In Pakistan, Lady Liberty constantly finds herself draped in borrowed robes. Democracy does this to her. Time and again. Keeping forever in mind the male gaze. Today, democracy has stripped her naked. Once more. And all because the men at the top demand it. To avenge democracy for violation by the courts. For the latter, they say, have overstepped the mark. Have dishonoured her. And this they cannot let go. Yet where were these men, the uniformed as well as the suited and non-booted, where were they when Lady Liberty herself was gang raped and paraded for all her small world to see? Where were they when she went by her given name of Mukhtaran Mai — before she found the courage to take this role for herself. When no one else was willing to see justice done? For is this not the same Supreme Court that exonerated the men who did this to her? Is this not the same Supreme Court that observed she had less to lose than a young unmarried virgin? Is this not the same Supreme Court whose judgement led this country to being ranked one of the world’s worst for women? Yet they were silent. Why? A decade-and-half later and we stand where we were before. Two rapes in a macabre intertwining not far from what happened to Mai, that which swiftly indicted her to the crusade. And what to say of Lady Justice? She, who has been blindly preoccupied by the fate of the men at the top, as opposed to those who prove themselves the lowest of the low. Here, as then, the focus is skewered. Two girls were raped. The spotlight rests on just one. As if the spite of vengeance absolves the original sin. How did any of us, all of us, reach this point? They would have us believe that Pakistan is no place for women. Whether under military dictatorship or the uncivilised civilians. They would have us believe this — so that we remain silent. They did this to Mai. But she proved them all wrong. The veritable thorn in their side has she been. When they returned her rapists to freedom she stayed put. Living with them cheek by jowl. Affording their children education at her school. Receiving compensation from one particular enemy combatant before he galloped off towards the global stage at sunset, accusing her and others of pedalling a rape-to-riches scam. But then, suddenly, it was if she had never been so humiliatingly rebuked and physically constrained by the man in khaki. The dashing commando who was famously snapped clutching a beloved Pekingese dog under each arm, appearing as pleased as punch, verily tickled pink. The soft face of a hard country home to the few moderately enlightened. For there she was, right there in the eye of the appropriation storm, right there in imperialism’s crossfire. Flooding in came the accolades, some of them meaningful, others not so much. For what currency is there in being Glamour magazine Woman of the Year? What difference does it make being photographed with Hillary Clinton and Gloria Steinem? To the aforementioned, the answer is, quite simply, rather a lot. For there is no free ride quite like a coattail one. A decade-and-half later and we stand where we were before. Two rapes in a macabre intertwining. Here, as then, the focus is skewered. Two girls were raped. The spotlight rests on just one. As if the spite of vengeance absolves the original sin Yet back home, here in this hard and unforgiving country, Mai had to prove again her mettle’s worth. Four years ago, just as the men at the top were coming close to fulfilling for the first time democracy’s open desire — there she was at a global summit begging the internationalists to dig deep for her schools. Could there be a bloodier stain on democracy’s façade? Sadly there could, and it happened less than a year ago. When this woman, this true Lady Liberty, who stepped in after all the institutions of the state had left her forsaken and forlorn, was reduced to walking the ramp, taking to a local catwalk at the behest of her old frenemy, democracy. To remind people that she had gone nowhere, that she was still here fighting the unfair fight. To re-prick those who claim to have a conscience. And donate to her cause. Thus did the fashion world decide to itself turn tricks and pimp out the image of a woman very nearly destroyed, wrapped up in its false robes of emancipation. Personified. And all the while, do these men at the top insist their only priority is to keep democracy safe, to be the only custodians of her honour. They care not upon whom they trample in the process. If they did, they would view democracy through a new prism, a new lens. One that would show them that while women are at the bottom, these men can never truly remain at the top. That this un-fine balancing act will have to one day come to an end. Toppling them in the process. And then maybe they will finally learn this lesson: democracy can never flourish. Not whilst this war of genocide wages against Lady Liberty. The writer is the Deputy Managing Editor, Daily Times. She can be reached at mirandahusain@me.com and tweets @humeiwei Published in Daily Times, August 2nd , 2017.