Her Body Is Not Your Honour

In too many corners of the Middle East, a woman walks through life carrying not just her own reputation, but the reputation of her entire family, community, even tribe, on her body.

Not on her achievements.
Not on her intellect.
Not on her dreams.
But on her body, how she dresses, where she goes, who she’s seen with, whether her virginity is “intact,” whether she speaks too freely, whether she smiles at the wrong time, whether she says no.

Honour is not something she earns.
It’s something they take from her, and claim as their own.

Let’s Call It What It Is: Obsession.

Society claims it’s protecting women.
What it’s really doing is controlling them, through an obsession with sex cloaked in the language of “honour.”

If she wears something revealing, she must be asking for attention.
If she stays out late, she must be doing something dirty.
If she lives alone, she must be sleeping around.
If she laughs in public, dances, travels, breathes too loudly, her “value” is in question.

She is no longer pure.
No longer respectable.
No longer worthy.

Because in this twisted logic, a woman is only as valuable as the assumptions made about what she does, or doesn’t do, with her body.

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Her Body Becomes Everyone’s Business. Except Hers.

She doesn’t get to own her image.
She doesn’t get to define her reputation.
She doesn’t get to exist freely, without being interpreted, sexualised, moralised, criminalised, by everyone else.

The moment she claims agency over her own body, the moment she says, “This is mine, not yours”, she becomes dangerous.
Cheap.
Immoral.
Unmarriageable.

But a woman who’s silent, obedient, invisible, who folds herself small and stays inside, she’s pure.

She’s the good one.

She is suffocating, but at least she is “honourable.”

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What Kind of Honour Is That?

What kind of culture places a family’s reputation inside a girl’s hymen?
What kind of logic ties morality to modesty but excuses violence, gossip, and male entitlement?
What kind of honour only survives if a woman is silent, shamed, and scared?

When a man rapes a woman, her reputation is destroyed — not his.
When a woman chooses to speak, to love, to live — her family feels dishonoured, not empowered.
When a woman breaks free from the suffocating expectations, they say she’s too Western, too wild, too free.

But what they really mean is: too unowned.

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Honour Is Not in Her Body. It’s in Her Humanity.

Real honour is raising daughters who know they belong to themselves.
Real honour is teaching boys that respect is not conditional on control.
Real honour is protecting a woman’s right to choose, not punishing her for it.

And real shame?
It’s not in her jeans, her makeup, her dancing, or her decisions.
It’s in the hands of those who judge her, harass her, stalk her, slut-shame her, beat her, and call it love.

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To Every Girl Tired of Being Watched, Judged, and Reduced to Her “Purity” — You’re Not Alone.

You are not a symbol.
You are not a vessel for family pride.
You are not a walking, talking object of shame or restraint.

You are a whole human being.
With a body that belongs to no one but you.
With honour that lives in your character, not your virginity.
With freedom that is yours by birthright, not by permission.

Enough is enough.
We are done tying a woman’s worth to the size of her dress, or the silence of her voice.
This culture of policing women under the name of “honour” is not protection.
It’s oppression.
And it ends with us.