Do you remember Zainab? Of course, you do. The little girl from Kasur who was brutally raped and murdered by her own uncle-her own family. Protests erupted. Candlelight vigils were held. We were all outraged, weren’t we? We swore this would never happen again. But here we are, years later, drowning in even more brutality. Rape has become so normalized that unless a case like Zainab’s manages to tug at our already desensitized hearts, it barely makes a ripple. We’ve become a country where rape culture flourishes, where the victim is shamed, and the criminal walks away free. Let’s not sugarcoat it. Pakistan is a haven for rapists, and our collective silence has allowed this culture to metastasize.
On International Women’s Day this year, the Sustainable Social Development Organization released a gut-wrenching report. The numbers? Terrifying. A staggering 10,201 cases of violence against women were registered under sections 354 and 509 of the Pakistan Penal Code-a 14.5% increase from last year. Let that sink in. While we’re out here lighting candles, these monsters are lurking in the shadows, striking again. And Punjab? The so-called heart of Pakistan? It tops the list, with 1,464 cases reported in Lahore alone, closely followed by Sheikhupura and Kasur.
Every 45 minutes, a woman in Pakistan is raped. Yes, you read that right. Every 45 minutes. Up to 6,624 rape cases were registered in 2023. Faisalabad, Lahore, and Sargodha lead this horrifying race to the bottom of humanity, but let’s not fool ourselves into thinking this is limited to a few cities. This sickness runs deep, and the entire nation is complicit in its silence. While 626 women were kidnapped, 120 were killed in the name of “honor”, and 20 trafficked-yes, trafficked-where is the outcry? Where is the justice?
But does any of this surprise you? Let’s be honest. How many times have we heard people say, “Oh, she was asking for it,” or “Why was she out late?” after hearing about a rape case? How often have we seen the blame shifted to the victim, as if the crime was somehow her fault? This is the foundation of rape culture-a mindset that excuses, normalizes, or trivializes sexual violence. Why is it that in a country where we so easily pass laws on paper, those very laws are barely implemented? Pakistan passed its anti-rape and anti-honor killing bills in 2016, and we thought, for a brief moment, that maybe, just maybe, justice would be served. The law mandates mandatory DNA testing and imposes the death penalty for raping minors and disabled persons. Custodial rape by government officials is punishable by life imprisonment. Yet, here we are, eight years later, with not a single rapist of a minor executed. Not. One.
Do you know why? Because we live in a country where the rapist is protected more than the victim. We have countless examples of this. Take the Motorway rape case of 2020, where a woman was raped in front of her children on a major highway. What did we do? We blamed her for being out late, for driving alone. The Lahore police chief at the time asked why she was traveling without a male companion. Instead of holding the rapists accountable, we scrutinized the victim. We shamed her.
Let’s not forget Noor Mukaddam, a name that should haunt every one of us. Noor, a 27-year-old woman, was brutally tortured, raped, and decapitated by her so-called friend Zahir Jaffer in the heart of Islamabad, in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Pakistan. This wasn’t just a crime; it was an atrocity that laid bare the systemic rot in our society. Zahir, a man of privilege, thought he could get away with it. And why wouldn’t he? In a country where rapists roam free, where justice is often swayed by influence and money, men like Zahir feel untouchable. The public outrage was immense, the court proceedings were followed by millions, yet even with clear evidence, the delay in justice was agonizing. . What was the first reaction? Why was she there? Why wasn’t she dressed more modestly? And just like that, the focus shifted from the crime to the victim’s behavior, her clothing, and her presence. This is rape culture-when we question the victim before the criminal.
Let’s talk about the Punjab College incident. The horror is fresh, and the details even more sickening. A 16-year-old girl is left fighting for her life in the ICU. She isn’t a statistic-she is a person, a young girl who went to school to learn, not to be another casualty in this war on women. And yet, what has been done? 200 rape cases in Lahore in recent months, and not a single rapist has been given the death penalty. Not one. We have laws, we have systems, yet here we are, our hands tied while the rapists walk free. Why? Who are we trying to protect?
The rapists, obviously. Because this isn’t about just one incident. This is about the systematic protection of men who commit these crimes. It’s about schools, institutions, and authorities that sweep these incidents under the rug to protect their “reputation” while leaving victims to suffer in silence. My heart aches with disappointment for Shaherbano Naqvi, a once-respected voice who chose silence when her voice could’ve moved mountains. Shaherbano, you could’ve stood for the truth, for every young girl in that college, but you chose to protect the perpetrators instead.
My question to the authorities is simple: Do you believe in the existence of God? If you do, how can you sleep at night? How can your conscience allow you to protect these animals? Your inaction, your silence-does it not shake your soul? You side with the brutes and leave us, the women of this nation, to fend for ourselves. You are as guilty as those rapists. And for what? To protect an image? To protect reputations? The Punjab Group of Colleges has decided its reputation is worth more than the life and dignity of its students. And I say this with utter disgust and disappointment.
This isn’t just about Punjab College. It’s about every corner of this country where women and children are being abused, violated, and silenced. It’s about the 14-year-old girl who was raped by her stepfather in Karachi and told by police to “forgive him because he’s family.” It’s about the five-year-old who was found in a ditch after being raped and murdered in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. It’s about the hundreds of women in rural areas who are married off to their rapists to save “honor,” or worse, to settle feuds.
This isn’t just about one criminal. This is about us. Our society. Our silence. Every time we stay silent, every time we choose to protect the reputation of the abuser instead of seeking justice for the victim, we are contributing to the perpetuation of this rape culture. Every time we ask, “What was she wearing?” or “Why was she out late?” instead of “Why did he rape her?” we are part of the problem.
We cannot stop talking about this. We cannot allow our voices to be drowned out by complacency, by fear, by the desire to avoid “drama.” We cannot let rapists and their enablers sleep peacefully while women across this country live in fear. Keep talking. Even if your voice shakes, even if you’re tired, keep talking. Take to the streets. Take to social media. Don’t let them silence us. Demand justice for every woman who has suffered, for every child who has been violated, for every family torn apart by this epidemic. Don’t stop until the laws that exist on paper are enforced in real life-until rapists face public execution and fear the consequences of their brutality.
No man has the right to take away a woman’s dignity, to destroy her soul, to shatter her life. And no woman should live in fear in her own country.
This isn’t just a cry for justice-it’s a war against a culture that glorifies violence against women and lets monsters walk free. We owe it to the victims to fight and we owe it to ourselves.
