They call it “honor” —
When a girl is beaten for falling in love.
When a woman is murdered for choosing her partner.
When a daughter is locked away for wearing the wrong clothes.
Honor is the noose.
Society is the executioner.
And women are the bodies left swinging.
What kind of culture ties its morality to a woman’s silence?
What kind of tradition finds pride in a girl’s grave?
They tell her to obey — because “family comes first.” But family becomes a cage when it demands obedience over freedom.
They do not ask the son where he goes, who he sleeps with, or why he stays out all night. But they monitor the daughter like a criminal on parole.
Not to protect her —
To control her.
Because the idea of a woman who owns herself terrifies them more than war.
This is not about values.
This is about violence dressed in the language of virtue.
And the worst part?
Much of this cruelty is committed not by strangers, but by mothers, fathers, brothers — in the name of love.
But love does not kill.
Love does not shame.
Love does not surveil every breath.
If your honor depends on her silence,
If your pride depends on her pain,
If your values require her obedience —
Then your values are worthless.
We do not want your protection.
We want our freedom.
Let them call it rebellion.
Let them call it dishonor.
Let them call it disgrace.
We will wear those words like medals — because they mean we are alive, unowned, and finally, free.
