10-YEAR-OLD TORTURED TO DEATH

We teach our daughters the importance of respecting elders, of obeying their fathers and husbands. But what happens when those very figures entrusted with their care become the instruments of their destruction?

The case of Sara Sharif, a bright-eyed 10-year-old girl in the UK, ripped from this world by the cruelty of her own family, exposes a horrifying truth – in some cultures, being a girl can be a dangerous proposition.

Sara’s story isn’t an isolated incident; it’s a symptom of a deeper malaise, a reflection of a mindset that views women as property, as subservient beings whose lives hold less value than those of men in this religion.

Sara Sharif suffered unimaginable horrors. 71 external injuries, 25 broken bones – a catalogue of torture inflicted over weeks, if not months. Burns, bite marks, a fractured hyoid bone suggesting strangulation.

These aren’t the injuries of a child who simply “fell down.” These are the marks of sustained, calculated brutality. And the chilling detail of her wearing a hijab to conceal the bruises speaks volumes, a desperate attempt to hide the truth, to maintain a façade of normalcy while a child was being systematically destroyed.

Her father, Urfan Sharif from Pakistan, claimed he “legally punished” her. Legally punished? What twisted interpretation of law or religion allows a father to inflict such barbarity on his own child?

What kind of belief system justifies such violence in the name of discipline or control? This isn’t discipline; it’s savagery. It is the ultimate betrayal of trust, a violation of the most sacred bond between parent and child.

And here lies the crux of the matter. This isn’t just about one monstrous man.

It’s about the cultural and religious frameworks that can, in some instances, create an environment where such atrocities can occur.

It’s about the insidious narratives that perpetuate the idea of female inferiority, that grant men dominion over women’s bodies and lives. It’s about the silence that surrounds these issues, the fear of challenging deeply ingrained traditions, the reluctance to “interfere” in family matters.

We hear whispers of “honour-based abuse,” a euphemism that attempts to cloak these brutal acts in a veneer of cultural respectability. But there is no honour in abusing a child. There is no honour in controlling a woman. There is only violence, oppression, and the destruction of human life.

The systemic failures in Sara’s case are equally damning. Social services were aware of previous allegations of violence against Urfan Sharif, yet he was still granted custody. How many red flags need to be raised before action is taken? How many children must suffer before we prioritise their safety over outdated notions of family privacy?

Sara Sharif’s case is a mirror reflecting a deeply troubling aspect of our world. It forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about gender inequality, cultural biases, and the systemic failures that allow such tragedies to happen.

It demands that we ask ourselves difficult questions: Are we doing enough to protect girls and women from violence? Are we challenging the narratives that perpetuate their oppression? Are we holding perpetrators accountable for their actions?

The light sentences handed down to some of those involved in Sara's death only compound the injustice. It sends a chilling message that violence against girls is not taken seriously enough, that their lives are somehow less valuable. It is a betrayal of Sara, and a betrayal of all girls who live under the shadow of such threats.

This isn’t about demonising any particular culture or religion. It’s about acknowledging the uncomfortable truth that harmful practices can exist within any community. It’s about demanding change, about challenging the mindsets that allow such violence to flourish. It’s about ensuring that no other little girl suffers the same horrific fate as Sara Sharif.

But more importantly, it's about empowering women. It's about dismantling the structures that keep them subservient. It's about challenging the religious texts, often written and interpreted by men, that preach female submission and obedience.

These texts, presented as divine law, have for centuries been used to justify the oppression and control of women. We must recognise them for what they often are: tools of patriarchal power, designed to maintain the status quo. Women deserve autonomy over their own bodies, their own lives, their own destinies.

They deserve a voice, a choice, and the full protection of the law. They deserve to be treated as equal human beings, not as property to be owned and controlled.

What would a woman do to a child in her care? She would protect them. She would nurture them. She would cherish them. She would give her life for them.

The stark contrast between this inherent maternal instinct and the unspeakable acts inflicted upon Sara Sharif is a testament to the profound and urgent need for change. We must speak out. We must challenge harmful traditions. We must protect our daughters. Because their lives depend on it.

The regressive elements found within some interpretations of Middle Eastern religions, particularly concerning the status of women, stem from a complex interplay of historical, cultural, and socio-political factors.

While these religions, in their centuries of patriarchal interpretations and societal structures have selectively emphasised passages that reinforce male dominance.

This has led to the development of cultural norms and legal systems that discriminate against women, restricting their autonomy, mobility, and access to education and economic opportunities.

The concept of male guardianship, for instance, often places women under the control of male relatives throughout their lives, effectively denying them agency over their own decisions.

Furthermore, the emphasis on female modesty and seclusion can contribute to a culture of victim-blaming in cases of sexual assault, as women are held responsible for preventing male "temptation."

These interpretations, often presented as divinely ordained, become deeply ingrained in the mentality of both men and women, perpetuating a cycle of inequality and hindering progress towards gender equality.

This creates a dangerous feedback loop where religious texts are used to justify discriminatory practices, which in turn reinforce regressive interpretations of those texts, solidifying the belief in women's inherent inferiority and perpetuating harmful stereotypes.