2021 marks the 30th anniversary of the UN global campaign 16 Days of Activism against gender-based violence and the theme this year focuses on femicide.
Femicide is generally defined as the murder of women because they are women. And so, thinking about femicide, we cannot forget those women who have been victims of honour killings and honour-based abuse.
It got me thinking about how nuanced this form of abuse is and how many young people might not know what honour-based abuse looks like. Even though I specialise in ending violence against women issues through my work at Amina-the Muslim Women’s Resource Centre, that doesn’t mean I have all the answers and I am by no means an expert. But the more exposure and experience I’ve gained, only highlights to me how important it is we talk about honour-based abuse.
Honour-based abuse results from a woman being perceived as bringing shame or dishonour to her family based on her acting against, or breaking a code of behavior, that women in her household or community must follow. As a result, she may be punished. It differs quite a lot from other forms of abuse like domestic abuse, because it can involve multiple perpetrators. For example, the punishment might be discussed by multiple people, including immediate and extended family members and even community members. Honour-based abuse is a way to control and punish women for their choices, to restrain and restrict them from living their lives, to exercise power and control over them.
It’s important that we don’t make any assumptions about honour-based abuse, nor that we stereotype any communities or ethnicities. It occurs across a wide range of ethnic groups and genders. However, what we do know is that it disproportionately impacts women, and particularly women from BME communities.
With a lack of statistics and evidence relating to honour-based abuse or honour killings, it often is hidden and therefore it is even more important that we as a society need to pay more attention. We need to reach more young people, to educate them so that they can identify honour-based abuse and so that they know what help is available to them, should they want it. We talk about it as a theory, a concept. But unless we show people in a tangible way what to look out for – the subtleties of it – we aren’t likely to understand it, pick up on it, nor see any positive change.
When I worked in schools, I often saw BME young people disengage slightly from discussions around healthy relationships. This could be because they felt the subject wasn’t relevant to them until they marry, or they couldn’t be seen to engage in those types of discussions, especially if they were in a relationship. There can be so much shame attached to romantic relationships that take place out with marriage. Being Pakistani myself, I never received adequate sex or relationship education at home. The most we received in school was “as a girl, you’ll have a period. And if you don’t have a period after having sex, it means you’re pregnant”. Then at home, we weren’t allowed to talk about it. I couldn’t even mention the word ‘period’ in front of my family, and it was considered shameful to talk openly about periods in front of the men in the household. In Urdu, there are several phrases to indicate you are on your period without saying the word. For example, some people would say that ‘guests have arrived’ rather than saying ‘periods’ in front of their mum, and there would be no mention of these ‘guests’ in front of their dad. Even during Ramadan, you can’t keep fasts if you’re on your period. And if you were seen to be eating in front of the men in the house, then that was a clear indicator that you were on your period. So, you had to hide the food you would eat while everyone else was fasting. With this level of shame attached to women’s health, it’s no wonder survivors don’t talk about abuse they’ve experienced or disclose to anyone around them.
Often in BME communities, sex or relationships aren’t allowed to be discussed, especially amongst women. Sex can be seen as a dirty and shameful thing to even allude to let alone talk about. And relationships are just something that you’ll understand and naturally navigate your way through when you get married. End of. No warning or education around abuse or gender-based violence. No information around what healthy, respectful relationships should look like and how to be a respectful partner yourself. Nothing whatsoever. And even though we’re in 2021, this is continuing. This harmful silence is still damaging young people. So, when this culture is something your surrounded with, how can a young person understand honour-based abuse, notice it when it happens or reach out for help? You can’t.
The importance for me in this work is to highlight to young people that services are there to support them, and that we understand. We understand the things that they know deep down but don’t know how to articulate. The things that they’ve never had the space or confidence to say. Honour-based abuse has such a coercive nature about it. Its centres around subtle forms of manipulation and abuse for families to ensure that person does what they are told. Just like when we talk about how an abuser doesn’t ‘look’ like what we imagine an abuser to look like, the same goes for honour-based abuse. It’s not always as cut and dry as we think it is. The control can be exercised through things like being called slut for wearing false nails, which was what happened to Shafilea Ahmed. Shafilea’s mum called her a slut for wearing false nails and dying her hair. Her parents killed her when she was 17 for refusing a forced marriage.
One other important difference to note about honour-based abuse compared to other forms of abuse, is that within such communities, there’s almost a network which enables and perpetuates the abuse. I mentioned that honour-based abuse involves multiple perpetrators, but what complicates this even further is that these networks can cross borders. Women have fled the abuse, and still been traced. They’ve been murdered by family friends or other members of the community as the hands of the abuser(s). Anita Gindha travelled from one end of the UK to the other to flee her family and a forced marriage, married someone she fell in love with and chose to marry and was still tracked down 2 years later and murdered by someone her family had hired.
These are all the things that make honour-based abuse so nuanced, which in turn makes it so important for us to be able to understand it, raise awareness about it and stand up for change. Eradicating the abuse may seem out of our reach but the first step to that is sharing this knowledge with others. With those at risk of suffering from it. With those who have the ability to help victims of it. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned whilst working in violence against women, it’s to never force information or support, but to guide and gently encourage. It’s to seek out and listen to lived experiences, rather than make assumptions, when we have no lived experience of it ourselves. It’s to meet survivors at their own level, at their own pace and truly support them, rather than just perpetuating the abuse again and again and assuming we know what’s best for them.
For this reason, Amina MWRC decided to host Say Her Name, a candlelight vigil to commemorate the victims of honour based killing on the last day of at the 16 days of action, Friday 10th December in Glasgow. Sadly, there will be women who don’t get accounted for, who’s deaths go missed as being honour based killings. But we wanted to raise awareness, tell some of these women’s stories in an exhibition and highlight the need for change. We’re lighting candles and having reflection and prayers for these women. They aren’t just a statistic; these are real women who have been killed in the name of ‘honour’. Find details of the event and a flyer here.
Rabia Roshan is a Violence Against Women and Girls Development Worker for Amina, the Muslim Women’s Resource Centre. Amina is an award-winning organisation, recognised by Muslim communities and key partners within Scotland for its pioneering and responsive approach to addressing key issues and needs of Muslim women. Their helpline service is open Monday to Friday, 10AM – 4PM on 0808 801 0301.
Rabia was part of the team of community groups that consulted on the creation of our new animated advert for Scotland’s Domestic Abuse and Forced Marriage Helpline. The advert has been created for and shaped by survivors of forced marriage – keep an eye out for its launch on Friday 10th December on our social media pages.
Some survivors face more barriers to seeking support – another reason to advocate for needs-based funding structures. This #16Days, join the Women’s Aid network across Scotland in calling to decision makers for change. Sign our open letter.
#SWA16Days
If you feel scared of your partner or if you are worried about someone you know, get in touch with Scotland’s 24 hour Domestic Abuse and Forced Marriage Helpline on 0800 027 1234 email helpline@sdafmh.org.uk or visit sdafmh.org.uk.
