Respect Women — Not Because They’re Mothers or Sisters, But Because They’re Women

What does it say about a society when a woman must be someone’s mother, sister, or daughter to be worthy of respect?
When a man mistreats a woman, we don’t question his morals — we question his attachments: "What if that were your sister?" This is not respect; it’s emotional manipulation. It ties a woman’s dignity to her relationship with a man, making her humanity conditional.

From street harassment to policy debates, women are often reframed as someone’s mother, wife, or daughter to justify their protection. The underlying message? A woman’s worth isn’t intrinsic — it’s relational. Her dignity depends on how she reflects the men around her.

But why must she be reduced to someone’s anything at all?

This mindset isn’t just outdated; it’s harmful. It limits womanhood to familiar roles that men can relate to, leaving out those who don’t fit into these boxes. Does a woman, independent of these relations, deserve any less respect? The answer should be no. Respect should be for who she is, not who she is to someone else.

In patriarchal societies, respect for women is not granted as a fundamental right; it is given selectively, often based on how a woman is related to a man. A woman’s identity is rarely seen as independent — she is viewed in terms of whose daughter she is, whose wife she is, or whose mother she might become.

Take the example of street harassment. When someone catcalls a woman, the most common reaction — even from bystanders — is not moral outrage at the violation of her dignity, but an attempt to ‘correct’ the harasser with: “What if someone did that to your sister?”

This reveals a disturbing mindset: the idea that a woman must belong to a man in some way to be treated with respect. Without that emotional or relational anchor, she’s often reduced to an object or outsider — undeserving of basic decency. Many people assume that the best way to teach men to respect women is to make it personal — by asking them to imagine a female relative in the victim’s place. This is often seen in campaigns, courtroom arguments, or public shaming.

While this approach may stir some guilt, it does not actually build empathy. Instead, it encourages men to develop compassion only when they can relate to a woman’s experience. A woman who doesn’t remind them of their sister, mother, or wife becomes harder to sympathize with.

For instance, a man may be enraged if his sister is body-shamed, but he may laugh at — or even participate in — the same behavior when it targets a stranger on social media. His empathy is not moral; it is limited by emotional proximity. And that is not ethics — that is entitlement.
Cultural narratives often trap women between two extremes: the divine and the degraded. Women are put on a pedestal as goddesses, mothers, or symbols of national honour — but the moment they exercise autonomy, speak freely, or challenge norms, they are quickly pulled down and branded immoral or dangerous.

Consider how rape survivors are treated. A married woman with children may be pitied more and believed faster than a single, outspoken woman. Society is more willing to empathize with women who match the ‘respectable’ image — soft-spoken, homely, maternal. Those who don't fit this image often find their trauma questioned, or worse, dismissed.

This binary mindset — that a woman is either “pure” and respectable or “promiscuous” and dismissible — leaves no room for women to be human: complex, flawed, and still worthy of dignity.
When society tells men to “protect” their mother, sister, or wife, the language often seems noble. But in reality, this notion of protection frequently morphs into control. The focus is not on empowering women to protect themselves or live freely — but on making sure their behaviour stays within the limits that protect male honour.

For example, a brother might prevent his sister from going out at night, not because he trusts her judgment, but because he fears “what people will say.” This is not respect — it is social policing, disguised as care.

This mindset teaches men that their role is not to treat women as equals, but to guard them like property. The more “honourable” a woman is perceived to be, the tighter the leash.
Society doesn’t treat all women equally — it ranks them. A woman who dresses conservatively, speaks softly, and conforms to gender roles is seen as “good” and deserving of respect. Meanwhile, a woman who speaks assertively, challenges authority, or expresses sexual agency is often branded as “bad” and treated with suspicion or scorn.

This is why women who are activists, artists, or outspoken feminists face disproportionate backlash online. They are not seen as sisters or mothers — they are seen as threats to the status quo. And because they don’t fit the mold of the “ideal woman,” many feel entitled to attack or humiliate them.

This moral hierarchy teaches men that they can pick and choose who deserves respect — a mindset that undermines the very concept of universal dignity. From a young age, boys are taught to protect the women in their family to maintain family honour. But they are rarely taught to question systems of gender inequality, to challenge power structures, or to understand the internal lives of women.

This means that many men grow up with a sense of protectionism, not feminism. They want to be the “good guy” in the room, but their behavior is often performative. They open doors for their female coworkers, but laugh at rape jokes. They tell their mothers not to work too hard, but never question why they aren't doing the housework themselves.

Their morality is about how they appear, not who they truly are. Finally, we must ask: what happens when a woman is not a mother, not a sister, not someone’s daughter — but just herself? A woman with no familial or emotional connection to the man in front of her?

In too many cases, she is invisible — or worse, vulnerable.

Women who don’t “belong” to anyone are often viewed as easier targets for abuse. Think of migrant workers, sex workers, or unmarried women living alone — they face violence and exclusion precisely because society has not assigned a man to “own” or “protect” them.

This shows that the problem is not lack of awareness. It’s a lack of recognition — the refusal to see a woman as a complete human being unless she is absorbed into a man’s story. So we must ask again: Why must a woman be your mother or sister to deserve respect? Why must we appeal to guilt and ownership for men to behave decently?

This mindset not only demeans women — it limits men. It robs them of the ability to develop deeper empathy, ethical reasoning, and true respect.

We need a cultural shift. A new morality that does not rely on emotional tricks but on ethical clarity. One that does not say, “What if she were your sister?” but instead teaches: “She is not your sister. She is someone. And that is enough.”

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