I’m Very Angry, I’m Extremely Angry About it.

Conversation Series Fall 2025 Sofa Issues

Haruka Ostley in conversation with Tonye Stuurman

“Not a lot of women have the privilege, or can express or can’t speak out about it. So I think…That was my thing… I need to get this out there.” – Tonye Stuurman

I met Tonye in Shanghai while I was an artist-in-residence at the Yew Chung Education Foundation. Her husband worked at the school, and one day she stopped by my studio and asked if I could help create a community artwork for a grief memorial—an event meant to bring people together who hadn’t been able to mourn their loved ones during COVID, especially expats far from home. From that first conversation, I was moved by Tonye’s warmth, passion, and the decades she has devoted to supporting survivors of gender-based violence and young adults facing mental health challenges. Since then, I’ve been grateful for the chance to collaborate with her on several meaningful projects, including our recent Kintsugi workshop for the 16 Days of Activism, a continuation of our shared commitment to supporting women in need.

H: Can you tell me a bit about your background, what drew you to journalism, and how your experiences eventually led you to move to Shanghai?”

T: I’m from Cape Town, South Africa—born and raised there. I did all my schooling and went to university in Cape Town, where I studied journalism. After working for several years in journalism and communication, I decided to do a postgraduate degree in Women and Gender Studies. That decision came from a personal experience—I was raped back in 1995. It’s something that’s stayed with me, and it really shaped the way I see the world. As a journalist, I was already reporting on issues like violence against women and children—unfortunately, it’s a huge problem in South Africa—but going through it myself made me realize I wanted to dig deeper and do something about it.

I do think there’s a huge connection to our apartheid history. You know, in a country that went through apartheid, most of the victims or survivors tend to be Black people. There are so many connections—poverty, unemployment, patriarchy—it’s a whole system, and it’s deeply tied to our very messed-up history. Having spent time interviewing children and women who had gone through these experiences, and then experiencing it myself, I realized that I was somewhat privileged compared to many others—I had a platform and a voice I could use. That led me to start a volunteer group in my community, which we called a support group. Through this group, we began training ourselves and inviting organizations to come in and teach us. In the 1990s in South Africa, there were many organizations working on violence against women. Unlike today, we had to actively reach out and build relationships. We also worked closely with our local police station and set up a weekly roster on weekends to provide support and outreach in the community. Our support group would be on call– if the police got a case, they would call us, we would go down to the police station, and we would sit with that person throughout the interviewing process. We would also go with that person to the hospital for the examination, and just be with that person, support them, and all of this was voluntary. Apart from those support services we provided, we also worked on public awareness and education. We went to schools, we went to churches, and we regularly had. these meetings with the police to sort of train them on how to approach victims and how to speak to them. I had a horrible experience with the police and I had a horrible experience with a doctor that examined me. You can then understand why people don’t want to take these cases further–If you are treated like that by the system, why would you want to take a case further?

H: Can you share how your personal experiences shaped the way you approach supporting victims and survivors?

T: I think it’s about making that person feel that they are being seen and heard. I think that they are not being treated as if they are an inconvenience, or they do not matter or they are just another number. I remember how I felt when the detective took me to this dark area alone with him in the car. He said I needed to pick up the rape kit from another building and wasn’t at the police station. I was alone with him in his car, and I didn’t know him. The kinds of things the doctors said to me, “Oh, why didn’t you take a bath?” or “Why are you letting me come out in the middle of the night?”For them, it was an inconvenience. So the way you treat victims or survivors is so important because we already have this stigma around violence, rape, and abuse. “She was asking for it,” or “she deserves that”, or “It’s her fault,” or “Why was she there at that time? Why didn’t she do this?” and “Why, Why, Why?” As a support person, it’s important for you to show that person, hey, “I don’t care about anything else. I am here for you.” So I think that was important. We had an amazing group of volunteers. and I’m talking from working women to housewives, to students, to high school students, to even young men. We all came together to listen, learn, and support those who needed it.

T: This work stuck with me as a true community effort. It was about people coming together.

H: That’s so wonderful. You reminded us how vital it is to treat survivors with genuine care and dignity — being seen, heard, and believed can make all the difference. It also shows the power of community when people come together to listen and support with compassion. So that the person doesn’t have to feel alone.

H: Having lived in both South Africa and China, how have these different cultural contexts shaped your approach to healing and supporting others? I’m sure it’s a very different experience.

T: It’s relative! We’ve been in Shanghai for 13 years now. When we left South Africa, it was… 2005. We went to the Middle East for 4 years. And then we came back to Africa, and we were in this little landlocked country.

During those years-the 4 in the Middle East and the year in Lesotho – I didn’t have the opportunities to really follow what I really wanted to do. In the Middle East, things are hidden and it was difficult to fully follow my passions.

It was such a different culture, so if you didn’t personally know someone, there weren’t really any organizations or resources to go to. You could try to help when you heard about somebody in need—but those opportunities were very few and far between. When we came to China in 2013, I only got connected to this work again because my daughter was struggling with anxiety. I was looking for a counselor for her and found this organization. At that time, our medical insurance didn’t cover mental health, so I had to find someone affordable, because it’s really expensive. I found the Community Center in Shanghai and connected with a counselor named Katie, who was amazing. She said, “Oh, this is what you’ve been doing—you should get back into it.” And that’s how I started volunteering again. It’s a very different environment here. We’re connected in different ways—not as much face-to-face, but more over social media.

H: Social media?

T: Yes, there isn’t that one-on-one connection here. Everything is done over social media—people reach out, ask for help, you refer them, and that’s where it ends. You usually don’t see or hear from them again.

H: That’s interesting. I imagine the stigma around gender-based violence is strong in the culture. People may be afraid to be seen or to connect with others in public spaces to talk about it. It might feel easier for them not to meet someone in person, to stay anonymous instead. The longer the relationship with a counselor, the more serious it becomes — so I assume they prefer not to form deeper or long-term relationships.

T: I had to adapt the way that I think because I am more…

H: Person-to-person, right?

T: Exactly.

T: But this is our situation, and so we need to deal with it and make the best of what we can. It’s also very hidden here– People take a while before they ask for help, and they don’t speak very easily. I’m speaking here specifically about the expat community. You have to constantly consider who this person is and where they come from. That respect for diversity is really, really important.

H: Do you think the community has changed or evolved at all over your 30 years as an advocate, or do you feel it’s still moving very slowly? Is it still somewhat taboo to talk about these issues, or have you noticed any shifts?

T: Do you want the truth?

H: Yes, I want your honest opinion.

T: I’m very angry, I’m extremely angry about it. It pisses me off when people say, “Yes, but we’ve come so far.” And I’m like… really? Have we really come that far? If I look at what we did more than 20 years ago in South Africa, and then compare it to other countries I’ve lived in, I see how far behind they are in dealing with gender-based violence. Yes, South Africa has the highest rates of gender-based violence in the world and the highest rates of HIV,but we are also a country where people come together. If we’re not happy with something, we make our voices heard. If we want to take action, we do it.

H: That sounds like a supportive community..

T: Exactly. It happens, and I think also in South Africa, there is shame around it, and there’s still the stigma- but it is not like nobody talks about it. It’s not hidden.

T: Especially when a child is being hurt, the community steps in. In South Africa, we have this belief: “My child is your child.” We grow up in communities where the auntie next door—even if she’s not related to you—can check on you as a parent because she has the right to do that. We still hold onto that idea, where accountability isn’t just within the family but extends throughout the community.

H: That’s wonderful! In Japanese culture, especially today, people tend to avoid getting involved when there’s trouble. So even when someone is clearly in need, others often stay away. Sadly, many cases of gender-based violence or child abuse are discovered too late, even when victims had been asking for help or showing some signs. I truly admire open and warm-hearted communities like that.

H: Will you also tell me more about your Writing Wounds into Healing workshop, which uses storytelling as a form of recovery? How do you see writing helping survivors reclaim their voice?

T: You know, I think storytelling can be a form of recovery—it helps people process their pain. For me, with my background in journalism, I’ve always been drawn to writing. A few years ago, I became really serious about wanting to write a book—specifically about the experiences of young Black South African women in China, because it’s such a significant topic. I found this amazing publisher in South Africa who offers an eight-week online course on writing. As a journalist, you think you’re a writer, but there’s a big difference between journalistic writing and other forms of writing. I was so inspired by her. When I was in South Africa on holiday, I attended a full-day workshop with her. She’s incredible—she publishes most of the top South African books and is really passionate about people sharing their stories. When I came back to China after the workshop, she mentioned the eight-week online course, and I thought, “Ooh, I’m in!” And she would guide you through the whole process. These exercises were really interesting. She would have us do meditation exercises. She would send recordings, and once you finished a meditation, she’d say, “Now get up and write.” She had exercises that would bring out so many things in writing that you’d never even considered before. It was very personal, very biographical—it was all about yourself, your life, and how you tell your story.

Anyway, a few years ago, I was asked to be part of a hospital group. They wanted to start sexual trauma support groups. So I was very privileged to be asked to be part of that group of facilitators. We were trained by an amazing organization in the US called Hope Recovery. They trained us to be online facilitators for sexual trauma support groups. During COVID, a lot of people were online all the time, so we had a huge response to these people joining support groups. From that experience, I thought it would be helpful to create something for people to write, because for some people, it’s easier to write than to speak about their experiences

I sat for a while, and I put together this 8-week online program called Writing Wounds into Healing. This was specifically aimed at survivors of sexual trauma. Each session focused on different aspects of participants’ experiences: how sexual trauma has affected their lives, how they feel now, and so on. The sessions would start with free writing to clear the mind, followed by exercises with two or three prompts. So people would free-write to clear their minds, and then, we would go into prompted exercises, and we would have 10 to 15 minutes writing. It was amazing to see how powerful the process was for people—just giving themselves the space to reflect, process, and express through writing.

H: That’s a fantastic process. I also used drawing as part of my own personal healing journey, so I can totally relate. It’s wonderful to have the camaraderie of others supporting you through it. Sometimes people don’t know where to begin, so having those prompts must have been really encouraging.

T: And, yeah, writing isn’t for everyone but for those who do it, it can be really powerful. Some people prefer meditation, or yoga, everyone’s got their own thing. I ran that eight-week program a few years ago, and you won’t believe it, a month ago, someone messaged me saying, “I haven’t forgotten those eight weeks. If you do it again, please let me know.” That really made me realize how impactful certain things can be for people. We also did work during the 16 Days campaign, using some of their writings in a Kintsugi workshop. For me, the most important part isn’t just talking about statistics—it’s about hearing people’s voices. Whether it’s through a Kintsugi workshop, art, writing… whichever way someone is comfortable expressing themselves, it matters. Voices need to be heard, whether it’s mental health, gender-based violence, or anything else. I can stay and talk about my own experiences when needed, but recently I told someone, “I want to start writing again, but I don’t want to write about my trauma anymore. I’m done with that.” People have asked me over the last couple of years if I want to share, and I’ve said no—it’s time for someone else’s voice to be heard.

I don’t have a problem sharing when it’s necessary, but I truly feel it’s more important that people’s voices are heard. That’s where connection comes in—because when you hear someone’s story, you can connect to something in their experience.

H: Yeah… and I just think it’s amazing how open and vulnerable you’ve been—how you let yourself be seen in that way, and how that, in turn, makes others feel safe to open up too. I’m curious—what gave you the courage?

T: I don’t know. I think it started with anger. I think that’s been a twist.

H: Oh, that’s really honest — your motivation came from a true, genuine impulse, not from pretending to help others for the sake of appearance. It’s inspiring how you were able to turn that anger into energy that encouraged others to rise up while also offering them big support.

T: I was very angry. I don’t think I went through the whole cycle of… I don’t know, but it was definitely anger. Every time I thought about it, I was angry—angry because I experienced something that so many women go through. And for me, that was… but those women don’t… like I mentioned to you at the beginning…Not a lot of women have the privilege to express themselves. Or, for many reasons, they can’t speak about it. So I think that was my thing– I needed to get this out there.

H: So in a way, you felt a sense of responsibility because of your privileged life. But I’m sure it wasn’t easy to speak up because it meant telling your parents and letting everyone know what happened to you.

T:I think my parents struggled a lot, because I was so public. I would do TV interviews, and I would do newspaper interviews, and my poor parents just had to deal with whatever because I needed to get my story out there so people could hear, so that women could understand that we need to deal with this issue.

H: You mentioned that your mother once told you your experience happened because you weren’t going to church. Reactions like that from others must have made it even harder to share your story.

T: That’s right. I feel I was just angry, and that is where it started off. It’s been almost 30 years and I still have to tell this story? That’s my question. When I was going through those years of doing workshops, and we were doing marches, and we were speaking in public,–In my mind, I thought, the next generation is going to have it better, because we are doing so much work. And now… I have a daughter. And I worry, constantly, is she going to be okay?

H: I can only imagine. I feel it’s harder to detect now since most gender-based violence happens within a single household. Even people who need mental support often connect privately online, so community networks aren’t very visible. I don’t even know my neighbors, which makes it harder to find support from others.

T: And so, in my mind, I’m back in that angry phase again. I really thought it was going to be better for her. I thought the work we had done meant we’d never have to go back there—that women wouldn’t be treated like this anymore. And now I think, what has really changed? I still have to check if her tracker is on her room key, and I even bought her a little alarm when she went to university. I’m like, “Please, the alarm must be on you!” Why?

H: Right.

T: You know what I’m saying? And I’m sorry if people think that I’m pessimistic, but I just cannot help it. I just cannot help it, because I know there are these amazing organizations and amazing women across the world who are putting in their everything in doing this work every day in their communities, and it gets to a point where you think, what’s the use? Nothing is changing, nothing is changing. So, after 30 years, I’m angry again.

H: Maybe having anger is motivating, because you speak up, and so openly, and doing that gives power to people around you.

T: I think that’s why, three years ago, I started the 16 Days project in Shanghai. I was like, “Hey, have you heard of 16 Days?” In South Africa, we’ve been doing 16 Days for years, and people here were like, “What is that?” In a way, I feel like this little girl from Africa can come to Shanghai and teach them a thing or two. You know what I mean? I really love that. I think, “You don’t know about these things?” So, 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence is huge for me. In South Africa it’s an international campaign. Starting it off in Shanghai… I don’t care if only 10 people hear about it, or 20—I have to do it every year.

H: That seems like a difficult thing to do, and you’re doing it amazingly, because your environment does not allow for you to have these kinds of campaigns, and there’s a lot of restrictions.

T: Right. There’s not been a year that we haven’t had issues. But for me, it’s important. You need to surround yourself with a network of people that are genuine and that understand and have good intentions. You are just one person in this whole scheme of things.

H: Right.

T: It’s not like I saved somebody’s life or anything… It takes belief, you know what I’m saying? It really takes a village to make change.