Written by Ayesha Izhar. (My friend from Pakistan)

They have names for us.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

They have names for women who sell their bodies for sex.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

But there are no names for the men who have sex with them. They’re respectable men who go on with life without facing a dilemma.

They have names for women who get pregnant by having sex without being married and give birth to the child.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

They even have names for the child she bears.

𝐵𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑑. 𝑁𝑎𝑗𝑎𝑖𝑧, 𝐺ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑧. 𝐵𝑒𝑦𝑛𝑎𝑎𝑚.

But there are no names for the man that gets her pregnant and leaves her to deal with the society on her own.

They have names for you when you refuse to accept their advances. And they have acid to throw on your face when you refuse to marry them.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

They have names when you step out to support your family and names when you work your way up the ladder.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

Names for the women that are sex workers.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

But there are no names for the men who are their customers. Moulvi, Government employee, random respectable man who thinks it’s his right to get satisfaction in any way he wants.

It is haram to pray a 𝑇𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑓’𝑠 janazah.

Because she is a 𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

But the janazah of the men who pay them visits are grand ones, prayed by the best of moulvis who shower them with duas.

When we’re harassed and assaulted on the streets they say it was our fault for existing, and the clothes that we wear to entice men.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

But no names for the men who can’t keep their hands to themselves.

They rape little girls, force their families to abandon them, force the society to hate them, encourage men to never marry them then wonder why prostitution is the only livelihood they find.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

It’s like backing an animal in a cage with a gun and then telling everyone the hunted loves being in the shackles.

They have names for you when you speak too loud and speak your mind.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

Names when you refuse to be under their control.

𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒. 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑡.

But no names for their filthy hands with which they harass, assault, and choke you to silence for their two seconds of pleasure.

They have disgusting constructs of your virginity being sacred, of you carrying the honour of the entire family so that they can control you, but nothing that controls them or their unbound powers.

‘𝐈𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲’

When they want to insult other men they use disgusting words for us.

𝐵ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑑. 𝑀𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑑. 𝐵𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑘𝑎 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑎. 𝐺𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑖 𝑘𝑎 𝐵𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑎. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒.

Even if they have to insult a man they do so by insulting us first. Because apparently we are the ones that carry the izzat of the men associated with us. And raping us would be an insult to them and not to us.

Ager puray khandaan ki izzat itni hi qeemti hai toh shove it up your asshole.

Kyun k 𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐇𝐈 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐓.

The very language they created hates you. It's in the linguistics.

We have to rise way above it. Rise up to heights where they can't conquer us. Demand them to change their language or we will cut their tongues by their roots.

Because you don't know just how powerful we are.

Written by Ayesha Izhar.

Hence #AuratMarch