It Was Never Her Clothes So Why Do We Keep Asking?

There are moments that last only a few minutes, but somehow stay with you much longer.

A few weeks ago, I was on my way to university.

I got into my university van, and after the door closed, I suddenly realized that I was the only girl among several men.

Nothing had happened to me.

No one touched me.

No one said anything to me.

And yet, for those few minutes, I was terrified.

I became completely silent. My mind went blank. I kept looking around and thinking about what I would do if something happened. I remember feeling trapped inside those few minutes, waiting for them to end.

Fifteen minutes had never felt so long.

When I finally got out safely, I kept thinking about one thing:

If simply being alone among men for a few minutes could make me feel that afraid, what must a girl feel when something actually happens to her?

What happens inside a child who experiences something she does not even have the words to understand?

What happens to a woman who survives violence and then has to survive society's questions too?

And then came the question that hurt me the most:

Why do we keep asking what she was wearing?

When a girl or woman is sexually assaulted, people often ask:

What was she wearing?

Why was she outside?

Why was she alone?

Why did she go there?

Why did she talk to him?

Why did she trust him?

But when the victim is a child, what excuse do we have?

What was an eighteen-month-old baby supposed to do?

Choose a different dress?

Stay home?

Understand danger?

Protect herself from an adult?

A child cannot be responsible for an adult's decision to commit a crime.

And neither can a woman.

According to Sahil's 2023 report, 4,213 cases of child abuse were reported in Pakistani newspapers, including 2,251 girl victims. The report also recorded sexual abuse cases involving children under five. These figures represent reported cases, not every case that occurs, because many incidents never reach the authorities or the media.

Behind every number is a child.

A daughter.

A sister.

A family.

A life that deserved safety.

And sometimes, after surviving the crime itself, the victim has to face another kind of violence:

being blamed for what someone else chose to do.

We tell girls:

Don't go out alone.

Don't go out at night.

Don't trust strangers.

Cover yourself.

Be careful.

Watch where you go.

But how often do we tell boys and men:

Respect her boundaries.

Respect her body.

Learn what consent means.

No means no.

A woman's clothes are never an invitation.

A child's presence is never permission.

And someone else's body is never yours to violate.

We have spent so much time teaching girls how to avoid violence.

Perhaps it is time we spent more time teaching society how to stop creating it.

This is not only a women's issue.

It is not only a family issue.

It is not only a police issue.

It is a development issue.

Because a society cannot call itself safe or developed while girls grow up learning that fear is part of being female.

We need stronger child-protection systems.

We need safe and accessible reporting mechanisms.

We need survivors to receive medical, legal and psychological support.

We need schools and families to teach children, in age-appropriate ways, about boundaries, safety and speaking up.

We need institutions that respond quickly and fairly.

And most importantly, we need a culture that stops questioning the victim before questioning the perpetrator.

Because the question should never begin with:

“What was she wearing?”

It should begin with:

“Who did this, and why was he allowed to do it?”

When I stepped out of that van that day, I was safe.

Nothing happened to me.

But those fifteen minutes changed the way I think about the women and children whose fear does not end after fifteen minutes.

Some carry it for years.

Some lose their sense of safety.

Some stop trusting people.

Some stop going places alone.

Some stop speaking.

And some are forced to listen to society asking them what they did wrong.

They did not do anything wrong.

Their clothes did not commit the crime.

Their presence did not commit the crime.

Their age did not commit the crime.

Their trust did not commit the crime.

The perpetrator did.

So perhaps it is time for us to stop teaching our daughters how to live smaller lives because of someone else's violence.

Let girls walk.

Let girls study.

Let girls travel.

Let girls dream.

Let children grow up without learning that fear is the price of being a girl.

Because a truly safe society is not one where girls are taught to be afraid of the world.

A truly safe society is one where those who harm them are afraid of the consequences.

And maybe, just maybe, the next time we hear about a girl being assaulted, we should stop asking:

“What was she wearing?”

And start asking:

“Why was she not safe?”

“Where did our system fail her?”

“And what are we going to change so another girl does not have to live through the same nightmare?”

Because her safety should never depend on her clothes.

Her dignity should never depend on society's approval.

And her voice should never have to fight harder than her abuser.

#EndVictimBlaming

#ProtectGirls

#ProtectChildren

#SafePakistan

#Pakistan

#WomenAndGirls

#ChildProtection

#StopViolenceAgainstWomen

#StopChildAbuse

#JusticeForSurvivors

#HerVoiceMatters

#VoicesForChange

#WorldPulse

#Changemakers

#BreakTheSilence