TW: sexual violence, assault.
Club safety is a growing concern in South Africa, and the conversation around how we might feel safer is more nuanced than you’d think. Here’s our take.
When we talk about club safety, we aren’t just talking about the policies that make a venue safe. The restriction and supervision of things like weapons and/or firearms, venue capacity, the admission age of attendees, ventilation and so on, which goes without saying.
Club owners and organisers are strictly governed by the rules as outlined under Section 31 of the Safety at Sports and Recreational Events Act of 2009, and other blanket regulations that apply to all business owners in South Africa. Compliance with such laws is the minimum that we can expect.
Unfortunately, there are still instances when even these basic requirements are not being met by our recreational spaces, but there’s not much we can do about that as the general public. This is an issue that requires better policing and implementation of laws. It’s as simple as that.
To play a more active role in assuring our own safety, we actually need to understand the very culture of clubbing in South Africa, and try to reshape it.
In the second quarter of the 2023/2024 fiscal year, South Africa reported 1,514 attempted murders involving female victims and 14,401 incidents of grievous bodily harm against women. The statistics detailing the experiences of queer individuals is extremely limited, with almost no publicly available data, but one only needs to speak to any queer or trans person to know that they’ve most likely experienced some kind of verbal or physical violence on a night out.
This conversation is therefore one that extends far beyond the dance floor. Talking about club safety in South Africa means talking about gender-based violence, talking about homophobia, about transphobia, about institutionalised racism and even classism.
The obvious and most vital solution is education. It’s a responsibility that should fall on the shoulders of straight, cis-gendered men, such that a culture of awareness can be cultivated. It’s no exaggeration to say that many women or femme-presenting individuals, queer people, people of colour, they almost expect to experience some kind of harassment on a night out. That this is a given is not just disappointing, but a sign that things need to change, and they need to change drastically.
Event organisers and club owners need to do a better job of protecting us. Having a few tough bouncers at the door simply isn’t enough. It seems like the current approach to club safety in our country is to respond to every and any issue with physical force. Pulling people out by the scruff of their shirts and throwing them out (which is sometimes necessary), but often the presence of violent bouncers can actually escalate a problem, and can leave those who are already unsafe feeling even more vulnerable.
I recently attended MMINO in Cape Town, a party hosted by DESIREE, and I saw what could be an alternative. A group of mostly women, dressed in normal clothes, would regularly make their rounds through the crowd, watching for anyone that might be acting unsafely towards others. At one point, a man who had definitely had too much to drink began to push and bump the people around him. He then started flirting with a group of women who explicitly expressed that they wanted to be left alone, but the encounter didn’t last long. As if from nowhere, one of these safety officers appeared, she whispered something in the man’s ear and pulled him away. No fuss, no overt aggression. I’m not sure if he was escorted out or what followed, but he didn’t return, and the problem was completely de-escalated.
The presence of safety officers in amongst crowds is no unfamiliar practice. In fact, there are many parties in South Africa that already have such measures in place, but if it’s evidently so effective, why is not common practice?
Increasing the visibility of the people behind the decks and behind the bar is also vital to enhancing the safety and inclusivity of club spaces. When we step into a club, or any recreational space for that matter, we immediately look at the bar staff, the management, the DJs, and if we don’t see individuals that reflect our own identities, the identities of our friends, it’s immediately clear that inclusivity is not a priority.
It’s all about accountability. Calling someone out if you see them behaving inappropriately, and having these discussions with your friends on broader terms too, so that people can enter night spaces with a more sensitive and responsible attitude from the outset.
It’s essential to create an environment where perpetrators recognise that the risks of engaging in harmful behaviour are too high, whether due to social repercussions or legal consequences. For staff and leadership teams, this means fostering a space where it’s explicitly clear that this behaviour will not be tolerated in any shape or form. Individuals who come forward to seek help should feel confident that they will be believed and supported.
For example, pre-event information on safety should always be provided when purchasing a ticket, and clearly visible, on-site posters should outline how to access support, with clear messaging about the club or event’s safety ethos. It’s really not that difficult, but not enough people care enough to take these issues seriously, which is why such practices can often feel unnecessary, or perhaps like an exaggeration, to those in charge.
Without overlooking the dedicated organisers and the inclusive spaces that are actively working to make partying safer, club culture in South Africa is still one that supports violence in all its ugly forms. When we finally choose to acknowledge this, acknowledge that it’s an epidemic, only then will we start to reshape the club space.
It starts and ends with the choices we make, not in our individual capacities, but as a community of club-goers all wanting the same thing. To have a good time.
