Basil Jarrett | The road to recovery must include our women

FOUR WEEKS on since the passing of Hurricane Melissa and you can rest assured that, whichever of the remaining 116 active shelters that you visit, the scene will be largely same. Among the debris, fallen trees and roofless structures, men and women try to regain some semblance of normality by discussing things outside of their current circumstances. Psychologists call it a coping mechanism but, for those who still need a government-run shelter in which to sleep well at night, it is merely a distraction from the real tragedy still unfolding across western Jamaica.

As day breaks at one of the shelters in Petersfield, Westmoreland, a cluster of men by the gate argue about politics, those infernal Reggae Boyz and “when light coming back”. On the other side, a long, snaking line of women, some with babies on hip, some with toddlers wrapped round their legs, try to busy themselves as they await the next relief supply drop, clutching on to a plastic bag with everything they own that isn’t currently floating down a Sav-la-Mar gully.

On the surface, you see Jamaican resilience in full display, but, if you look carefully, you see something else: women carrying a ridiculous share of the burden and still somehow managing to press on, despite the special and unique challenges they face.

ESPECIALLY VULNERABLE

That’s exactly the problem that UN Women walked into after Hurricane Melissa. Disasters, they will tell you, are not gender-neutral and, even though wind and rain wets everybody the same way, women are more likely to face a heavier burden as they juggle all of the challenges outlined above, alongside caring for children, the elderly, the sick, and themselves. Globally, it is estimated that women perform 75 per cent of unpaid care work, or four hours and 25 minutes daily. That is three times men’s average of one hour and 23 minutes per day. Relief and recovery measures that do not take this into account set back women’s economic productivity and their ability to recover equitably.

Additionally, women are often the ones sleeping in the darkest corners of crowded shelters, who have less savings to fall back on, less property in their name, and more bills already in arrears. They have to cook, wash, soothe, mediate and “hold strain”, even when their own world is falling apart. And that’s before we even start to discuss the uncomfortable realities of violence, including sexual and physical attacks from abusive partners or strangers in shelters. Existing prevalence data supported by UN Women found that 39 per cent of women in Jamaica who have ever been in an intimate partner relationship have experienced at least one form of violence in their lifetime. Now, imagine what those figures look like in emergency and crisis situations. Any disaster response plan that ignores these facts is a plan for only one half of the country.

LINES, LATRINES AND LIFE CHOICES

And that’s what the UN’s gender guardians, UN Women, are focused on in the western half of the country since Melissa. Their work is far from glamorous, as they are often preoccupied with where the light bulbs are in a shelter, whether the bathrooms have locks and whether women and girls have safe access to a latrine. In their work, protection is not simply armed soldiers standing nearby. It’s asking questions like, “Is there a separate, safe sleeping area for women and children?” or “Do women know where to go and who to call if someone harasses or assaults them?” Also, “Are there clear, confidential channels to report sexual exploitation and abuse?”

That’s why, as the country steps into the annual 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence, UN Women’s work feels less like a ‘nice-to-have’ and more like a frontline requirement. Because, in any crisis, desperation and the need for food, tarpaulins, mattresses, medicine, and transport can be an open door to exploitation, sexual harassment, intimidation, and all the quiet horrors you don’t always see on the nightly news.

THE ROAD AHEAD

But things are beginning to look up. JPS says power has been restored to 76 per cent of its 687,000 customers, NWC has restored water to 81 per cent of its 552,000 customers, while Flow and Digicel have 82 per cent and 76 per cent of customers back online. These improvements make way for the relief operations to now enter the rebuilding and recovery phase and, soon, tarpaulins and tinned mackerel will be replaced by cash-for-work opportunities, reconstruction jobs, and grants going to “household heads”. But, if the system doesn’t deliberately include women, they will devastatingly be left out of the very opportunities that rebuild income and stability.

The UN Women’s push is therefore pretty straightforward: Women must be included in decision-making processes and have the same access to rebuilding jobs, cash-for-work programmes and grants, as they are often the ones stretching every dollar to keep children in school and food on the table. I don’t think any sane person would challenge that. Countries simply recover faster when the female half of the population is fully included and resourced.

GENDER EQUALITY IS NOT OPTIONAL

The real point is that, in humanitarian work, gender equality is not optional. It’s not a line item you add at the end if there is leftover funding. Rather, it is a standard part of how serious agencies operate.

By being here on the ground, UN Women are ensuring that they have a seat in the rooms where big decisions are made, where the money goes, who qualifies for it, and what protection looks like. When women are missing, they push to bring them in. When they are present but ignored, they amplify their voices and, when they are being harmed, they insist that the system responds.

November 25, marks the beginning of 16 Days of Activism to end Gender-Based Violence and, for once, the timing doesn’t feel simply symbolic. We are talking about shelters in Westmoreland, dark lanes in St James, and crowded food lines in St Elizabeth where the risk to women and girls is real. As a society, we have a collective responsibility to ensure that the hard, unglamorous work of disaster relief doesn’t quietly turn into a second, hidden disaster for half the population. The question is whether the rest of us will match that effort by backing the policies, budgets, training and leadership that put women at the centre of recovery, not on the margins.

Major Basil Jarrett is the director of communications at the Major Organised Crime and Anti-Corruption Agency (MOCA) and crisis communications consultant. Follow him on Twitter, Instagram, Threads @IamBasilJarrett and linkedin.com/in/basiljarrett. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com