When Will We Stop Blaming Women for Rape?

DID SHE REALLY ASKED FOR IT! 

The voice for every girl they tried to silence! 

A candy is always blamed for being unwrapped— 
never the insects that swarm toward it. 
No one questions their hunger, their filth, 
their need to rip through something sweet and soft 
just to satisfy their disgusting cravings. 

Is it always her fault? The whispered accusations about her dress, her voice, her steps into the night… 
When a woman is raped or abused, society splits into four: 

It’s always her “fault.” Until it'snot. 

When modesty wasn't enough 

Zainab Ansari (Kasur, 2018) 

A 7-year-old girl, fully clothed, wearing simple traditional dress, heading to Quran class. She disappeared on January 4, 2018. Her tortured body was found days later. 
The outcry was national—but some still asked: Why was she even out? A child. 

The “Motorway Incident” (Lahore, 2020) 

A mother of three stopped for fuel after midnight with her kids. Gangs attacked, raped her in front of them. Police chief Umar Sheikh didn’t yell at the rapists—he blamed her for driving alone. 
He said no one would “allow their daughters” to be out so late, hinting it was her mistake. 

Shazia Khalid (Sui, 2005) 

A respected doctor working alone in a gas plant — masked intruder raped her in her quarters. Instead of support, she faced house arrest, interrogation, destroyed evidence. Her own family almost punished her for “bringing shame.”  

Safia Bibi (Sahiwal, 1982) 

A nearly blind teenage domestic worker was raped by her employers. But in court, SHE was punished for “fornication,” sentenced to jail, caning, fine. The rapists walked free. That was victim-blaming in law. 

Mukhtar Mai (Southern Punjab, 2002) 

Ordered by a tribal council to be gang‑raped in “honor” revenge—she turned her sentence into resistance. She built a school, found her voice, yet still faced constant whispers about her behavior and honor. 

Kainat Soomro (Mehar, 2007) 

At 13, gang‑raped after being drugged. The community branded her “kari” (dishonored). Her family was threatened. The court threw out the case, saying her testimony wasn’t enough.  

These are only the prominent cases. There are thousands of rapes and harassments happens against women not only in Pakistan but all over the world. 

That toxic mindset: 

Rape is not a reaction to a woman’s dress, her smile, her walk, or the hour she stepped outside. It is not caused by jeans, lipstick, laughter, or late-night errands. Rape is caused by rapists—by men who choose violence, who ignore consent, and who act on entitlement, not instinct. Let’s get this straight: modesty does not grant immunity, and boldness does not grant permission. Women in abayas, school uniforms, even infants and elderly grandmothers have been raped—so stop pretending it's about fabric or freedom. No woman ever "asks for it." The only invitation to rape is the rapist’s own mindset, nurtured by a society that protects his honor more than her trauma. Until we stop blaming women, justice will remain a fantasy, and safety a privilege. 

If it's not women, then why this even happens? 

It’s power. It’s control. It’s a twisted hunger to dominate, to silence, to break. Rape isn’t about lust—it’s about making someone feel small while making yourself feel powerful. And in societies drenched in patriarchy, this sickness is enabled. When courts question the victim’s character, when families pressure her into silence, when police officers laugh off complaints, the real culprit isn’t just the man who committed the crime—it’s the whole system that protects him. From religious misinterpretations to cultural norms that glorify "honor" above humanity, everything is rigged against the woman. So no—it’s not her clothes. It’s the mindset. The silence. The impunity. The system. 

So, did she really ask for it? 

No. She didn’t. She never did. And she never will. The question itself is cruel, twisted, and soaked in centuries of victim-blaming that protects predators and punishes survivors. Every time we ask what was she wearing or why was she out, we push justice further away. We make space for silence, shame, and suffering. It's time to flip the script. Let’s stop interrogating the victim and start interrogating the culture that raised the rapist. Let’s teach boys accountability before girls modesty. Let’s stop saying “protect your daughters” and start saying “educate your sons.” Because the truth is loud and clear—she didn’t ask for it. He chose to do it. And until we face that, the cycle of violence will never end. 

"I was just trying to live — not to provoke, not to rebel, not to invite anything — just to exist freely, to breathe without fear, to walk without watching my back, to speak without being labelled, to dress without being judged... but even that was too much to ask in a world that sees my presence as a threat. I was just living... breathing... existing — and somehow, that was enough for the world to say I asked for it."