From hashtag to headstone

The recent murder of 17-year-old Sana Yousaf, a young influencer from Islamabad, allegedly by a 22-year-old man who could not bear her rejection, has sparked another wave of horror and sorrow across the nation. But the deeper question remains: why does it take a girl’s death to force this conversation every single time?

Sana Yousaf was barely more than a child. That she became the object of obsession for a grown man should trouble all of us. Her age raises the first haunting question: how can a society rationally frame a teenage girl’s refusal as romantic rejection worthy of retaliation?

In a place where girls are socialised to avoid interaction with boys, where even platonic engagement is culturally constrained, and where male-female dynamics remain riddled with taboos, it is all the more chilling how many men feel entitled to a woman’s attention, whether she offers it or not.

According to SSDO Pakistan reported 32,617 gender-based violence (GBV) cases: 5,339 cases of rape, 24,439 incidents of abduction, 2,238 of domestic violence, and 547 honor killings in 2024. The real tragedy, however, lies in the staggeringly low conviction rate. Only 0.5 per cent for rape and honor killings. Less than 1.3 per cent for domestic violence. This is a moral and institutional breakdown.

Part of that failure starts at home. We must confront the uncomfortable truth: we have failed in parenting our boys. In many Pakistani households, emotional intelligence is not cultivated in sons. Instead, dominance is valorised, vulnerability is shamed, and control is presented as love. Moreover, our digital ecosystem is pouring fuel on this fire. The parasocial relationships formed online are often one-sided, yet men interpret a public video, a smile or a like as something personal, as an invitation. And when they don’t get a response, their bruised egos erupt.

The phenomenon of ‘digital masculinity’ is one of the least discussed yet most dangerous aspects of modern GBV. Algorithms amplify outrage, entitlement, and toxic validation. In that space, ‘fans’ can become predators. And Sana’s case reminds us that today’s followers can be tomorrow’s stalkers. We must stop glorifying male obsession as romantic persistence. We must stop calling violence an expression of love. A teenage girl rejecting a man is not humiliation; it is her right.

Yet, every time a girl is killed, society reacts with shock as though it were a new tragedy. This is what moral failure looks like: a society that responds only after the blood is spilled, that allows law enforcement to sleep through threats until violence screams. This cyclical outrage, news cycle, hashtags and silence reflect a kind of moral laziness. We wait for the next Sana to die, and only then do we talk.

Victim-blaming still pervades these conversations. Why was she on social media? Why did she talk to him? Why didn’t her family stop her? This is not only unjust, it is illogical. When we ask these questions, we tell every other girl to stay quiet, stay hidden, stay afraid. And in doing so, we empower perpetrators who know the burden of proof is always on the victim.

There is also a cultural barrier of enforced distance between boys and girls that is rarely discussed. In a society where interaction between genders is restricted, young men often grow up with unrealistic, idealised and ultimately toxic ideas about women. Their emotional vocabulary in dealing with disappointment is non-existent. They are taught to be providers and protectors, but not how to cope with unreciprocated feelings.

Education reform must become central to change. We need curricula that teach gender respect, not just gender roles. Emotional literacy should be as essential as math. Our teachers, religious leaders and influencers must speak not only to girls about safety, but to boys about behaviour. Because if we raise boys with broken egos and inflated entitlement, girls like Sana will remain unsafe.

The justice system must be overhauled to treat gender crimes with the seriousness they deserve. We need women in policing, fast-track courts, and support systems for survivors. We need data transparency and real deterrents, not symbolic punishments.

What happened to Sana Yousaf wasn’t just a personal tragedy but a national indictment. The question is no longer why this happened, but why it keeps happening. And unless we confront the roots: our parenting, our platforms and our complacency, we will be here again, mourning another girl, sharing her name in hashtags, and promising to never forget. Until, of course, we do. Pakistan must decide whether it wants to be a society that mourns its women or one that protects them. Because right now, it is failing at both.