I remember first seeing the poster of Elizabeth “Tsontso” Moselakgomo on a friend’s WhatsApp status. At first glance I thought it was a Medal Monday post, because I recognised her Comrades cap and Vitality running kit, but when I took a few minutes to read the post properly, I realised it was in fact a missing poster, and my heart dropped.
As the days went on, I, like the rest of the country, hoped she would be found. As a runner and a single mother myself, I deeply identified with her story. She had left her daughter at home to get in her afternoon run, something that I have done many times.
The night that the news reported that her body had been found, my ten-year-old daughter asked me, “Does this mean you can’t go running anymore?” The question caught me off guard and I didn’t immediately have the “right” answer. At that moment I realised that, because of this senseless crime, my daughter now associated running, a sport I love, with danger. A connection that no child should be making.
When I started training for my first Comrades Marathon, I explained to her that although I would leave early in the morning for my runs, I would always return by the time she woke up. I assured her that if I was ever late coming back home, it would likely be because of an injury, and I outlined what she should do and who she should call. It never occurred to me to prepare her for the possibility that I might not come back because I had been killed by gender-based violence (GBV).
The United Nations’ 1993 Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women (Resolution 48/104) defines violence against women as “any act of gender-based violence that results in, or is likely to result in, physical, sexual or psychological harm or suffering to women, including threats of such acts, coercion or arbitrary deprivation of liberty, whether occurring in public or in private life”.
Elizabeth’s death was not an isolated case. Her body was one of several found in the Kempton Park area in recent weeks, and police are still investigating. While many assume that her attacker, or attackers, were strangers to her, it is important to remember that GBV has many faces, and many women, myself included, are hurt by someone they know.
Growing up, we are taught to fear strangers. Our parents teach us about stranger danger and we carry that sentiment into every area of our adult lives. That fear is valid and not misplaced, but it is only part of the picture. For many women, the real danger is closer to home, and it doesn’t usually begin with a slap. Generally speaking, it begins with words and small acts that are easy to explain away.
That is how it began for me.
For years I believed that unless you were physically harmed, it wasn’t domestic violence. I told myself that being sworn at, pushed or shoved was normal in the heat of the moment. However, I now know that this type of behaviour is not acceptable and that it can escalate to more serious physical harm. Shouting can become a push, a push a slap and one day a slap a punch. As Women For Change notes, “Domestic violence can happen once, but more often it is a pattern that escalates over time.”
While we acknowledge that men can be victims too, most interpersonal GBV is committed by men against women, and the perpetrator is often someone the woman knows. According to the GBV Resource Guide published by the South African Government Communication and Information System in 2019, “Domestic violence is the most common form of GBV among partners.”
In addition, Statistics South Africa’s 2025/26 Victims of Crime release, published in September 2026 as part of its Governance, Public Safety and Justice Survey, found that 70.3% of women who experienced assault were assaulted by someone they knew.
With numbers like these, it is clear that this is not a fight any one person, law enforcement or government can win alone. Therefore, the South African government’s response to GBV combines legal action, support services, education and community action under the umbrella of the National Strategic Plan on Gender-Based Violence and Femicide (2020-2030), and much of that work happens in communities.
Along with running, I have a passion for social media and content creation, and my desire to educate and help people has led me to volunteer these skills with one organisation doing this community work: Ambassadors 4 Change (A4C). Founded in 2014 by social worker Gathel Moyo, A4C is a non-profit organisation in Mahikeng that seeks to empower individuals and foster positive change through five core community programs: GBV Prevention and Response, Reproductive Health and HIV/AIDS Prevention and Response, Women Empowerment and Support Services, Community Support Services and lastly Mental Health and Rehabilitation Support Services. Its slogan, “I am change”, reflects the belief that change starts with ordinary people giving back to their own communities.
Moyo says A4C’s approach to GBV rests on three pillars: prevention, response and support. On prevention, the organisation runs community awareness campaigns, including an empowerment expo, and takes GBV education into schools, where the focus is on consent, healthy relationships and bystander intervention. It also trains employees in workplaces on harassment policies and reporting procedures, and works to challenge cultural norms that perpetuate GBV.
When violence has already happened, A4C’s response includes safe shelter for survivors, access to medical and legal support, and individual and group counselling for trauma. Beyond that, they also run support groups and economic empowerment programmes which offer vocational training and job placement help so that survivors can begin rebuilding their lives. Aftercare services such as follow-up counselling and help with sourcing housing and employment continue that support, and the organisation also aids in educating and empowering survivors to be able to speak about their experiences and become advocates and leaders in the fight against GBV.
A4C believes that the scourge of GBV can be fought if we fight it together, and I agree. Ending GBV will take more than the law and the police. It will take communities, individuals and survivors standing together and saying no more.
To my ten-year-old daughter, I say go for that run. Wear what you want to wear. Chase your dreams and your hobbies, and don’t let the threat of violence keep you from the things that bring you joy, whether that is running, going to the ladies powder room at your favourite restaurant or simply going to the post office.
We will keep running for the Elizabeths of yesterday, today and tomorrow, and we will keep working towards fewer Elizabeths in our lifetime.
If you or someone you know needs help, the GBV Command Centre is open 24 hours on 0800 428 428.
