ISLAMABAD
I have always found the sentence, “We respect women,” rather fascinating. Because in our society, even respect seems to come with terms and conditions. The rules are apparently simple, but somehow they change depending on who the woman is, what she is wearing, what family she belongs to, and most importantly, whether she is considered “ours.”
Some women are treated as precious. Some are judged more harshly. And some seem to be missing entirely from the official register of people deserving basic respect.
The difference is often not their character. It is their relationship to us.
I once travelled by train with my sister. Circumstances meant that we had to travel without our father and brothers, so we booked seats in the ladies compartment simply to avoid unnecessary inconvenience.
We do not cover our faces with a niqab, but that certainly does not mean we have no concept of modesty or boundaries. I am not exactly the sort of person who chats with strangers or turns every gathering into a social event. I am rather reserved, quiet and perfectly happy minding my own business.
Anyway, a group of women came and sat opposite us.
They were covered from head to toe in burqas, but the volume of their laughter and conversation suggested that the entire compartment had accidentally become their private living room.
They were accompanied by a man.
He had a beard, wore a short shalwar and a prayer cap. Judging purely by appearance, one might have thought, “Well, what a pious and respectable gentleman.”
There was just one tiny problem.
His eyes kept wandering towards us.
Then this wonderfully respectable gentleman picked up our bags, threw them down beside us, and began arranging his own family’s luggage in the overhead storage space.
We had a couple of shoulder bags and a small suitcase, so we simply kept them beside our seats. It was a five hour journey, and frankly, their constant chatter had already exhausted our patience. We had absolutely no interest in starting a luggage dispute on a moving train.
But the real comedy had not even begun.
As soon as the train started moving, our respectable gentleman ran off to buy juice and Lays, returning like a man feeding his favourite hens.
Then he gave us another strange look and remained nearby. Perhaps he was thinking,
“I really should have brought a burqa and travelled in the ladies compartment too.”
Later, the women removed their burqas.
Fair enough. It was a ladies compartment, after all. There was no particular reason for them to remain covered around other women.
But then, at almost every stop, some man would appear at the window, leaning in for conversation, jokes and laughter.
The volume was impressive. The language was even more impressive.
And the contrast between their appearance and their conversation was so dramatic that I genuinely wanted to ask,
“Who wrote this script?”
Then, about half an hour before our destination, the burqas came back. The niqabs came back. Suddenly everyone was once again perfectly modest, graceful and innocent.
And our respectable gentleman, who had spent most of the journey trying one way or another to create an interaction with us, went off on another important mission.
Our luggage was already safely beside us, so his assistance was not required.
Still, the effort was admirable. The success rate, however, was zero.
And here comes the funniest part.
Read Also: IT'S NOT ABOUT AGE, IT'S ABOUT MINDSET
These were all very respectable, decent and honourable people. Because they had respect. We, apparently, were another category altogether. And that is exactly where the real issue begins. We encounter little scenes like this all the time.
Someone proudly declares, “I respect women.”
Then, five minutes later, a mother or sister becomes the subject of a perfectly fluent insult.
Just stop for a second.
The woman whose name you are using as an insult is also a woman. She simply happens to be someone else’s mother, sister or daughter. And perhaps that is the simplest description of our problem:
Your woman is respected. Everyone else is up for discussion.
Your sister’s clothes?
Absolutely nobody is allowed to comment. Another girl wearing something you dislike? Suddenly everyone becomes a fashion critic, moral judge and character certificate distributor.
Someone looks at your wife? Outrage.
But staring at a girl walking down the street? Apparently that is harmless.
Your woman chooses to cover?
“Of course. She understands the importance of our honour.”
Another woman chooses not to?
“Well, if she is not covering, why should I control my eyes?”
What a fascinating piece of logic.
Apparently modesty is everyone else’s responsibility, while self control is optional.
Then the same pattern appears at workplaces.
Women are judged for what they wear, how they speak, how loudly they laugh, whom they talk to and how friendly they are.
Men tease one another, make comments about women and discuss their appearances.
And somehow, at the end of it all, someone still announces,
“We really respect women.” No.
You do not necessarily respect women.
You respect the women you personally consider yours.
And those are two completely different things.
Real respect is not tested when the woman standing in front of you is your mother, sister, wife or daughter.
Almost everyone knows how to behave then.
The real test begins when the woman in front of you has no relationship with you, owes you nothing, cannot benefit you, does not dress according to your preferences and is completely outside your control.
If you can still keep your eyes, your tongue and your behaviour respectful then, perhaps you genuinely understand respect.
Otherwise, protecting your own women while judging every other woman is not respect.
It is simply favouritism dressed up as morality.
And there is something particularly strange about making a woman’s dignity dependent on her clothes.
If a woman wears a full burqa, does that automatically make her more worthy of respect?
And if another woman chooses not to cover, does that somehow make her less worthy of basic human decency? Of course not.
Modesty can be a religious choice. It can be a personal value. Different people will make different choices.
But basic human respect should not be conditional upon clothing.
Otherwise, the real problem is no longer the woman’s clothes.
It is our own gaze and our own thinking.
What makes this even more ironic is that some people who are extremely strict about women’s clothing seem to give their own language a complete exemption from the same moral standards.
Someone proudly declares, “I respect women.”
Then, five minutes later, a mother or sister becomes the subject of a perfectly fluent insult.
Just stop for a second.
The woman whose name you are using as an insult is also a woman. She simply happens to be someone else’s mother, sister or daughter. And perhaps that is the simplest description of our problem:
Your woman is respected. Everyone else is up for discussion.
Your sister’s clothes?
Absolutely nobody is allowed to comment. Another girl wearing something you dislike? Suddenly everyone becomes a fashion critic, moral judge and character certificate distributor.
Someone looks at your wife? Outrage.
But staring at a girl walking down the street? Apparently that is harmless.
Your woman chooses to cover?
“Of course. She understands the importance of our honour.”
Another woman chooses not to?
“Well, if she is not covering, why should I control my eyes?”
What a fascinating piece of logic.
Apparently modesty is everyone else’s responsibility, while self control is optional.
Then the same pattern appears at workplaces.
Women are judged for what they wear, how they speak, how loudly they laugh, whom they talk to and how friendly they are.
Men tease one another, make comments about women and discuss their appearances.
And somehow, at the end of it all, someone still announces,
“We really respect women.” No.
You do not necessarily respect women.
You respect the women you personally consider yours.
And those are two completely different things.
Real respect is not tested when the woman standing in front of you is your mother, sister, wife or daughter.
Almost everyone knows how to behave then.
The real test begins when the woman in front of you has no relationship with you, owes you nothing, cannot benefit you, does not dress according to your preferences and is completely outside your control.
If you can still keep your eyes, your tongue and your behaviour respectful then, perhaps you genuinely understand respect.
Otherwise, protecting your own women while judging every other woman is not respect.
It is simply favouritism dressed up as morality.
And there is something particularly strange about making a woman’s dignity dependent on her clothes.
If a woman wears a full burqa, does that automatically make her more worthy of respect?
And if another woman chooses not to cover, does that somehow make her less worthy of basic human decency? Of course not.
Modesty can be a religious choice. It can be a personal value. Different people will make different choices.
But basic human respect should not be conditional upon clothing.
Otherwise, the real problem is no longer the woman’s clothes.
It is our own gaze and our own thinking.
What makes this even more ironic is that some people who are extremely strict about women’s clothing seem to give their own language a complete exemption from the same moral standards.
A woman wears something they dislike?
Judgement.
A woman laughs loudly?
Judgement.
A woman speaks to men?
Judgement.
A woman does not dress according to their expectations?
Another judgement.
But when the same person casually uses insults involving someone’s mother or sister?
“Oh, that is different.”
Of course it is.
Apparently their morality comes with a very convenient membership plan called:
Your woman is respected. Everyone else is up for discussion.
If we genuinely believe in respecting women, then the standard cannot be limited to the women we love, belong to, or feel responsible for.
Respect has to exist even when there is no personal connection.
Even when we disagree with someone’s choices. Even when we dislike their clothing. Even when they owe us absolutely nothing. You can disagree with a woman’s choices without humiliating her.
You can hold personal religious or cultural values without turning yourself into the judge of every woman around you.
And you can believe in modesty without believing that women who dress differently have somehow surrendered their right to dignity.
Because the true measure of a person’s character is not how respectfully they treat the women they call their own.
It is how they treat the women who are not theirs. Otherwise, our entire moral system can be summarised rather neatly:
Your woman is respected. Everyone else is up for discussion.
And then, with a completely straight face, we proudly announce,
“We respect women.”
The sentence says “women.”
The mindset says “our women.”
And that tiny difference explains a lot about the double standards we see around us every single day.
Respect should not be a privilege handed out according to relationships.
It should be a basic standard of human behaviour. Otherwise, it is not really respect at all.
It is simply special treatment for the people we claim, and judgement for everyone else.
Lalarukh Farooq is a media professional, analyst and Gold Medalist with an M.Phil. in Media Studies.
