War on women

Pakistan continues to produce stories of female success: women breaking barriers and asserting their presence both at home and abroad. But these stories, while inspiring, often serve as comforting exceptions rather than evidence of progress in a society that remains deeply patriarchal and where the value of a woman is still too often measured in terms of obedience, control and silence. The brutal murder of Bano Bibi in Balochistan was horrific enough. But what truly chilled the national conscience was the justification that followed. It didn’t come from a radical preacher or a violent vigilante; it came from her own mother, who not only condoned the murder but blamed her daughter for her fate. That a mother could be socialised into accepting the killing of her child in the name of ‘honour’ is a devastating indictment of how deeply misogyny is embedded in our society.

Barely had the nation begun to process this tragedy when another horrifying case emerged: the death of 19-year-old Shanti, who died after being brutally raped by her husband. She remained in a coma for over a week before succumbing to her injuries. Her story, like countless others, points to a reality most Pakistanis refuse to acknowledge: the widespread prevalence and social acceptability of marital rape. That a husband can inflict such cruelty on his wife and expect to escape punishment reflects the impunity afforded to abusers. This is not a string of isolated incidents but a well-defined pattern. The Society of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists Pakistan recently sounded the alarm over rising violence against women, warning that it is contributing to deteriorating maternal health. Young brides often face abuse in silence, too frightened to seek help, too ashamed to tell their stories and too unsupported by the system that is supposed to protect them. Shelter homes are unsafe, police protection is spotty and justice – if it comes at all – is agonisingly slow and riddled with loopholes.

The root of this crisis lies not just in individual acts of violence but in a collective mindset that denies women agency, autonomy and personhood. In a society where a woman’s free will is still viewed as rebellion, where her right to choose is framed as dishonour and where even her mother might justify her murder, there can be no real justice. We need to stop congratulating ourselves for the handful of women who manage to thrive despite these odds and start confronting the much larger, more terrifying truth: Pakistan remains a deeply unsafe and unequal place for most women. We need more than laws. We need education, accountability and a societal reckoning with the toxic honour codes and misogynistic traditions that continue to fuel these horrors. The memory of Bano Bibi and Shanti should not be allowed to fade into another bleak news cycle. They should haunt us until something changes.