Acid Attacks

It was a quiet evening in Lahore when Zara stepped out of her university gates. She had just finished her last exam — a final step before beginning her internship at a design firm. Her eyes sparkled with ambition, and her heart beat fast with dreams. She didn’t know that someone else had been watching her — someone who couldn’t stand the fact that she had said “no” to his proposal. A man who believed her refusal deserved punishment.

In a split second, her world changed. A splash, a scream, and then silence. What touched her skin wasn’t water. It was acid — corrosive, calculated, and full of hate.

The Face of Violence

Zara’s story is not unique. Around the world, particularly in South Asia, hundreds of women are victims of acid attacks each year. These attacks are rarely random. They are often carried out by someone the victim knows — a rejected suitor, a jealous family member, or even a controlling husband.

But acid attacks are not just acts of violence. They are weapons of control. The attacker doesn't just want to hurt the victim — he wants to erase her identity, destroy her face, and silence her spirit. It is not about love, or even revenge. It is about power. The message is clear: “If I can’t have you, no one will.”

The Hidden War on Women

In conservative societies, women who make independent choices — to study, to work, to say no — are often seen as a threat to patriarchal control. Acid becomes a tool to discipline these “rebellious” women. It is cheap, accessible, and deadly. In many countries, a bottle of acid costs less than a cup of tea.

The law often fails them. Many attackers go unpunished. Victims, meanwhile, suffer silently — not only from the physical pain but from the emotional and social isolation that follows. Their faces become symbols of shame, when in fact they are symbols of survival.

A Mirror That No Longer Reflects

Zara spent months in a hospital. She underwent six surgeries. The doctors tried to reconstruct her face, but the scars remained. Every time she looked into the mirror, she was reminded of the man who wanted to erase her.

“I felt like I was no longer human,” she once said during a TV interview. “People would look away. Even my relatives stopped visiting. It was like I had died, but my body didn’t know it yet.”

She tried to hide her face. At times, she even wished the acid had taken her life. But then something within her began to change. She realized that if she didn’t speak up, others would suffer in silence — just like she had.

Rising from the Ashes

Today, Zara runs an NGO that supports acid attack survivors. She helps them get surgeries, psychological support, and most importantly — a voice. “They wanted to silence me. Now I speak louder than ever,” she says.

Her organization also pushes for stronger laws. In some regions, acid is still sold without regulation. Courts often drag for years before delivering justice. Victims need not just medical help but legal protection, financial support, and social reintegration.

The Deeper Wound: Society’s Silence

Perhaps the worst part of acid attacks is not the acid itself — it’s the silence that follows. The whispered judgments. The victim-blaming. The “what was she wearing?” or “why did she provoke him?” questions.

Control disguised as punishment doesn’t exist in isolation. It’s nurtured by cultures that teach women to shrink, to obey, to stay silent. Until we confront these toxic roots, the acid will keep burning — not just flesh, but futures.

A Call to Conscience

Zara’s face is different now. It carries the marks of pain, but also the map of courage. Her story reminds us that acid attacks are not just personal crimes — they are societal failures. Every time we stay silent, look away, or fail to act — we allow another bottle to be filled.

But change is possible. It begins with awareness, with education, with listening to survivors, and changing the narrative. No woman should have to suffer because she chose to live life on her own terms.

Because true beauty is not in the face — it’s in the fire of those who survive, rise, and reclaim their voice.