When Honor Met Death & The Stories In Between
(On honor killings)
Part 1
By: Carol Kaplanian
Is there any honor in honor crimes? An examination of perceptions surrounding notions of ‘honor’ through the voices of men who killed.
Researching this subject has not been an easy task. The more one delves into understanding the dynamics of honor crimes, the more questions are raised on the way beliefs are formed and how perceptions are made. Let me start by explaining the meaning of honor as portrayed through Human Rights Watch.
They define honor killings as “acts of violence, usually murder, committed by male family members against female family members who are perceived to have brought dishonor upon the family. A woman can be targeted by her family for a variety of reasons including, refusing to enter into an arranged marriage, being the victim of a sexual assault, seeking a divorce-even from an abusive husband-or committing adultery. The mere perception that a woman has acted in a manner to bring ‘dishonor’ to the family is sufficient to trigger an attack” (Human Rights Watch, 2001).
Through conducting academic research and theorizing material surroundings, honor and crimes committed in the name of honor, I never thought that I would get the opportunity to meet with men who committed murder in the name of honor. The opportunity arrived around two months ago; an opportunity not to be missed and I felt it was vital for all the data I was collecting as I can hear their stories, their reasoning, their understanding of honor, their perception of gender, their understanding of love and their critique on the law.
It was a hot Monday morning. On the way to the prison, I was nervously sitting in the car, trying to accumulate all that I know regarding the issue in one box; in one page. I was overwhelmed and slightly nervous, I was worried about the things I was about to hear, and I kept reminding my self that this is no ordinary crime committed under no ordinary circumstances. I arrived to the prison and was taken to a large room. As soon as I glanced inside I saw eleven men sitting there and was told that they were the men I was to interview. I had a good look inside, and was surprised to realize that none of them fit the stereotypic notion of a ‘killer’. On the contrary, they looked like ‘normal’ individuals with emotions portrayed on their faces. They looked like they were accepting and they embraced the idea of talking to me quite openly. I started seeing them one by one; the only object dividing us was a table. I was startled with how much peace they possessed in relation to what they have committed. At first I was finding it so hard to relate to the way they thought. We came from the same culture, yet it felt like worlds of difference divided us. The men all had similar stories. Nine out of eleven of the men were brothers who killed their sisters. The remainders were fathers. Until today, one man’s story lingers in my ears so clearly….
‘...I looked at her, she cried and said that she hates this family and the way she is treated. She told me that I was to blame for it, she provoked me… I killed her’
Firas* was 44 years of age, he greeted me quite warmly and asked what the purpose of my visit was. I told him that I was conducting research to further understand the notions surrounding honor. He responded and said that he was happy to help. I asked him to tell me his story, the reason why he was in jail, and then he shut his eyes, took a deep breath and started speaking….
“My sister was twenty-two years old. It all started in 2004. One day she got sick, she started bleeding and my mother took her to the hospital. A few hours later my mother calls me; she was frantic; she said that I had to cleanse this blood, this shame that has been bestowed upon us. At first I was confused, I kept telling her to slow down, then she said, ‘don’t you get it; your sister was raped, and now you have to finish off this shame’. I was in shock; this was the last thing that I have expected. My sister was a good girl. She ran away from the hospital and was kept in Juwaideh under protective custody. In the meantime I went to negotiate with the man who raped her for some solution. I suggested to him that if he married her, no harm would come his way or hers. He rejected the proposal and I went home feeling angry and very overwhelmed. My father managed to release my sister from prison on the condition that we would not harm her. She arrived home, I was in the kitchen. I was filled with rage, and sadness. I looked at her, she cried and said that she hates this family and the way she is treated. She told me that I was to blame for it, she provoked me and I killed her”
The room was filled with silence. I then looked at him and asked how he killed her, what he used, he then looked at me and said:
“I killed her with a knife. I kept stabbing her, and until today I don’t remember that moment very clearly”
I then asked him how many times he had stabbed her; and was far from prepared to the answer I was about to hear. Firas* then looked at me and said:
“Sixty-four times, I stabbed her sixty-four times!”.
“My sister was twenty-two years old. It all started in 2004. One day she got sick, she started bleeding and my mother took her to the hospital. A few hours later my mother calls me; she was frantic; she said that I had to cleanse this blood, this shame that has been bestowed upon us. At first I was confused, I kept telling her to slow down, then she said, ‘don’t you get it; your sister was raped, and now you have to finish off this shame’. I was in shock; this was the last thing that I have expected. My sister was a good girl. She ran away from the hospital and was kept in Juwaideh under protective custody. In the meantime I went to negotiate with the man who raped her for some solution. I suggested to him that if he married her, no harm would come his way or hers. He rejected the proposal and I went home feeling angry and very overwhelmed. My father managed to release my sister from prison on the condition that we would not harm her. She arrived home, I was in the kitchen. I was filled with rage, and sadness. I looked at her, she cried and said that she hates this family and the way she is treated. She told me that I was to blame for it, she provoked me and I killed her”
The room was filled with silence. I then looked at him and asked how he killed her, what he used, he then looked at me and said:
“I killed her with a knife. I kept stabbing her, and until today I don’t remember that moment very clearly”
I then asked him how many times he had stabbed her; and was far from prepared to the answer I was about to hear. Firas* then looked at me and said:
“Sixty-four times, I stabbed her sixty-four times!”.