When Justice Isn’t So Simple: The Complexity of GBV in the Wake of the Mai Jeremaya Case

By Nyasha B. Dube

The recent acquittal of two men accused of raping Zimbabwean socialite Mai Jeremaya has reignited a fierce and uncomfortable national conversation, one that underscores just how complex, painful and deeply misunderstood gender-based violence (GBV) can be.

At the heart of this firestorm is not just a court case, but a woman, visibly bruised, emotionally raw and now public again, trying to navigate the wreckage of a system that many survivors say often fails them.

The Case That Shook the Nation

In May 2025, Mai Jeremaya alleged she was raped by two men, an accusation that quickly drew public attention not only because of her status as a social media personality, but also due to the disturbing details she shared. The accused men, however, painted a vastly different picture in their court defence. They claimed the encounter was a transactional one gone wrong, “a sex-for-cash deal” that escalated into a criminal matter after a dispute over payment.

They said US$20 was agreed upon, but that Mai Jeremaya later demanded US$500. After the act, they allege she took a shower, accepted the US$20 and was escorted to a taxi. Days later, according to their testimony, she sent a private investigator to allegedly extort money.

The court eventually acquitted the accused, a ruling that sparked polarised public opinion.

But let’s pause and ask: does acquittal mean innocence? Does it mean rape didn’t happen? Or does it reveal something more sinister, a legal system not designed to hold the full weight of GBV cases, especially those riddled with power imbalances, shame, societal bias and trauma?

Reclaiming Her Voice or Fuel to the Fire?

In the aftermath, instead of retreating, Mai Jeremaya stepped into the spotlight. She did a tell-all podcast interview, perhaps as a way to claim back her voice, to narrate her experience in her own words, without legal filters. And then, she accepted a leading role in PaLodge, a film by Naiza Boom Films that appears to mirror elements of her own ordeal.

These moves, especially the film role, have led some to dismiss her as attention-seeking. Others say she is brave. What’s clear, however, is that the public scrutiny has been ruthless, particularly from men and disappointingly, some women. She's been called a liar, a prostitute and a manipulator. Online vitriol has intensified, painting her as the villain in her own story.

But trauma isn’t linear. Survivors often struggle with consistency. They may appear strong one day, and shattered the next. They may return to the spotlight not because they want fame, but because silence is heavier. And in a world where women’s truths are constantly doubted, speaking out can feel like the only way to breathe.

Justice and Its Blind Spots

This case is a powerful reflection of how GBV, particularly rape, is adjudicated.  Although this case took place in Zimbabwe, this issue is echoed across the globe. The courtroom often becomes a battlefield of credibility, the survivor’s body, history, lifestyle and mental state put under harsh scrutiny. A simple “inconsistency” can tip the scale. Yet trauma, research shows, affects memory, speech patterns and even behaviour after the incident.

Many survivors don’t scream. They don’t fight. Some even shower, smile or post selfies, and then crash days or weeks later.

So, if a survivor’s story appears to change or if their behaviour post-assault doesn’t match the “ideal victim” narrative, does that mean they are lying? Or does it mean our collective understanding of trauma is flawed?

And let’s not forget the context in which this alleged rape occurred, a country haunted by poverty, commodified intimacy, patriarchal norms and weak protective systems. In this environment, how many more stories like Mai Jeremaya’s go unheard, untold or unprosecuted?

What Should We Really Be Asking?

Instead of asking, “Why did she go public?” maybe we can ask, “What made the court disbelieve her?”Instead of saying, “She wanted attention” maybe we can ask, “What happens to women who speak up in a hostile environment?”Instead of saying, “She contradicted herself” maybe we can ask, “What role did trauma, fear or social pressure play in how her story was told?”

This is not to say the justice system must always convict. But it should convict with compassion and understand that not all wounds are visible and not all truths are linear.

A Global Reckoning

Mai Jeremaya’s case is more than a scandal. It is a mirror. A call to pause. A global reckoning on how we perceive rape, women’s bodies and justice.

We have come far in speaking about GBV but cases like these show that we still have much to unlearn. The path to justice must not only be legal, it must be cultural, emotional and deeply human.

For survivors watching all this unfold, the message cannot be: “If you speak, you will be destroyed.”It must be: “We believe you enough to listen. And we will fight for systems that protect you, not punish you.” Let’s continue to challenge the silence, the shame, and the systems that make justice feel like another form of violence.

Bertha’s Legacy stands with survivors. We are here to listen, support and advocate for a world where justice is healing, not harmful.