewed calls for action. Leading human rights activist Ruth Kissam says gender-based violence – which includes domestic and blockual violence, and killings related to sorcery accusations – permeates every level of society. Violence is often not reported due to fear of retaliation or a lack of faith in the justice system.
“It’s a pandemic within our homes and communities,” Kissam says. “The reality is that for many women in PNG, violence is a daily experience, not an isolated event.”
Yet scattered across the country, women like Booth and Kissam are working to change mindsets. Booth runs sport-based programmes that teach about leadership, gender equality and healthy ways to resolve conflict. Other women work in villages at a smaller scale to deal with the impact of violence.
Booth says she sees change through her programs.
“The most powerful thing was watching families and elders come and sit on the sidelines … then stay behind, asking questions. That tells you something,” she says.
“It’s about the village beginning to unlearn and relearn, together.”
‘I’ve been through it too’
On the north-east coast of Papua New Guinea, in Morobe province, Betty Awo works with her community. When women encounter violence, she is often the first person they call.
Awo is not a police officer or a lawyer, but a mother and a survivor. She listens, writes affidavits and counsels couples. Sometimes she finds them a place to stay for the night. Awo, who lives in Huon, is part of the Morobe Gender-Based Violence Action Committee and is involved with other local women’s groups. But mostly she works alone, walking from home to home, offering help where she can.
“I’ve been through it too,” she says.
Awo also runs awareness sessions about gender violence and sorcery-related violence, going into schools and communities. She says it’s making a difference: children now speak up when they see abuse – they tell their parents to stop fighting. Village leaders are no longer silent; they call Awo when something happens.
She doesn’t get paid and there’s no funding. Sometimes she runs out of phone credit. She is waiting on a small grant that could help her build a safe house.
But Awo is hopeful about the difference her work makes. She says some broken homes have been rebuilt after her awareness sessions, and people are starting to understand the law.
“People are changing,” she says. “They know violence is wrong.”
She believes this work must come from the ground up – from people like her, who know their communities and care deeply.
“When you stand up,” Awo says, “you help others find the courage to stand too.”
Hundreds of kilometres away in conflict-riven Hela province, Maureen Mokai sees the same problems repeated. Here, the local councillor and community leader from Tari does her bit to help people struggling with violence. She works with dozens of people in what she calls a “peace programme”.
Young people, male and female, as well as women displaced by violence take part in workshops teaching skills, from farming to sewing and ways of healthy living. Mokai says the sessions give people a sense of purpose; they build confidence and are better able to cope with challenges and conflict. She says this hands-on, practical work is changing outlooks in her community.
“When they have mental health training, their minds change,” Mokai tells the Guardian. She shows small groups how to plant and make money for their family.
“They have more food. They feel that they are changing. That makes them reduce violence. Yes, we still live in violence, [but with] my programmes I do community backyard change.”
‘Systemic failure’ to protect most vulnerable
Papua New Guinea has laws to protect women and children – including the Family Protection Act to criminalise domestic violence – and provides some legal avenues for victims. NGOs and shelters provide some support, while local initiatives such as the Haus Krai movement and church-led awareness campaigns have made some progress in shifting societal attitudes towards violence.
Still, laws are rarely enforced, and shelters have severely limited resources. Kissam, who has focused on sorcery accusation-related violence, says gender-based violence is often considered a private matter, rather than a crime, and that harm to women is exacerbated by deeply held cultural norms, weak law enforcement and limited support services for survivors.
“The violence women and girls endure is not just an individual issue but a systemic failure to protect our most vulnerable,” she says.
As the country prepares to mark 50 years of independence, prime minister James Marape has said the moment must be a turning point. In March, he described gender-based violence as an “epidemic” threatening society.
“Why do we turn a blind eye to the suffering of our wives, daughters and sisters?” Marape said.
“For 50 years we have talked about development … about a brighter future for our country. But how can we claim success when our women continue to live in fear?”
He said the next 50 years “must be built on a foundation of respect for women”.
Marape and other leaders have stressed individuals should act to stop violence. Last month, deputy prime minister John Rosso said men must take personal responsibility for ending violence against women and children.
“We should not only look to the government for these solutions. It is each and every male person’s responsibility to make certain that we do not perpetrate violence against women and children,” Rosso said at an event in Lae in July.
Back in Port Moresby, Booth is doing what she can to help shift attitudes and behaviour. The former elite athlete founded the Gr*** Skirt Project to address gender-based violence.
“Sport was where I first learned fairness, voice, and confidence. That’s what I’ve built the Gr*** Skirt Project around.”
She creates sport-based programmes with coaches, teachers and young people. Earlier this year her team led a project in Hela province.
“We saw boys p***ing the ball to girls, youth talking about trauma out loud for the first time,” she says.
After the session, one of the young men who took part said: “We used to sit and plan fights. Now we sit and plan games.”
Booth connects survivors with referral services and coaches are trained in working with trauma. She says her work creates “spaces where people feel safe to speak”. She has an ambitious goal of reaching 1 million young people through her programmes by 2050. Challenges remain and the emotional toll is heavy – but Booth says the work is making a difference.
“We want a PNG where girls can play, boys can cry. I’ve lived the realities we’re trying to shift.”
Booth says women like Kissam and others across Papua New Guinea are “doing bold work” and together they are looking at how to “build a stronger front”. She hopes more women will join and help make a difference.
“Start where you are. We need you now.”
