Charlize Theron On The Power of Sisterhood in Her Homeland of South Africa

Academy Award-winning actress and Dior Beauty Ambassador Charlize Theron has always been a strong advocate for marginalised communities in her birth nation. And the situation is critical: femicides are five times higher than the global average, and gender-based violence is on the rise. Marie Claire journeyed to South Africa to meet the women who are the true agents of change.

It feels like a cliché to call Cape Town, South Africa, a city of contrasts, but that’s what it truly is. Universities, art centres, and upmarket restaurants along the waterfront next to the vast expanse of slums and townships. This is Charlize Theron's hometown, and she understands its issues all too well. In 2007, she created the Charlize Theron Africa Outreach Project (CTAOP) to put both her fame and deep need to help to good use. "We wanted to do something that we really felt was needed, instead of getting in the way of what other people were already doing." This is how her organisation got started, in HIV and AIDS prevention.

Now it has gone beyond that, building partnerships with local programs. CTAOP identifies a need and an initiative that is working to solve that need, bringing in that extra support and funding that will allow community leaders on the ground to effect necessary change, while also fostering the next generation of leaders.

She invites us to University of Cape Town, to meet some of the students that have benefited from CTAOP’s scholarship program. "I love this program," gushes Theron, "because I have personally seen what powerful young people are capable of." These are young women who have been identified by a variety of local programs and associations and then offered this scholarship, which pays their way through university.

One of the students, Onesimo, puts it very plainly: "I was always worried about school fees, and not having my studies, the time that I would miss school, or whether I would go to bed hungry." Only three things are needed to qualify: the intellect and conscientiousness required to finish the degree, strong leadership qualities and a passion for giving back.

They had to write essays. Miché remembers the opening lines from hers: "It said: I come from shootings in my neighbourhood. I come from little girls and little kids running in the street barefoot. I come from young mothers tirelessly working for their families. I come from hardworking black women." It is poignant to hear them share where they come from, and to measure how far they’ve come: they radiate confidence, believe in their worth, in the fact that they deserve to live the life that is most meaningful to them. They all came into the program with a goal.

But the scholarship gave them a respite from mere survival, time and space to figure out who they are and what they want to do with their lives. Onesimo wanted to open a library to teach kids how to read and "provide the children in my community an alternative to staying out of school and resorting to crime." She still dreams of it, but she has also figured out she wants to become a pathologist, to help doctors identify and cure disease.

Siphosihle’s story is equally powerful. She grew up taking care of a boy they call little brother, but who is in fact their sister’s son. The boy never received a birth certificate, which is vital to acquiring citizenship and identity documents, accessing health and education services, and getting employment. This leaves children vulnerable, often with nowhere to go but the street. "One of my goals was to help the kids in the township, because my brother's not the only one. I wanted to create a campaign to foster the process for these kids to get identification papers so that they can go to school. Otherwise, they end up on the street, being influenced by older kids, getting up to no good."

Now that their brother has documents and is enrolled in school, they have shifted their focus to other goals, based on their own identity. They are studying gender and transformation in the department of African feminist studies, doing advocacy work and research on marginalised identities. "I want to go back to school like the one I went to, and work with queer kids to equip them with skills. The killing of queer bodies and the stigma that surrounds them… people say things but the aggressions can also be very violent and physical. I want to create a space to give the kids tools to advocate for themselves... and also help them see that there's nothing wrong with their identity."

Miché is a storyteller. "There are so many interesting people and stories where I come from. I like to sit and listen to the older people talk about their lives before apartheid ended and about how things are now. I sit and absorb their stories and think: This is something! I want to break into the movie industry. I want to write and direct. And then, once I’ve built a platform for myself, I want to go back to my community and do workshop with young people, help them also break into the industry."

This reflects Charlize Theron’s role in all of this. She is someone who made it big in cinema and is giving back to her community. Onesimo concurs: "The fact that her name is the name of the program inspires me to do more. It inspires me not only to invest in myself, but in others as well." The scholarship program is one of two, out of the many programs that CTAOP works with, that is supported by Dior Beauty. As a long-time ambassador of the brand, Theron always talked about her foundation whenever she could. So, when Dior Beauty decided they wanted to expand their help, Theron told them they had to forget any pre-existing ideas they might have and just go and see what was really going on. Cécile Lochard, Sustainability Director at Dior Beauty, remembers: "It gave us the opportunity to go on the ground in South Africa, to explore and get a better understanding of the remarkable real-life impact that CTAOP was having on local organisations.”

Ashlee George, the executive director of CTAOP, expands: "I think one of the things that is unique about CTAOP is the length of time we have been in existence and working closely with local partners. For Charlize and the team, this has always been a long-term commitment. A core part of our work is that we always knew we wanted to work with community leaders. They know the needs and challenges better than anyone. Our role is to figure out how we can best support them as they envision and execute the dream they have for their community."

During this trip, they visited Philisa Abafazi Bethu (PAB), an incredible organisation led by Lucinda Evans, a true force of nature who works on changing the very fabric of the Township. Cécile Lochard enthuses: “Visiting this unique space was a revelation. Lucinda is a powerful woman and one of the strongest voices in her country. It became immediately obvious that this was an initiative worth supporting. And the presence of a therapeutic garden that was actually in use just sealed the deal for us." Lucinda Evans explains: “This is the Mandala garden. That inner ring, where the sitting area is, is where the medicinal plants grow. If you sit, one of the plants will touch your back, and that’s the beginning of medicine. This is what Philisa Abafazi Bethu means, literally: Heal Our Women.”

CTAOP first got in touch with her during Covid, when the situation in the Townships was particularly dire. As was the case in the UK and across Europe, rates of domestic violence soared as a result of women being at home with their partners all day. Poverty only intensified the situation. "Women were locked up with their perpetrators, domestic violence was happening while the children were not in school. I thought that food would bring peace in the home, peace for families."

The first thing she asked CTAOP for was food. "We fed three thousand people a day, seven days a week, for nineteen months. I had 21 kitchens, 105 volunteers, serving protein-rich, mostly plant-based meals." The compound looks striking amidst the obviously under-resourced narrow streets and alleys of the township. Behind the high gates and barbed wire are shipping containers with roofs, insulation, windows and doors all painted in bright colours, to make them friendlier to the children and elderly who visit daily.

By the door is the Baby Box. It looks like an oversized mailbox, where women with babies they can’t keep can drop off their newborns. When a baby is placed inside, it sets off an alarm. The mother has time to leave and a volunteer from the centre will pick up the infant, take it to the hospital, where children's protective services can take over.

Lucinda built the baby box because, without it, some babies would just end up in the gutter or with the garbage. At least this gives some of them a chance. Local authorities are fighting her on this, as on many things, accusing her of overstepping. But the box has saved at least five babies so far. She refuses to take it away.

There are two main programs being run in this space. There is an after-school program for children, where they get one healthy meal every day (sometimes the only one they get), risk-free playtime and group therapy to help them process their traumas.

Lucinda describes: "When there is violence in the home of a small child, the child feels every emotion and doesn’t have the capacity to say what’s going on. And when the child starts school, no one understands why they are so violent. That’s why we have art therapy and music therapy, to help children self-regulate. Of course, to break the cycle of violence and prevent them from becoming perpetrators. But also, to help them be able to alert if something is happening to them. To help them be a better, more resilient child." She catches herself. "It's not right to speak about resiliance, when children just need to be children, to play and experience. But we find in some cases it is not so. And so we have to build them up."

There is also an emergency refuge centre for LGBTQIA+ youth, who often need to flee their home environment once they are out, as South Africa is, in many ways, still a very traditional, patriarchal society. Another part of the program is the day centre for the elderly, where they can just spend time and make a small supplementary income either by doing crafts or growing vegetables that they can later use or sell.

"Older people have money," Lucinda explains. "This makes them vulnerable to abuse. Domestic violence is rife, but the biggest problem is that they don’t report it because it’s either their child or their grandchild hurting them." Charlize Theron adds context: "A whole generation was wiped out by AIDS. They were the mothers and fathers of those children who ended up being raised by their grandparents, older people who come from a different time and place and are not always equipped."

There are about 140 older people coming here every day, mostly single women, a few men and couples. Coming here allows them to not sit at home, where the risk of being victimised is greater. They can socialise with people their own age, with similar experiences. They even have a dance class! Lucinda laughs: "We are a nation of dance!"

As the sun sets on the children’s sports court, a group of pensioners practices their choreography with their dance instructor as Lucinda looks on. She starts bobbing her head, then swaying to the rhythm of the music, joining in without disrupting the well-rehearsed movements. When asked what she wants for the future, she says: “I want somebody to come and take the blueprint and go do it in their own community. I want this project to be known as the organisation that didn’t see colour or gender, and that helped a community heal, one household at a time."

A LIFE OF ADVOCACY

How did you start CTAOP?

We first got involved in the HIV and AIDS space in 2007. South Africa, unfortunately, is still at the centre of the disease. And back then, we knew so little, it caused so much fear.

Once I was in America, I saw that there were so many solutions that were simply not reaching Africa. There were some emergency measures, people who were already HIV positive were kind of cared for. But nobody was really investing any time, energy or finances towards prevention. A whole generation was wiped out with AIDS. We had a clear vision: step in and give young people information and resources to help them save their own lives.

What pushed you to take that first step towards action?

I think I just found myself in a position where I could do this in an effective way. When you set out to do something, it’s not always what you thought it was going to be. We went in with all these great aspirations of wanting to effect change. And then you realise that you’re just a drop in the bucket.

What made you keep going?

I remember very vividly going back eight months later after we launched this program and we were in a tent outside, where an older lady was doing an educational class on prevention: she was showing the difference between a male and a female condom. And a 16-year-old boy raised his hand and asked if a female condom can be used for gay sex. And I almost fell off my chair. In that moment, I realised that if we save that young man’s life, then this does matter. Because I know for a fact that five years ago, he would have never stood up and asked that question.

I was raised in South Africa, I understand how conservative it is. So, if that’s what we were doing, building confidence in young people to take agency, then we were doing something real. That’s what our emblem stands for: the drop and the ripple effect.

How does your fame factor into the work that you do with CTAOP?

I think it’s both negative and positive. Anytime celebrities attach themselves to something, people tend to not take it very seriously. But I look at it as a glass half full. I use the stages that are given to me to amplify the stories and the voices that I hear through CTAOP. Advocacy is key.

There’s the work on the ground that these female leaders are accomplishing, and it’s really hard, so they need advocates. It’s a huge reason why I decided to be a UN Messenger of Peace. I knew that that would be important. You want as many allies as you can get.

Was this advocacy work something you’d always wanted to do?

I’ve been part of that world since I was 19 years old. It’s really hard to grow up in a place like South Africa, to see the unnecessary suffering around you and not feel like you have to try and do something. Like, you can’t ignore it: it’s right there.

I started out in women’s rights. 30 years ago, South Africa was the rape capital of the world. It’s not something to be proud of, not something you want to be number one at. I was part of an anti-rape campaign that caused quite an uproar. It became an international story, which was great, because then it had a real effect. And when I saw that, I realised how I could do something without getting in the way, by putting an amplifier on what we were already trying to do.

How do you feel that South Africa has evolved since then?

We take four steps forward and then sometimes 10 steps back. And right now, we’re about 20 steps back. Look at statistics, the femicide rate in South Africa is five times higher than any other country globally. That’s shocking. And that isn’t even an accurate number because I know of so many cases that go undocumented, women who just disappear and nobody cares.

Women’s lives are not valued as much as other lives. And women of colour tend to be valued even less. That’s global, but it’s very prevalent in South Africa right now. Apartheid was incredibly damaging. But everybody thought that there was a silver bullet: this amazing man, Nelson Mandela, who was going to be freed and finally be the leader South Africa had always needed and solve all its problems.

So, the international powers moved out just after the election and left us to our own demise. The violence that started then never fully stopped.

Why did CTAOP create the Youth Leadership Program?

It’s one of my favourite programs. Great potential lies everywhere, but in the places where our partners work, that potential is given opportunity. If you really want to change the cornerstone of a lot of the issues, you have to start with the people who are willing to fight. That’s the future.

Lucinda’s safe space brought down crime statistics in that area, just by being there…

Yes, because it shows that people are caring. A lot of violence keeps happening because people think there are no consequences, which means nobody cares. But when you see safe spaces and people advocating for these girls, you realise that people are paying attention. It’s a comprehensive care structure that affects entire communities.

Has your continued involvement in CTAOP changed you as a person?

I’ve never lived in a bubble. And I think when you live a life like that, you can be very overwhelmed by the problems that you see. CTAOP has given me a way to not feel that way, to feel like: sure, there’s a lot of shitty things happening in the world right now, but I can do something that I know is effective. To me that’s incredibly hopeful. Because I think we all need hope. Without hope, we die.

What are your hopes for South Africa and for CTAOP?

My hope for South Africa is to be able to live up to the potential that the country naturally has. It’s one of the most beautiful places that you’ll ever go to. And South Africans are a stunning people. They’re special in the sense that they have endured so much and yet there is still this light, this resilience, this hope in some of the darkest moments. And my hope is that those people get what they deserve because they’ve endured a lot, and that it happens fast.

And empowering female leadership and sisterhood is part of that?

Obviously! We’re the majority of the population. We’re incredibly powerful if we come together. I think it’s important for us to talk about it, because it can give a lot of women who have all the right intentions a direction.

You can go online, read about CTAOP and now you have access to a place where you can help. You can become part of that sisterhood. You can do this.

To find out more, visit charlizeafricaoutreach.org

Originally published by Galia Loupan on Marie Claire International.