Call for strengthening justice: How can harassers be treated as heroes while women are bound by fear?

As I write this, I am still shaken. An eight-year-old girl is on life support after being raped—by a close relative, her fragile body bearing the unthinkable brutality she endured.

Before I can even process that horror, another headline flashes across my news feed: a girl with disabilities gang-raped in Cumilla. At this point, I can't help but wonder—could hell be any worse than what's happening in Bangladesh?

I think about shutting out the news, turning away from the endless cycle of brutality, pretending for a moment that things are fine. But then reality slaps me in the face—nothing is fine.

When I walk down the street, I brace myself for the inevitable. Maybe someone will appear out of nowhere to tell me to adjust my scarf. Maybe—in the worst case—someone will grope me in a crowd, and I'll be too stunned to react. Just the other day, I was sitting in a restaurant, trying to have my lunch, but all I could think about was the possibility of a self-righteous stranger storming in to interrogate me on why I wasn't fasting.

Because in Bangladesh, moral policing isn't an exception—it's the norm.

Some call it paranoia, but let me ask—is it really? Women live in constant fear, calculating every move, second-guessing their surroundings, wondering if they'll make it home without being followed, harassed, or assaulted. And that fear was validated yet again when a Dhaka University student was publicly humiliated—a man aggressively demanded that she "fix" her orna.

If that wasn't horrifying enough, what happened next was beyond comprehension.

The perpetrator—a bookbinder at the DU Central Library—was arrested and fired from his job. For a brief moment, it felt like justice. But justice is fragile in this country.

Within hours, an angry mob of self-proclaimed "Touhidi Janata" stormed Shahbagh Police Station—not to demand justice for women but to demand the release of the harasser. And just like that, he walked free. Not only that—he was welcomed like a hero, draped in flowers, holding up a Quran.

I felt physically sick. Is this what we have become? Is this how we treat harassers now? With garlands and glorification?

Later, I found out that this guy, the so-called "defender of morality" doesn't even follow the Islamic lifestyle himself. Neither does his wife. And yet, he took it upon himself to correct complete strangers on how they should dress. The hypocrisy is beyond baffling—it is infuriating.

But here's what's worse: This naïve man probably doesn't even understand that harassing a woman, policing her body, dictating her clothing, is not just unacceptable—it's harassment, full stop. And neither does the mob that defended him. I wonder, which version of "self-invented" Islam do these people follow, where harassing women is acceptable but standing up for them is a crime?

For a second, I tried to understand how the victim might be feeling right now after getting all the death and rape threats from complete strangers on internet. I couldn't.

There were calls for the removal of the home affairs adviser, whose failure to ensure women's safety had once again been laid bare. Women weren't just angry; they were exhausted. Tired of seeing their trauma turned into mere headlines. Tired of living in a country where harassers are celebrated while victims are shamed into silence. But let's be honest—has anything really changed?

Has the mindset of this country changed? Have we stopped blaming women for the violence committed against them? Have we stopped justifying harassment in the name of culture, religion, or "protecting" morality?

Because what good are protests when, tomorrow, another woman will be groped on a bus, another girl will be harassed at her university, another child will be raped by a "trusted" relative—and society will still find a way to ask, "What was she wearing?" or "Why was she out so late?"

If change were truly happening, women wouldn't be forced to carry pepper spray just to walk home. If change were happening, we wouldn't still be teaching girls how to avoid getting raped instead of teaching men not to rape. So, I'll ask again: has anything changed?

Or are we just waiting for the next tragedy to scream about—before we go silent again?

At this point, I'm exhausted. I don't care about the UN's empty praises about how Bangladesh has achieved "extraordinary milestones" in women's empowerment. I don't care about glossy reports boasting of gender equality.

Because the harsh truth is that none of it matters if women are still being raped, harassed, and killed—while their abusers walk free and are celebrated.

I don't want to hear about progress while the eight-year-old girl is fighting for her life.

How can I possibly wish everyone a Happy International Women's Day when, in this country, simply being a woman feels like a life sentence—a curse we never chose, yet are forced to endure every day?