The narrative of blaming victims: Public trials of femicide victims

This last week has been gloomy and haunting, particularly for women. It was the final week in Nira Ashraf’s, Iman Irshaid’s Lubna Mansour’s, and Raneen Salees’ lives. They were kind souls that lived in a world that was not so kind to them. اضافة اعلان

Their killers were emboldened and encouraged by the inexcusable culture of impunity and lack of accountability which led to their murders in the span of one week, in a quiet chill-inducing tumbling effect.

As women’s death toll continues to climb, it is time to talk about the one incomprehensible issue: victim blaming.

Social media have been a useful instrument in mobilizing against these crimes; they have also served to expose the grotesque misogyny that characterizes a significant part of our society where men and women continue to blame the victims for the atrocities that befall them and wonder what victims could have done differently in order to prevent a crime from happening, and in doing so, imply that the victim, rather than the perpetrator, is to blame.

Social media discussions demonstrated how quickly we, as a culture, judge and then blame the victims. The more egregious the injustice, the stronger the temptation to defend it by placing the responsibility on the victim.

The misogyny and patriarchy behind the victim blaming and shaming were taken to another level and turned into a public trial of the aggrieved victims when anonymous people from behind the screens felt they were God’s emissaries on earth, serving as judges and executioners, bashing, smashing, and verbally abusing.

The blamers obviously disregard the long-lasting repercussions of their traumatic, derogatory, remarks on the families of the victims. Along with the unimaginable and untold emotional and psychological suffering brought on by the sudden death of a loved one, grieving, and seeking justice, parents and families also endured the ignorant public trial of the victims’ characters, lifestyles and choices. Not to mention the double standards victim blamers stand behind. Who can say to men who fear being falsely accused of sexual harassment, let alone murdered, that maybe they should just stay home and not put themselves in dangerous situations where they can be vulnerable? That no accusation would be thrown their way if they did not go out or walk alone at night where women might, mistakenly, think they are predators? That they might, also, want to dress more conservatively so that they do not appear more threatening to women?

Silence is complicity, and we can all take action and stand against both femicide and victim blaming by keeping a check on our attitudes, the way we raise children and the policies we support in our communities, and by countering the idea that men and boys can obtain power through violence and entitlement.

While women are used to the subtle victim blaming most of the time, this week’s brutal femicides have shown the shocking, overt, face of victim blaming; killing the victims twice, once in life and once in death. The public assassination of womanhood sparked self-righteous rage amongst the decent and the sane who disavow these dysfunctional systems of interaction we have put in place long ago.

It is words like “boys will be boys”, “she was not dressed modestly”, “women say no when they mean yes” that are pervasive and irrelevant. Their meaning is embedded in the way we think, speak, and behave in the world. While the contexts may differ, this social environment allows sexual violence and femicide to be normalized and justified, fueled by the persistent gender inequalities. Naming it is the way to dismantle it.

Silence is complicity, and we can all take action and stand against both femicide and victim blaming by keeping a check on our attitudes, the way we raise children and the policies we support in our communities, and by countering the idea that men and boys can obtain power through violence and entitlement.

Know enough to call the bluff, redefine your principles through self-reflection and community conversations. Take notice of your language as it is one of the most embedded facades in cultural narratives: choose what phrases to leave behind, and consider the blame game played against victims.



This is to remember all the women who were victims of femicide whether we know their names or not. Whether they are from a different country, region, continent or not. We remember Ahlam, Israah Gharib, Pınar Gültekin, all the women who preceded them, and pray no more will follow.

Women live among perpetrators of crimes, not knowing a thing about them. Women deal with them without recognizing them for the monsters they are. Every woman in this life operates under the assumption that she is the potential victim of a crime that has not yet occurred. It may happen one day and it may never happen. What are we to do? Not even martial arts and self-defense classes can stop bullets or people’s preconceived judgments. Are we bound to sit by the chimney until we die? But then, countless women were killed next to that chimney, within the safety of their homes.


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