The Weight of Family Honour

Family honour is a phrase that sounds noble. It sounds dignified. It sounds like something worth protecting. But for many girls and women, family honour is a burden - a currency - a cost paid with their freedom.

In my childhood, honour was everywhere and nowhere. It wasn’t spoken about directly, but it shaped decisions, expectations, and the invisible rules that governed our lives. It was the reason my father kept two wives. It was the reason tradition mattered more than individuality. It was the reason my future was decided without me.

Honour is often portrayed as cultural pride, but in reality, it can be a cage. It can be used to justify control, silence, and sacrifice. It can turn love into obligation and family into enforcers.

The weight of family honour nearly cost me my life. It cost me years of captivity. It cost me trust in the people who raised me. And even decades later, it is something I continue to unpack - not with bitterness, but with clarity.

Honour should never come at the expense of a child’s freedom. It should never be used to justify harm. And it should never be placed above a girl’s right to choose her own future.

Writing my memoir was a way of putting that truth into the world - and refusing to carry the weight of honour any longer.