Rabee Mershed Writes: The Sacrifices of Ignorance

We know that we may not offer or delay the references of this rigid, backward, brutal thought. But, at the same time, we cannot twist behind our worn-out names, our outdated beliefs and turn a blind eye to the major issues that penetrate us to the core. Those same issues that other societies have overcome long time ago, and that affect even the very ethics of our existence.

I’m here talking about “honour crime”, which is not honoured.
Thus, we had to discuss this thoroughly and simply revert to this basic term: “What is the definition of honour?” Honour, gentlemen, isn’t killing your sister on the pretext of washing shame, and you’re the one whose shame wraps him as blanket wraps a Premature Baby!!

Isn’t it a shame not to find your day’s sustenance? Isn’t it a shame for your son to get out of school to work for living, is it a great shame? Wasn’t your twisting about your country’s problems, as the ostrich drowns her head in the dirt a shame, but in another way? Wasn’t it a shame to look away from a woman eating from a dumpster? Your inability to reject the scourge of drugs? Your silence for kidnapping a young man or a girl as you sit down, and you say, “Brother, I can’t do anything, they have the gun, and the eye can’t resist the spear…” But at the same time, you don’t hesitate slaughtering your sister if she fell in love, on the pretext : washing shame.
what a shame!!

Spilled blood has always been humanity’s most shameful thing, and we all know, even if we don’t admit, but we know perfectly well, that murder has never been the answer; But it is the basis of the problem, There are many solutions that divert the brother from killing his sister that may have gone wrong, and perhaps not; But it simply manifests itself in the euphoria of bloodshed. Since the first girl who escaped with her chosen lover of her own will, the parents were able to drag her maliciously, return her to obedience to masculinity, then kill her and cover the walls with the blood of her hands, the walls screaming in silent pain; Did it stop there? It never stops and never will stop because love is always stronger than death.

Don’t kill your daughters or sisters, because their blood will follow you even in your nightmares, as well as your vigilance; Don’t kill them so honour doesn’t die in you, so that you become peaceful as the gravel washed in the moral waters of the river, which will shovel all your thoughts melted by history, or one day will melt them, and judge you even if you are dead.


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