The life and death of Qandeel Baloch

What one woman’s social media activism — and her murder by her own brother — means for Pakistan

Qandeel Baloch, Pakistan’s first female social media celebrity, who belonged to a working class rural family from the province of Punjab and had over 750,000 followers on Facebook alone, was strangled to death by her brother in what the police described as an “honor killing” last week.
Baloch’s exponential rise to fame began with her posting narcissistic selfies and videos in which she asks viewers how she is looking; she then entered the national consciousness by promising internationally acclaimed cricketer Shahid Afridi a striptease if he defeated India in a regional tournament. For Baloch, things took a dangerous turn when last month she dabbled in the political realm by exposing the religious clergy’s sexual perversions, which resulted in her receiving numerous death threats.
In the week proceeding Baloch’s murder if one glanced at Pakistan’s print and online media, it could be seen that while her life impacted the country in abstract ways, her subsequent death affected Pakistan in a potentially tangible manner.
While alive, Baloch celebrated her sexuality in a manner that was unprecedented for Pakistan – her impact stemmed from the fact that Baloch’s videos and selfies, and declarations of love and female desire made the country “uncomfortable.”
“Qandeel represented a deep paradox in our society because we want to control and regulate women’s bodies but at the same time we want to consume them,” explains Sarah Suhail, a doctoral student in women and gender studies at Arizona State University, to The Diplomat. “So the same people who judged and abused her simultaneously derived pleasure from her videos, and the same talk show anchors that vilified her, used her for their ratings,” said Suhail.
Baloch’s death may be long remembered by those fighting for justice in “honor killing” cases because in the wake of her death the government has, yet again, promised stricter laws regarding “honor killings.”
Additionally, the fact that Baloch’s murder is being investigated by a female police officer is no mean feat. Before the murder, Attiya Jaffri, the 52-year-old policewomen in charge of Baloch’s case, had never headed a homicide investigation.
“It’s common for the Central Police Officer to put at least one or two policewomen in the team that investigates ‘honor killings,’” said Jaffri to The Diplomat. “Because in honor- related cases we often need to engage with the mothers or sisters of the victims. But I’ve never before been made the Investigating Officer of a murder case.”
In her opinion she was trusted with this duty because currently her team has the best record of solving murder crimes in the district of Multan. She then adds that “this is no ordinary case. Baloch was a female celebrity murdered in a gruesome way and her killing has created a national wave of sorts, so maybe those in charge thought it best that a women head the case.”
Baloch, born with the name Fauzia Azeem, hailed from Shah Saddardin — a little-known village that only entered the national imagination after Baloch was buried there. By her own admission, and that of her parents, she belonged to a conservative family, that she herself supported. In the last year alone, Baloch bought her parents a house in Multan (the same house in which her brother drugged her and her parents and then strangled her while she slept), and financed a younger sister’s wedding.
The fact that Baloch did not come from privilege is one of the reasons she stands out. “Qandeel is a feminist in the original sense,” says academic Suhail. She explains that according to Baloch’s own narrative, in which she was a victim of an abusive marriage that she walked away from without any financial or emotional support, it can be seen that throughout her life Baloch had to fight the systems of patriarchy that prevented her from achieving her goal of “standing on her own two feet.”
Baloch’s feminism was also novel because she reclaimed online spaces for Pakistani women in an unprecedented manner.
“One of our missions is to teach females that a mobile phone is a tool and it can be used to destroy patriarchy,” says Nighat Daad, a lawyer and the founder of Digital Rights Foundation. “Qandeel did exactly that; she used her mobile phone to celebrate her sexuality.”
It should be noted that Baloch was not the only Pakistani woman to be deemed as “bold” by the media. There have been others before her: Mathira, Meera, Veena Malik, to name a few. But Baloch was different in that she was unapologetic and unabashed by people calling her out.
In a television interview earlier this year, a TV host asked Baloch why she “resorted to being vulgar.” She did not shy away from the question. “You need to watch my videos again,” Baloch challenged. “I don’t see any vulgarity in my videos. I think I look hot. And sexy.”
On the surface, it appears that it was this very celebration of sexuality that got Baloch killed. After all, her brother confessed that he committed the murder because Baloch brought “dishonor” and “disrepute” to the family.
Moreover, if the case does make it to court, it will be dealt with as a case of “murder in the name or pretext of honor.”
But researchers such as Suhail and Nabiha Meher, the founder of Pakistan Feminist Watch, who have been observing patterns of gender based violence in Pakistan, urge that this line of argument is too simplistic.
In Pakistan, and much of the neighboring region, gender based violence becomes (legally and culturally) palatable when put under the umbrella of crimes related to honor. “Society has created a justifiable category [honor killing] to place violence against women,” said Suhail.
The notion is that the moment women cross a transparent line where they challenge societal norms, their life is endangered.
“Until she was sharing videos proposing to Imran Khan or Shahid Afridi and asking her fans how she looked, it was all fun and games, but when she challenged the religious clergy and exposed the Mufti Qavi for what he is, her life changed drastically,” says Daad. “All of a sudden her anonymity ended, and her past and personal life was splashed on television screens across the country.”
Meher agrees: “Her death threats began after the episode with Qavi, after she took on the extreme markers of religion in the country.”
On June 20, Baloch released videos and selfies of her and Qavi inside a hotel room in Karachi. Local news channels invited Qavi and Baloch to appear on television to ask them what transpired between them. Qavi’s non-responses strengthened Baloch’s claim that she has exposed the “dirty cleric for what he is.” Qavi’s fellow clergymen did not approve of this and he was suspended from his coveted position in Pakistan’s religions moon-sighting committee.
Media critics say that such talk shows put Baloch’s life is further danger.
“It seems that we are living in the twilight zone of journalism,” says Suhail. “The media simply has no ethics.”
Unfortunately, Suhail’s claim is hardly far from the truth. Two weeks ago when Abdul Sattar Edhi, an international icon of social welfare, passed away, a local TV reporter prepared a news package on Edhi’s funeral from inside Edhi’s freshly dug grave.
Daad also claims that describing this murder as an “honor killing” is unfair.
“This was a killing because of a hurt male ego,” says Daad. “A mix of incidents led to this unfortunate death: the media’s treatment of Qandeel; the clergy played a role, especially the Mufti episode; the government that didn’t provide her security; and lastly, we, as internet users who enjoyed her but didn’t protect her.”
“Honor killings” are not exclusive to Pakistan, or even South Asia; according to the Honor Based Violence Awareness Network out of the 5,000 international “honor killings” every year, 1,000 can be ascribed to Pakistan.
It had been a longstanding demand of women’s rights groups for stricter laws to prevent such crimes. Hence the the Criminal Law Amendment Act 2005, which introduced “offenses in the name or on the pretext of honor” as a specific category of violence, was much lauded.
According to Asad Jamal, a lawyer engaged in drafting amendments to curb crimes committed in the name of honor, because of these amendments an “honor killing” must necessarily lead to a minimum punishment of 10 years of imprisonment or life imprisonment or death.
He tells The Diplomat that “the court has no option but to punish the offender and a waiver or compounding of the offense have no effect on the court’s decision.”
It appears, however, that lawyers, prosecutors, and even judges in the country do not understand the amendment.
    
    The Diplomat

The life and death of Qandeel Baloch

What one womans social media activism — and her murder by her own brother — means for Pakistan

Qandeel Baloch, Pakistans first female social media celebrity, who belonged to a working class rural family from the province of Punjab and had over 750,000 followers on Facebook alone, was strangled to death by her brother in what the police described as an honor killing last week. Balochs exponential rise to fame began with her posting narcissistic selfies and videos in which she asks viewers how she is looking; she then entered the national consciousness by promising internationally acclaimed cricketer Shahid Afridi a striptease if he defeated India in a regional tournament. For Baloch, things took a dangerous turn when last month she dabbled in the political realm by exposing the religious clergys sexual perversions, which resulted in her receiving numerous death threats. In the week proceeding Balochs murder if one glanced at Pakistans print and online media, it could be seen that while her life impacted the country in abstract ways, her subsequent death affected Pakistan in a potentially tangible manner. While alive, Baloch celebrated her sexuality in a manner that was unprecedented for Pakistan her impact stemmed from the fact that Balochs videos and selfies, and declarations of love and female desire made the country uncomfortable. Qandeel represented a deep paradox in our society because we want to control and regulate womens bodies but at the same time we want to consume them, explains Sarah Suhail, a doctoral student in women and gender studies at Arizona State University, to The Diplomat. So the same people who judged and abused her simultaneously derived pleasure from her videos, and the same talk show anchors that vilified her, used her for their ratings, said Suhail. Balochs death may be long remembered by those fighting for justice in honor killing cases because in the wake of her death the government has, yet again, promised stricter laws regarding honor killings. Additionally, the fact that Balochs murder is being investigated by a female police officer is no mean feat. Before the murder, Attiya Jaffri, the 52-year-old policewomen in charge of Balochs case, had never headed a homicide investigation. Its common for the Central Police Officer to put at least one or two policewomen in the team that investigates honor killings, said Jaffri to The Diplomat. Because in honor- related cases we often need to engage with the mothers or sisters of the victims. But Ive never before been made the Investigating Officer of a murder case. In her opinion she was trusted with this duty because currently her team has the best record of solving murder crimes in the district of Multan. She then adds that this is no ordinary case. Baloch was a female celebrity murdered in a gruesome way and her killing has created a national wave of sorts, so maybe those in charge thought it best that a women head the case. Baloch, born with the name Fauzia Azeem, hailed from Shah Saddardin a little-known village that only entered the national imagination after Baloch was buried there. By her own admission, and that of her parents, she belonged to a conservative family, that she herself supported. In the last year alone, Baloch bought her parents a house in Multan (the same house in which her brother drugged her and her parents and then strangled her while she slept), and financed a younger sisters wedding. The fact that Baloch did not come from privilege is one of the reasons she stands out. Qandeel is a feminist in the original sense, says academic Suhail. She explains that according to Balochs own narrative, in which she was a victim of an abusive marriage that she walked away from without any financial or emotional support, it can be seen that throughout her life Baloch had to fight the systems of patriarchy that prevented her from achieving her goal of standing on her own two feet. Balochs feminism was also novel because she reclaimed online spaces for Pakistani women in an unprecedented manner. One of our missions is to teach females that a mobile phone is a tool and it can be used to destroy patriarchy, says Nighat Daad, a lawyer and the founder of Digital Rights Foundation. Qandeel did exactly that; she used her mobile phone to celebrate her sexuality. It should be noted that Baloch was not the only Pakistani woman to be deemed as bold by the media. There have been others before her: Mathira, Meera, Veena Malik, to name a few. But Baloch was different in that she was unapologetic and unabashed by people calling her out. In a television interview earlier this year, a TV host asked Baloch why she resorted to being vulgar. She did not shy away from the question. You need to watch my videos again, Baloch challenged. I dont see any vulgarity in my videos. I think I look hot. And sexy. On the surface, it appears that it was this very celebration of sexuality that got Baloch killed. After all, her brother confessed that he committed the murder because Baloch brought dishonor and disrepute to the family. Moreover, if the case does make it to court, it will be dealt with as a case of murder in the name or pretext of honor. But researchers such as Suhail and Nabiha Meher, the founder of Pakistan Feminist Watch, who have been observing patterns of gender based violence in Pakistan, urge that this line of argument is too simplistic. In Pakistan, and much of the neighboring region, gender based violence becomes (legally and culturally) palatable when put under the umbrella of crimes related to honor. Society has created a justifiable category [honor killing] to place violence against women, said Suhail. The notion is that the moment women cross a transparent line where they challenge societal norms, their life is endangered. Until she was sharing videos proposing to Imran Khan or Shahid Afridi and asking her fans how she looked, it was all fun and games, but when she challenged the religious clergy and exposed the Mufti Qavi for what he is, her life changed drastically, says Daad. All of a sudden her anonymity ended, and her past and personal life was splashed on television screens across the country. Meher agrees: Her death threats began after the episode with Qavi, after she took on the extreme markers of religion in the country. On June 20, Baloch released videos and selfies of her and Qavi inside a hotel room in Karachi. Local news channels invited Qavi and Baloch to appear on television to ask them what transpired between them. Qavis non-responses strengthened Balochs claim that she has exposed the dirty cleric for what he is. Qavis fellow clergymen did not approve of this and he was suspended from his coveted position in Pakistans religions moon-sighting committee. Media critics say that such talk shows put Balochs life is further danger. It seems that we are living in the twilight zone of journalism, says Suhail. The media simply has no ethics. Unfortunately, Suhails claim is hardly far from the truth. Two weeks ago when Abdul Sattar Edhi, an international icon of social welfare, passed away, a local TV reporter prepared a news package on Edhis funeral from inside Edhis freshly dug grave. Daad also claims that describing this murder as an honor killing is unfair. This was a killing because of a hurt male ego, says Daad. A mix of incidents led to this unfortunate death: the medias treatment of Qandeel; the clergy played a role, especially the Mufti episode; the government that didnt provide her security; and lastly, we, as internet users who enjoyed her but didnt protect her. Honor killings are not exclusive to Pakistan, or even South Asia; according to the Honor Based Violence Awareness Network out of the 5,000 international honor killings every year, 1,000 can be ascribed to Pakistan. It had been a longstanding demand of womens rights groups for stricter laws to prevent such crimes. Hence the the Criminal Law Amendment Act 2005, which introduced offenses in the name or on the pretext of honor as a specific category of violence, was much lauded. According to Asad Jamal, a lawyer engaged in drafting amendments to curb crimes committed in the name of honor, because of these amendments an honor killing must necessarily lead to a minimum punishment of 10 years of imprisonment or life imprisonment or death. He tells The Diplomat that the court has no option but to punish the offender and a waiver or compounding of the offense have no effect on the courts decision. It appears, however, that lawyers, prosecutors, and even judges in the country do not understand the amendment. The Diplomat