By Zilka Spahić Šiljak

Anis Kalajdžić has been charged with the aggravated murder of Aldina Jahić, the unauthorized possession of a weapon, and endangering public safety. The defendant pleaded not guilty, while witnesses were allegedly asked to lie in his favor. Testimonies presented during the trial indicate that Aldina had documented threats and collected evidence with the intention of reporting them. The Prosecution claims that, on the day of the murder, she attempted to escape, seek help, and call the police before she was found in a hospitality establishment and killed.

These facts are particularly important because they dismantle one of the questions most frequently directed at victims: “Why didn’t she leave?”

Aldina, like many other victims of femicide, tried to leave. The problem was not that she did not know how to leave. The problem was a man who did not accept a woman’s right to leave.

According to information confirmed by the Ministry of the Interior of the Herzegovina-Neretva Canton to Detektor after the murder, at the time of his arrest the defendant was already awaiting trial for endangering public safety following a report filed by another woman, and no restraining measures had been imposed on him. This raises questions that go beyond individual criminal responsibility: How do institutions assess risk? How do they connect previous reports? How seriously do they treat threats and stalking? Why is protection so often activated only when it is already too late?

This is precisely why it is wrong to reduce femicide to unhappy love, jealousy, or a relationship dispute.

These are not neutral words. They conceal a relationship of power. A dispute involves two parties; in persecution, one person deprives another of safety. Love respects freedom; control abolishes it. Jealousy is an emotion; murder is a decision and a criminal offence.

Internalized Misogyny as an Accomplice to Femicide

When, following a femicide and abundant evidence of a criminal offence, a woman writes on social media:

“I do not support violence, especially murder, but… She thought she could take advantage of him while acting like a single woman. So, the man simply killed her and was done with her,”

we must ask ourselves why women seek to find justifications for the murder of another woman.

Sometimes a single sentence, such as the one above, reveals more about a society than dozens of reports, strategies, and conferences. The comment, written by a woman beneath a news article about Aldina’s murder, ends with words that should provoke collective horror and outrage in every healthy society:

“The man simply killed her and was done with her.”

This comment was not written by a man openly boasting about his hatred of women. It was written by a woman. That is precisely why it deserves attention.

Not because its author should be subjected to public lynching, insults, or threats. Such a response would merely reproduce the same pattern of violence. It is important to analyze the comment because it demonstrates how patriarchy survives: not only through men’s use of force, but also through values that women may adopt, defend, and transmit as though they represented a natural moral order.

This is what we call internalized misogyny: a process through which women, growing up in a society that systematically judges them more harshly than men, begin to accept its prejudices as their own beliefs.

They learn that a woman is responsible for a man’s anger; that her behavior “provokes” violence; that gifts create a debt toward a man; that being in a romantic relationship means losing one’s freedom; and that a woman who rejects a man must be selfish, immoral, or ungrateful.

Patriarchy is most successful when its commands no longer need to be spoken only by a man, because a woman repeats them on his behalf. This is why the social media comment begins with an apparent disclaimer:

“I do not support violence, especially murder, but…”

Everything that follows that “but” invalidates what came before it:

“I do not justify murder, but she used him.”

“Violence is not the answer, but she should have known what kind of man he was.”

“No one had the right to kill her, but why didn’t she report him earlier?”

“I feel sorry for the woman, but she also provoked him; she was no saint either.”

That “but” is not an innocent linguistic habit. It is a bridge across which responsibility is transferred from the perpetrator to the murdered woman.

At the very moment when attention should be focused on the person who threatened, stalked, controlled, obtained a weapon, and took a life, the public begins investigating the woman’s character: What did she accept? With whom did she travel? Where did she live? Why did she stay? Why did she leave? Why did she not report him sooner? Did she perhaps “give him false hope”?

In this way, after her death, the murdered woman becomes the accused.

A Gift Is Not a Property Deed

In the comment cited above, a car, a journey, and a paid apartment are presented as evidence that the woman owed the man something. It is as though material gifts constituted a contract through which he purchased her availability, obedience, sexual fidelity, and the right to decide whether she could be a “single woman.”

This is one of the most dangerous patterns of patriarchal thinking: the idea that a man’s investment gives him a right to a woman—her body, her time, and her movement.

No gift, service, emotion, or previous promise abolishes a person’s right to change their mind, end a relationship, refuse contact, or continue living their own life.

Even if all the allegations contained in the social media comment were true—and the commentator presents them without evidence—they would have no relevance whatsoever to a man’s supposed right to take a woman’s life.

Possible disappointment, jealousy, a sense of having been exploited, or a wounded ego are not mitigating circumstances for murder. They are emotions that adults must manage without violence.

What the comment reveals is the belief that a man who has given something also has the right to take something in return. When a woman attempts to leave such a relationship, he does not experience it as her decision, but as the theft of his property.

This is where the logic of femicide begins:

“If she will not be mine, she will be no one’s.”

Why Do Women Defend Abusers?

Internalized misogyny does not mean that women are naturally more cruel toward other women. It means that women, like men, are raised within the same patriarchal society.

From an early age, they hear that a “good woman” does not provoke a man, does not speak too loudly, does not leave a man, does not change partners, does not exercise her sexual freedom, and must be grateful for the attention she receives.

They learn that a woman’s value is measured by whether a man has chosen her and whether she has managed to keep him.

At the same time, male possessiveness is romanticized: if he is jealous, it means he loves her; if he is persistent, it means he cares; if he controls her, it means he is protecting her.

In such a system, some women attempt to prove their own moral worth by distancing themselves from other women:

“I would never behave like that.”

“That could never happen to me.”

“I respect my husband.”

“She must have done something to make him angry.”

By condemning the victim, the commentator creates an illusion of safety. If she believes that the woman was killed because she behaved wrongly, she can convince herself that she will remain safe as long as she is “good,” obedient, and careful.

It is far more frightening to acknowledge the truth: a woman may do everything “right” and still be subjected to violence because the perpetrator chooses to control and punish her violently.

Victim-blaming therefore often functions as a psychological defense mechanism. At the same time, however, it becomes politically and socially dangerous.

Every sentence that seeks an excuse for an abuser sends a message to other women that, when they report violence, their morality will be examined first.

It tells them that their messages, clothing, sexual life, and financial relationships will be analyzed before the threats made by the man they fear.

Because of such reactions, many women remain silent. They remain silent not only because they fear the abuser, but also because they fear that their families, the police, their employers, their neighbors, and the wider public will not believe them.

From a Social Media Comment to a Culture That Enables Femicide

The author of the comment did not pull the trigger. Responsibility for the criminal offence lies with the person whose guilt is established through lawful judicial proceedings.

It is important to state this clearly because the concept of internalized misogyny must not be used to transfer responsibility for male violence back onto women.

Nevertheless, public discourse is not insignificant.

There is no simple, automatic cause-and-effect relationship between a misogynistic comment and femicide, but there is a cultural continuum.

At one end of that continuum are “jokes” about beating women, checking their phones, insulting divorced and sexually active women, ridiculing reports of violence, and claiming that a woman “made her own choice.”

At the other end are stalking, threats, physical violence, and murder.

Femicide does not arise out of nothing. It grows within a culture that associates masculinity with domination and women’s freedom with disobedience.

It grows where saying NO is treated as the beginning of a negotiation, where ending a relationship is regarded as a man’s humiliation, and where rejecting a man becomes a reason for revenge.

It also grows in environments where those around the perpetrator describe him as “a good man who snapped,” while the murdered woman is investigated to determine what kind of girlfriend she was.

When someone writes that a man “simply killed her and was done with her,” that person is not merely commenting on one crime.

She is affirming the idea that a woman’s life can become the object of a man’s decision.

In that sentence, murder is not described as the taking of a human life, but as the resolution of a problem.

The woman is the problem. Murder is the conclusion.

That is the very essence of dehumanization.

The Law Is Important, but It Is Not Enough

Through amendments to its Criminal Code adopted in 2025, the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina introduced the separate criminal offence of the aggravated murder of a woman.

Article 166a provides that anyone who commits the gender-based murder of a woman shall be punished by imprisonment for a term of at least ten years or by long-term imprisonment.

The law requires that, when determining whether the offence is gender-based, consideration must be given to previous abuse, relationships of intimacy, subordination or dependency, sexual violence, and other circumstances demonstrating that the crime constitutes gender-based violence.

The same amendments also introduced the criminal offence of stalking.

This represents a major legal advancement. The law has finally recognized what feminist organizations have been saying for decades: some women are not killed accidentally or simply because they happened to be in the wrong place.

They are killed within a context of control, inequality, possessiveness, and gender-based violence.

But the law will not protect women on its own.

It will not help if the police treat threats as a private dispute.

It will not help if prosecutors fail to connect earlier reports and patterns of behavior.

It will not help if restraining orders are not imposed quickly and monitored seriously.

It will not help if a woman’s family tells her to remain silent so that she does not bring shame upon the household.

And it will not help if society continues, even after a murder, to search for reasons why the victim allegedly deserved to be punished.

Society often shows empathy only toward the “ideal victim”: a quiet, modest, faithful, completely helpless, and morally irreproachable woman.

If she defended herself, argued, returned to the abuser, accepted gifts, had another partner, or did not immediately report the violence, the amount of compassion that the public is prepared to offer begins to diminish.

The question “Why didn’t she report him?” is especially hypocritical when it comes from a society that asks a woman who does report violence what she did to provoke the man.

Reporting violence is not a simple administrative act. It is often the period of greatest danger because the abuser feels that he is losing control.

At that moment, a woman does not need advice offered from the safety of someone else’s home. She needs trust, legal protection, a risk assessment, safe accommodation, and institutions that will act before a threat becomes a death notice.

What We Must Learn from This Trial

The trial for the murder of Aldina Jahić must not become merely another media spectacle in which the public waits for new and disturbing details.

Its purpose does not lie in collective voyeurism, but in accountability.

The court must establish individual criminal responsibility on the basis of evidence. Institutions must examine whether there were failures in prevention and protection. The media must report without sensationalism and without romanticizing violence.

The education system must teach young people about consent, emotional literacy, equal relationships, and accepting the end of a relationship.

Social media platforms must respond more seriously to the open justification of violence.

And every one of us must stop participating in the ritual trial of a dead woman.

The real question is not why she was not careful, grateful, or obedient enough.

The real questions are:

Why did a man believe he had the right to decide whether she would live?

Why are threats and stalking so frequently normalized?

Did the institutions have enough information to assess the danger?

Why does society continue to defend abusers by referring to money, gifts, and wounded masculinity?

And why do even some women believe that a woman’s freedom can be punished by death?

No “But” After a Murder

Internalized misogyny is not a personal deficiency belonging to individual women. It is the result of long-term social conditioning.

It cannot therefore be eliminated by insulting the commentator, but through education, public opposition, feminist solidarity, and the consistent identification of patterns that sustain violence.

Women are not natural allies of patriarchy. However, the mere fact that they are women does not automatically make them feminists.

Solidarity must be learned.

So must disobedience toward a system that demands that a woman understand the abuser more than she understands the victim.

The comment with which this article began is not merely an “ugly comment from the internet.” It is a small textbook of the culture of femicide.

It contains all of its key elements: distrust of the victim, the material ownership of a woman, the punishment of female freedom, sympathy for the man, and, finally, the presentation of murder as an understandable solution.

This is why the sentence “I do not support murder, but…” must be answered without any continuation and without negotiation:

There is no BUT.

The post When a Murdered Woman Becomes the Accused: Internalized Misogyny in Action appeared first on FER ŠKOLA.

Ibn ‘Arabi interprets the Mi‘raj through his metaphysics of wahdat al-wujud (the Unity of Being). For him, Mi‘raj is not a departure from the world, but a movement through different levels of Divine self-disclosure. In his Futuhat al-Makkiyya (The Meccan Revelations), he writes that the Prophet’s Mi‘raj was unique because it involved both body and spirit, yet that every believer has their own inner Mi‘raj, a journey of consciousness from captivity to form toward recognition of the Divine presence in all things. 

Sidrat al-Muntaha, the boundary to which the Prophet ascends, represents for Ibn ‘Arabi the limit of discursive knowledge. Here reason ends and direct knowing (ma‘rifa) begins. God is not encountered through concepts, but through a transformation of perception. In this sense, Mi‘raj is a process in which the ego (nafs) is not destroyed but illuminated, becoming a mirror of Divine reality. 

Fariduddin Attar, author of The Conference of the Birds (Mantiq al-Tayr), sees Mi‘raj through the dynamics of annihilation (fana) and return (baqa). In his symbolism, the birds who seek the Simurgh pass through seven valleys, corresponding to the seven heavens of the Mi‘raj. Each valley represents the loss of an illusion about the self: the valley of seeking, the valley of love, the valley of knowledge, the valley of separation, the valley of unity, the valley of bewilderment, and finally the valley of self-annihilation (fana).  

Like the Prophet on the Mi‘raj, the traveler must lose all identities in order to arrive at the truth of the self. Attar thus teaches: “You do not reach God by ascending, but by ceasing to be the one who thinks he is ascending.” Mi‘raj is therefore the night in which power dissolves into humility. 

Jalaluddin Rumi understands Mi‘raj through cosmic love. The Prophet does not go to God to gain something, but because love itself is movement. In the Masnavi, Rumi writes: 

“Your body is a donkey, your soul its rider. If you do not know where you are going, even the Mi‘raj will not help you.” 

Rumi warns that external ascension without inner transformation is an illusion. The true Mi‘raj happens when the heart becomes wide enough to hold both God and humanity. That is why the Prophet returns from the Mi‘raj, because Love does not remain in ecstasy but returns to the world to heal, teach, and draw people closer to one another and to God. 

Mi‘raj as Return 

Mi‘raj is therefore not an escape from the world, but a return to the world with a transformed vision. It does not teach us how to leave people, but how to be with them without violence, without domination, without illusion about the self, which is the most difficult task of all. 

The Night Journey (Isra) begins in Mecca and leads to Jerusalem. For Sufis, this symbolizes the movement from the center of identity to the place of wounded holiness. Jerusalem is the place where revelations, empires, armies, and prayers collide, just as the human heart is where fear and hope, power and vulnerability, ego and love collide. Isra is thus a journey through our inner Jerusalems, the parts of us occupied by fear. 

When the heavenly steed Buraq carries the Prophet through the seven heavens, Sufis interpret these as states of consciousness: 

 the heaven of the body.  

the heaven of desire.  

the heaven of fear,  

the heaven of reason.  

the heaven of intuition,  

the heaven of love.  

the heaven of surrender 

At each level the Prophet meets other prophets, but in Sufi interpretation these are his own matured spiritual aspects. When he reaches Sidrat al-Muntaha, where even the angels cannot go, it means that knowledge, power, and form cannot go further, but Love can. 

The most radical message of the Mi‘raj, as Sufis tell us, is the return. The Prophet did not remain in Divine proximity, he returned. Likewise, the true Sufi is not the one who goes to God, but the one who returns to people with a transformed heart. That is why the first command that comes from the Mi‘raj is not an esoteric secret but prayer (salat), not as a mere ritual, but as a daily Mi‘raj of body and consciousness. Every prayer is a small attempt to escape the tyranny of time and return to presence. 

Poem: The Night When the Heart Ascends 

O Beloved, 
if the heavens are too far for our tired feet, 
lift our gaze 
so that at least the sky in our eyes 
may begin its Mi‘raj. 

If the world is too heavy 
for our fragile shoulders, 
remove from us hatred 
like dust from the soul, 
so that we may once again feel 
how beautiful it is to love. 

We do not ask for Buraq’s wings, 
but for the silence 
in which Your Beautiful Names 
can be reflected. 

Make our hearts 
not temples of stone 
but nests 
where Your mercy 
is not afraid to land. 

Come, 
not as a judge, 
but as a dream 
that drives away fear. 

Wrap Yourself in our prayer 
like light in a candle, 
like breath in the chest, 
like love that does not ask 
whether it is deserved. 

For only a heart 
that dares to be soft and vulnerable 
knows 
what the true Mi‘raj 
looks like. 

The post Miraj  2026/1447 The Night When Hearts Ascend  appeared first on FER ŠKOLA.

In Bosnia and Herzegovina and across the Balkans, cases of femicide occur with alarming frequency, and the media often portray them as unpredictable tragedies committed by a man who was supposedly “quiet,” “a good neighbor,” “a devoted father,” or someone who “never showed signs of violence.” These types of statements are not harmless. They protect perpetrators, conceal structural causes, and contribute to a culture in which violence becomes normalized and invisible—sending a message to women that they should remain silent and endure, because no one will take them seriously or protect them. 

The question we must ask ourselves is: why do we as a society constantly look for excuses for perpetrators of violence? Does it even matter if the perpetrator was considered “good” in his social or family environment, and can that possibly exempt him from responsibility for violence? 

The responsibility lies with all of us, because we support and maintain patriarchy—and until we confront our patriarchal beliefs about the superiority and dominance of men over women, we will not escape the culture of violence. Much is hidden in the “treasure chests” of our culture, customs, and religious interpretations that encourage and justify the unquestioned authority of the man and his dominance over the woman. 

It is important to name the problems openly and speak clearly about why we uphold misogyny and sexism, why we uncritically accept the “natural,” God-given authority of men, and thus sustain the patriarchal value system. This system is maintained not only by men but by an entire social structure that normalizes hierarchy between men and women. In this sense, patriarchy is an ideology and an institution, not a biological fact. The system and social structures persist because men believe their power is “natural”—and unfortunately, many women help defend patriarchy, sometimes out of fear, sometimes to preserve their own positions. Religious authorities also bear responsibility, as many still interpret sacred texts hierarchically, justifying the superiority of men over women as divinely ordained. 

Although it is encouraging to hear voices from the Islamic Community—such as the statement of the chief imam of the Mostar Majlis, Dine ef. Maksumić, and the condemnation issued by the Interreligious Council of Bosnia and Herzegovina—this is not enough, because we still do not address the foundations used to justify violence against women, which lie, among other things, in the interpretations of sacred scriptures. Many Muslim men and women still repeat what they were taught: that the man is one degree above the woman (Qur’an 2:228) and that he has the right to “physically discipline” her if she is disobedient (Qur’an 4:34). 

These are among the most persistent pillars of patriarchy in Muslim communities, used to support the supposed “natural,” God-given authority of men over women. Such selective and literalist readings of the Qur’an still prevail today. Yet it is important to note that within the Islamic Community there are imams who openly speak against violence against women,¹  and that the Islamic Community officially considers violence against women prohibited. ² Unfortunately, patriarchal interpretations of Islam remain the norm and dominate the texts used in educational institutions of the Islamic Community. 

A brief online search shows that most texts reinforce the authority of men in marriage and family, including their right to control women and even physically discipline them, “not too much,” as some commentators say. On one portal, N-um, an author explains the importance of hierarchical relations in marriage: 

“The man is one degree above the woman, not because of intelligence or because he is better, but because marriage is also based on the principle of hierarchy. For the sake of establishing order in which everyone knows their duties and tasks. Imbalance occurs precisely when the authority of the head of the household is questioned. ‘Where there are many grandmothers, the children are weak,’ says the proverb.” ³ 

Another text, by Jamal Badawi on the portal Akos.ba, explains physical discipline this way: 

“Based on the Qur’an and hadith, this measure may be used in cases of the wife’s indecency or extreme willfulness and exclusivism shown toward the husband’s reasonable requests and his initiative for peaceful resolution of marital problems. Even then, other methods such as admonition should be tried first.” ⁴ 

If we examine the literature used as source material in many Islamic faculties in the region, it becomes clear that patriarchal interpretations remain deeply rooted. They shape future imams, teachers of religious education, theologians who then reproduce patterns that legitimize violence against women under the cover of faith. One illustrative example is the commentary of Ibn Kathir, distributed to imams in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Another is the widespread Qur’an translations in which most translators made no effort to translate Qur’an 4:34 in accordance with core principles of justice and mercy. 

A third example is the recently published Qur’an commentary by professor Safvet Halilović, who in interpreting the passage 4:34 offers the classical explanation that a man has the right to “lightly strike” his wife if earlier steps of admonition fail. In his translation and commentary, similar to most previous translations, the pedagogy of patriarchy is clearly visible: 

“As for those (wives) whose disobedience you fear, advise them with kind words; if kind words do not yield results, then ignore them in bed and do not approach them. If ignoring them in bed does not affect them, then strike them, but in such a way that you do not injure them!”⁵ 

Halilović explains that this refers to a “light strike with a miswak or toothbrush,” a gesture expressing the husband’s “frustration and dissatisfaction.” Even more concerning is his claim that such interpretation is “reasonable” and does not violate “human dignity” or “mutual respect” between spouses. This interpretation raises several key issues: 

1. Pedagogy of patriarchy: the man as the woman’s disciplinarian 

Many classical and contemporary interpretations assume that the man is the “natural,” rational, morally superior educator of the woman. From this follows the idea that a woman must be under “disciplinary supervision,” that a man has the right to judge her behavior, that “disobedience” justifies physical discipline, and that his frustration is more important than her dignity. In such a model, violence, even if called “light” becomes a tool for maintaining power and control. 

2. Absurd idealization of male self-control 

These interpretations assume a caricatured image of a man who perfectly controls himself, who knows exactly how and when to “ignore” his wife, who calmly goes to the bathroom to get a miswak or toothbrush and then returns to “lightly strike” her without consequences. This is theological fiction, not the reality of power relations in patriarchal societies where women are taught to stay silent unless they want to be beaten or killed. 

In reality, violence against women does not begin or end with a “light strike”, it begins with words and interpretations that romantically mask the structural nature of male domination legitimized as divine regulation of marital and family relations. 

3. Normalizing violence through minimization 

Calling a strike “light,” “symbolic,” or “non-injurious” serves to make physical violence acceptable. And then who will debate whether it was a toothbrush or a fist, a slap or internal injuries and bleeding that cannot be seen, not to mention psychological harm that destroys dignity and self-respect? It is therefore crucial that sermons in mosques, as well as classrooms and other settings, clearly state: 

• every strike is violence 

• every strike is a threat 

• every strike tells the woman she is subordinate 

• every strike has psychological consequences because it destroys dignity and self-esteem 

• every strike is part of a broader dynamic of control and power over women 

4. Interpretations that justify violence become structural violence 

Such interpretations do not remain confined to books or classrooms, they become arguments in marriage counseling, in police stations, in social work centers, and in other institutions that turn a blind eye to cultural and patriarchal religious norms. When a religious authority says it is “normal” to strike a woman, even symbolically, he legitimizes a broader pattern of violence. We must remember that patriarchy does not survive through overt brutality, but through “light,” “reasonable,” and “dignified” forms of violence presented as love, care, or pedagogical guidance. 

A Call for Responsibility and Change 

At a time when femicides happen almost daily, and when some religious authorities still offer interpretations of Islam that directly or indirectly justify violence against women, it is entirely justified to expect the Islamic Community to take clear, public, and unequivocal responsibility. This means speaking against violence across all networks, portals, and mosques; removing from the curricula of madrasas and faculties all literature that normalizes male dominance and physical punishment of women; and offering contemporary, ethically responsible, and theologically grounded translations of the Qur’an, rather than those that still translate the problematic verb daraba as “strike them” (4:34) and then try to soften its meaning by saying the strike should be “light.” 

Every institutional silence, relativization, or continued circulation of such interpretations becomes part of the structural violence that endangers women’s lives. 

Let me conclude by saying: patriarchal interpretations are not God’s word. They are projections of male power onto the sacred text. Religious authorities are therefore responsible for the translations and interpretations they offer, for the kinds of knowledge they transmit, and for the practices they justify through silence. Our responsibility is to question such interpretations and practices, because only God is sacred, human life and dignity are sacred, and our understandings of sanctity must never violate them. 

The post When Violence Is Minimized in the Name of God appeared first on FER ŠKOLA.

The vow of silence surrounding gender-based violence, which overwhelmingly affects women and girls, still hangs over our society. Although every new report of abuse, prostitution, or femicide provokes a brief wave of outrage, most people remain silent out of fear, shame, or the deeply ingrained habit of “not touching what doesn’t concern us.” It is especially devastating when behind that silence stand the very institutions that should serve as refuge and protection. When the police, social work centers, and the judiciary hide behind procedures, shifting responsibility from one to another, they not only lose their purpose but become accomplices in a social sin. 

The American philosopher Audre Lorde reminds us that our silence will not protect us. It becomes a means of preserving injustice, a way to normalize violence and to muffle pain. Violence against women and girls is not a private matter but a moral test of society, and it is a test we have failed for years because we allow the pain of others to remain unheard. 

There comes a moment when no word can conceal the shame of the system. The news that among those suspected of human trafficking and sexual exploitation of two underage girls from the Tuzla Canton are four police officers, men whose duty was to protect children, exposes not only an individual crime but a moral collapse of institutions and a culture of silence that keeps violence alive. This case is not merely a criminal act; it is a mirror held up to our society, to a system that closes its eyes to violence, and to a community that stays quiet, believing it is not its concern. 

When a police officer or a social worker justifies their inaction by citing “procedures” or “lack of jurisdiction,” they cease to be human and become part of the machinery of evil, as Hannah Arendt described in her writings on the banality of evil, the way horror becomes normalized when institutions stop thinking morally. 

Violence Against Women Is Not an Anomaly 

Feminist scholar and lawyer Catharine MacKinnon warned long ago that violence against women is not an anomaly but a structure, a way through which societies sustain inequality. In this case, that structure is plainly visible: the very institutions meant to protect women and children have become accomplices or silent witnesses. Through their silence and inaction, violence becomes a systemic norm. 

This is not the first time institutions have failed, nor the first time those in positions of power have ignored their legal and moral obligations. Over the past decade, Bosnia and Herzegovina has recorded numerous similar cases, from the abuse of girls in children’s homes, to sexual harassment at universities, to abuses of authority within state institutions. The pattern is always the same: two or three days of outrage, media noise, a few protests, then relativization, silence and the victims are left alone with their pain and trauma. 

We live in a continuum of sexual violence against women that stretches across generations, institutions, and borders. It has been documented for years by international organizations such as UN Women, Amnesty International, and the OSCE, as well as by local organizations that record, day after day, cases of abuse, femicide, trafficking, and increasingly sophisticated forms of digital violence. Violence is not an isolated incident, it is a structural pattern of power. 

Behind every individual story lies the same logic: the social approval of male control over women’s bodies. It is the logic that justifies unequal pay, tolerates sexist jokes, doubts victims’ testimonies, and romanticizes violence through language and culture. As feminist sociologist Liz Kelly wrote, violence against women exists on a continuum, from street harassment to institutional exploitation. Every act of silenced violence enables the next, more brutal one. And these days, we are witnessing one of the most horrific forms: the organized prostitution and exploitation of unprotected girls. 

Moral Responsibility: Between Pain and Possibility 

The philosopher Simone de Beauvoir reminded us that “the evil that does not touch you does not mean it does not exist, it merely waits for your turn.” The essence of moral responsibility, therefore, is the ability to recognize injustice before it personally affects us. If we remain silent about the abuse of girls in Tuzla today, others will remain silent when violence reaches us tomorrow. A society accustomed to silence loses its capacity for empathy, and with it, its humanity. 

Moral responsibility, both in feminist and religious thought, is not merely a matter of individual conscience but a shared ethical task. It obliges us to see the pain of others as part of our own moral landscape. As the German theologian Dorothee Sölle wrote, “Suffering is not a private drama but a call to action.” Every report of violence therefore demands our response, not because the law compels us to act, but because our humanity does. 

Feminist theologian Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza of Harvard reminds us that hope is not born of pious words but of the concrete practice of justice. That possibility still exists today in every school, social center, courtroom, church, or mosque where someone decides not to look away, but to speak out against violence toward women and girls. 

Our moral renewal begins when we recognize pain as shared, not foreign. Only then do we open the space for transformation. Every word spoken against violence becomes an act of healing for the victims and for a society that has betrayed them. 

If we truly want a society that does not reproduce violence, we must break the vow of silence, which means committing ourselves to concrete change by: 

-introducing mandatory gender-sensitive education in the police, judiciary, schools, universities, and all state institutions; 

-establishing independent oversight mechanisms for cases of human trafficking, prostitution, and other forms of gender-based violence; 

-ensuring transparent procedures and the public disclosure of disciplinary actions;

-providing support to victims, not stigmatization; 

-and promoting a public ethic of empathy, the capacity to be moved by others’ suffering rather than remain indifferent. 

The case from Tuzla Canton is not merely the tragedy of two girls, it is a test of our collective conscience. If once again everything is covered up, if institutions fail to demonstrate both legal and moral responsibility, then we have all failed the test of humanity. 

As Indian author Arundhati Roy wrote in The God of Small Things, “silence is the accomplice of tyranny.” Breaking that silence is not merely an act of courage, it is the beginning of the moral renewal of society. Our task is to speak on behalf of those who cannot, whose voices have been taken away. If we fail to do so, no budget, no institutional reform will matter. All will remain dead letters on paper, a normative illusion of justice.

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This event represented the culmination of many years of effort, dedication, and sacrifice of the entire community, led by Elvedin Sivac and imam hafiz Nermin Spahić, who were the pillars of this great project. The mosque committee decided that the opening honor would go to its president, Elvedin Sivac. Instead of taking this moment of recognition solely for himself, he chose to share the honor with his wife, Beisa Kuburaš-Sivac. Though seemingly a simple gesture, it carried profound messages about marital partnership, equality, and a true understanding of Islamic values.

Back in 2004, Elvedin and Beisa began the demanding mission of organizing and bringing together the Muslim community in Des Moines, Iowa. In a foreign land, where preserving identity and faith is often more challenging, they joined forces to create a space for future generations – a place of worship, education, and community. It was no easy task. Beyond financial obstacles, they faced psychological and social challenges inherent in any collective effort. Before the opening, Elvedin shared with a smile: “We have endured much, but our hearts are at peace because we know everything was done for the sake of Allah.” That, ultimately, is what matters most, while human ego, envy, and hypocrisy must be set aside. The essence lies in competing in good deeds, just as the Almighty commands: “So compete with one another in good deeds” (5:48), and “So strive together as if in a race towards all that is good” (2:148).

The strength of this couple lay precisely in their ability to work side by side, encouraging one another and persevering when others gave up. Their model of partnership is not one of rivalry but of complementarity. As president of the mosque committee, Elvedin could have easily highlighted himself as the central figure, as unfortunately is often the case in Muslim communities. Instead, he emphasized the importance of joint work with imam Nermin Spahić and the many male and female benefactors (vakifs). Then he added words that moved many to tears:

“It was a great honor for me to open the Es-Selam Mosque. With me was my beloved Beisa,  my greatest support, my anchor, and my answered prayer. Her strength and quiet resilience were my guide, and her heart was my peace. Together with our two daughters, Hatidža and Ajdina, in whose eyes I saw the fruits of blessing and the strength of love, this moment became the crown of our shared journey.”

By publicly recognizing his wife’s contribution, Sivac demonstrated that true strength does not lie in self-promotion but in acknowledging shared effort. He showed what it means to be both a true gentleman and a believer: one who does not claim a monopoly on recognition but understands that success is born of collective and collaborative work. His act stands in contrast to the notion that only men are “God-given” to receive praise and honor.

Unfortunately, his gesture remains the exception rather than the rule. Too often in Muslim communities, men forget that their achievements are not theirs alone but also the result of the support of family and spouses. A simple review of various ceremonial events shows that men are the ones most frequently recognized, while women are often left unmentioned and forgotten in speeches, unacknowledged by title, referred to only as someone’s wife, daughter, or sister, rather than as doctors, professors, engineers, or benefactors (vakifas). In patriarchal contexts where men occupy the central stage, women’s contributions are taken for granted and rendered invisible. Yet, if a man’s title or smallest contribution is overlooked, criticism and protest quickly follow.

This reveals a fundamental truth: it is essential that every voice and every contribution be recognized. As the Qur’an reminds us:

“Whoever does good, whether male or female, and is a believer, We will surely grant them a good life, and We will reward them according to the best of what they used to do.” (16:97)

Goodness, therefore, is valued as a universal category, regardless of gender, social position, or status. God makes no distinction between male and female contributions but rewards effort, intention, and sincerity. In practice, however, within Muslim societies, women’s voices have been muted, and their contributions either neglected or attributed to men in the public sphere. At the opening of the Es-Selam mosque, one man showed that things can and should be different.

Since the Es-Selam mosque was built as a waqf (endowment) funded by numerous male and female donors, it is especially positive that their names are inscribed on the mosque’s minaret, a symbolically important act. In the history of waqfs in Bosnia and Herzegovina, women made significant contributions, yet they are rarely mentioned. At mosque openings, for example, great benefactors such as Gazi Husrev-bey are frequently cited, but not his wife Shahdidar, despite existing records of her substantial endowments in Sarajevo. Likewise, women benefactors from Islamic history are often overlooked, such as Zubayda, the wife of Caliph Harun al-Rashid of Baghdad, who built the water supply system for Mecca. Seeing the city’s water shortage, she hired experts to design the most advanced irrigation system of her time. Years ago, while on Umrah traveling toward Mecca, one of the guides emphasized Zubayda’s contribution, noting that even today engineers cannot fully explain how her waterworks functioned because of its complexity. My comment at the time was: “Appoint a woman as mayor of Mecca, and the water supply will work again.”

A Message to the Community and Future Generations

The example of this gentleman benefactor transcends a personal story and becomes a symbol for the whole community. Firstly, Elvedin sends a powerful message about the importance of women in religious and social life. Members of this congregation, such as Beisa Kuburaš-Sivac, Dr. Jasmina Salčinović-Spahić, Elvira Jukić, Elma Berbo, Sena Delahmet, and others are often the bearers and initiators of important initiatives, even though their names rarely reach the public. By publicly acknowledging their contributions, barriers of silence and invisibility are dismantled, creating space for equal recognition of men and women in the Bosnian diaspora community.

Secondly, he offers a model for future generations: marriage is not merely a private institution but also a platform for joint work and social contribution. Shared faith can become the foundation for broader social projects, and the opening of the Bosnian Islamic Cultural Center mosque is the best proof of such a vision. Islam, from its earliest beginnings, granted women the right to own property, seek education, and participate in society. Yet throughout the centuries, practices developed that marginalized women, confining their roles mainly to motherhood and the private sphere. Today, when women are often as educated, or more educated than men, it is unacceptable to disregard and exclude half of the intellectual and social capital simply out of habit or unwillingness to change. Had Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) behaved that way, he would never have transformed the customs and traditions of Mecca and Medina, even though he was told repeatedly that people were merely following “the ways of their forefathers.” Traditions can be beautiful, but they must always be refined and renewed lest they ossify into sterile and unproductive habits.

What Elvedin Sivac did can be understood as a return to the original Islamic values where women’s contributions are recognized and appreciated. By reminding the community that the mosque was not solely the product of one man’s effort, but of an entire community and in this case, of two people who shared dreams and responsibilities, Elvedin points directly to the qur’anic message that husband and wife are: “garments to one another”, comfort, support, protection, and guidance to each other. His decision to share the honor with his wife is not merely an act of momentary humility or sentiment but a lasting lesson in what leadership in the community should look like. A leader is not one who monopolizes power and recognition but one who makes space for others, especially those whose contributions are essential yet often hidden, whether by neglect or by deliberate omission.

The story of Elvedin and Beisa is more than the account of one mosque’s opening. It is testimony to shared effort, the strength of partnership, and values that transcend individual ambition. It sends a message to the community that success is fuller when shared, and that the highest honor lies not in self-promotion but in acknowledging and valuing others.

At a ceremony attended by people from around the world, Elvedin Sivac did more than open the doors of a new mosque. He showed Muslims how gender relations in religious and social life should be understood. His action stands as a reminder that partnership, humility, and mutual respect remain the foundations of true success in faith, as in life.

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On March 7, 2025, on the eve of International Women’s Day, at the invitation of the Informal Women’s Lobby Group, Medina Mujić and I held a book promotion for “The Price of Impure Blood: Cultural and Economic Aspects of Menstruation in Bosnia and Herzegovina,” which I co-authored with Jasna Kovačević based on our research on menstrual poverty. The discussion was moderated by the excellent journalist and activist Elma Mujkić, a member of this group.

It was an opportunity to reconnect, build new relationships, and witness the strength of women who, with their skill, wisdom, and perseverance, show how communities can be built and why it is important to take collective action.

Gračanica is widely known for its hardworking people and entrepreneurial spirit, but also for its exceptional cultural and historical heritage—keranje (hand embroidery and lacework), preserved by women.

Thanks to the “Gračaničko keranje” Association, women successfully registered keranje as an intellectual property with the Institute for Intellectual Property of Bosnia and Herzegovina in 2010. I cannot fail to mention Azemina Ahmedbegović, who, along with many women from this association, managed to establish Gračanica lacework as a globally recognized brand.

This was particularly evident when they created the now well-known Srebrenica Flower, a symbol of remembrance. A book should be written about this, not just a short column.

These women offer the world handwoven lace, embroidered cushions, curtains, and other artistic works that, on one hand, reflect the mastery of female creativity, and on the other, represent the strength of women’s groups that weave networks of cooperation and resistance against violence and patriarchy.

It was an honor to meet the activists of Gračanica, who have gathered over ten women’s organizations into the Informal Women’s Lobby Group, dedicated to improving their community by preventing violence against women and addressing discrimination and exclusion. The ten women leaders, who run associations involved in food production, handicrafts, clothing, and other products, are coordinated by Larisa Šuša. They act in synergy, speaking with one voice when addressing problems and challenges in their community. The coordinator represents them publicly as a shield and defense for women in their community, serving as a buffer against attacks that inevitably come when challenging power structures and patriarchy. Resistance is often fierce, requiring skill and wisdom in strategic actions. There is much to learn from these women about developing different strategies for activism.

These women are true artists on the stage of life. As entrepreneurs, farmers, lawyers, politicians, and designers, they dedicate part of their time and resources to helping others.

“Helping others ultimately means helping oneself,” as one of them explained, because life without purpose has no meaning. And for them, the purpose of life always includes others—those in need of help, a kind word, and the feeling that they are not alone.

Looking at the hand-embroidered decorations on the walls of the Bosnian House in Gračanica, and the fine threads meticulously woven by a small needle into extraordinary networks of floral and other motifs, I realized that these women are not just creating exceptional lace but the most beautiful ornaments of solidarity and female unity.

As I observed these embroidered decorations, I felt something beyond mere aesthetics—I saw connection, community, and perseverance. These women are not only preserving the heritage of their mothers and grandmothers but also shaping and adapting it to the needs of the present day.

Why Does This Matter?

First and foremost, because research (Gender Barometer BiH 2024) shows that due to the lack of solidarity among women, deeply ingrained cultural practices and gender roles continue to change slowly.

In the book The Subversive Stitch: Embroidery and the Making of the Feminine, Rozsika Parker argues that while “embroidery was a means of educating women to become feminine, it also provided a weapon of resistance to the constraints of femininity.” Handicrafts such as embroidery and lacework can be seen as a double-edged needle—historically used both to reinforce ideas of femininity and domesticity and to challenge them. At first glance, embroidery, lacework, and weaving may appear as traditional women’s tasks that confined them to the home. Yet, throughout history, women have used these very crafts to build their autonomy, connect, exchange knowledge, and support one another.

Through keranje, (lacing), weaving, and other exceptional crafts, Gračanica’s women showcase their femininity and creativity while at the same time challenging patriarchy, oppression, exploitation, and marginalization. They are weaving strong networks of solidarity, just as a fine needle threads delicate strands into a cohesive fabric that is not only aesthetically valuable but also strong and resistant. They have long understood that only together can they bring about change—not just for themselves, but for the generations of young women who will follow.

Keranje in Gračanica is not just a craft, it is a silent revolution, an act of resistance, and a symbol of unity, as Elena Ferrante reminds us: “True female friendships are like a network—they support you, catch you when you fall, and enable you to grow.”

These women demonstrate that solidarity networks are strong, that they can rely on one another, and that a single phone call can solve problems that would otherwise take days of bureaucratic procedures. And if they fall, as life inevitably brings challenges, they are there to catch one another in their net of solidarity offering a helping hand, a kind word, shelter, contacts, and even financial assistance.

I conclude this column with the words of Margaret Mead, whose quote many are familiar with:

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

This small group of women proves that change always starts with us—and that only by working together can we achieve something meaningful. Only together can our voices be strong enough to dismantle patriarchy and the violence that harms women, children, and even men. Because patriarchy, contrary to popular belief, does not benefit men either. Women and men should be partners in life’s journey, because only together can they build happier families and societies.

Happy March 8, 2025—International Women’s Day, a day of resistance and demands for justice and equality

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On this Eighth of March, as during other important dates, we can often hear women say that they can’t do anything, that they don’t have any power, thinking most often that they don’t have political power, but also that it’s not worth fighting for, because the world is the way it is. However, if women thought this way two hundred years ago, today I would not be writing this text, girls would not study, work and have the right to vote, freedom of movement and other rights and freedoms. Brave women in our history believed that they had the power to change things in their environment, so they mobilized other women and men to help them realize their vision of a better and fairer future for women, slaves, workers, minorities and all other marginalized groups. Because of such women who put us in debt, we celebrate the Eighth of March every year.

International Women’s Day is a celebration of success and achievement, not a consumerism fair where women are patronized and silenced with flowers and gifts so that they don’t ask questions about gender-based discrimination in the family and society, about militarization, exploitation, stratification and divisions, and environmental catastrophe .

When we are asked why it is important to celebrate March 8th after women have achieved civil and political rights and have the opportunity to get an education, work and engage in politics, we answer that it is important because most of these rights are only formally and legally guaranteed. In practice, women are still underrepresented in decision-making positions, are economically largely dependent on men, suffer various forms of violence and abuse and are still not trusted until they are killed – and even then society tries to find justifications for the perpetrators. In patriarchy, women are under scrutiny, exposed to double moral standards and their every step outside the given framework is harshly criticized and sanctioned, while justifications and mitigating circumstances are sought for the perpetrators.

How to celebrate the Eighth of March?

Nobel laureate Malala Yousafzai raised her voice against men who prevented her from getting an education and almost lost her life because of it. When she recovered, she did not stop raising her voice, explaining: “I raise my voice – not because I want to shout, but so that the voiceless can be heard.”

Each of us should ask ourselves how we can raise our voice in the fight for equality and a fair society in which women’s work and achievements will be valued, and in which the lives of women and men will be equally valued.

This March 8, 2024, in Bosnia and Herzegovina, it is important to remind ourselves again of the history of women and their advocacy for civil and political rights, because without that struggle women would not enjoy the rights and freedoms they have today. In addition, it is important to raise awareness of the causes of economic disenfranchisement and exploitation that are obstacles for women to achieve full equality. Finally, it is important to constantly work on raising awareness about the disastrous consequences of gender-based violence and the measures that should be taken to prevent violence.

To know the history of the struggle for the equality of women and men

Those who do not know and respect what our predecessors did, risking their lives, health and other resources, cannot appreciate the rights they enjoy. Rights were not given, but were fought for with great difficulty, and were won by brave women, such as Elisabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony and others in America, but also by numerous women in Europe, the most prominent of whom are Klara Zetkin and Rosa Luxemburg. Klara was a member of the Socialist Party of Germany, and later, as a journalism student in Paris, she would actively participate in the Socialist International. She edited the magazine  Die Gleichheit  (“Equality”). She was against bourgeois feminism because she believed that it divided the working class and did not help working women against capitalist exploitation. Rosa Luxemburg is another important name to remember. Originally from Poland, she was educated in Switzerland in the field of law and economics. She became involved in politics and lived in Germany because she believed that she should be at the center of events. Together with Clara and other socialists, she fought for the rights of women and workers. Based on the ideas of Flora Tristan from France, who wrote the work “The Workers’ Union” (1843), socialists sought to connect the fight for civil and political rights with the rights of workers.

In addition to the women who made a significant contribution in the fight for equality in the world, it is important to remember on this day the women who in Yugoslavia and Bosnia and Herzegovina spoke about these issues and fought to improve the position of women. Among them are numerous female partisans and anti-fascists, then women who made a breakthrough in science, politics and culture, but also every woman who made a step forward in her family and community and paved the way for new generations to be better off. There is still more research to be done on this, and one part of that history is collected in the book “Recorded” (2015), which can be found on the website of the Sarajevo Open Center, as well as the edition # Žene BiH – an illustrated book about exceptional women , who represent the most significant women of our country. Such books can be a nice gift and a way to empower young women and men, because even though March 8th is a women’s day, men should also be involved and support their efforts in building a fairer society for all.

To make people aware that men and the state profit from women’s unpaid work

A recently published study by UN Women entitled “Baseline Study on the Economics of Care in Bosnia and Herzegovina” (Maja Arslanagić-Kalajdžić et. al., 2023) shows that the largest percentage of unpaid work, which includes caring for children, elderly and sick family members, cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, shopping and other tasks, is performed by women and that compared to other women in developed countries, they spend 6–7 hours a day on these tasks. This is a huge resource that is not socially valued or paid for, and the economy of every country relies on women performing these tasks without any compensation.

Imagine if all this women do is paid. What would happen?

It has already happened, in Iceland in 1975, when women decided not to do unpaid work. A real drama in society followed, and the state realized that it could collapse if this continued. Namely, the state is counting on unpaid work, because otherwise, if all these jobs were paid, women would be more economically independent and would be more valued, as would the jobs they do.

This has been calculated by some countries and the data is astonishing. An Oxfam study on unpaid work shows that the annual monetary value of women’s unpaid work is over US$10 billion. Oxfam’s methodology (number of women over 15 x number of hours of unpaid work x national minimum hourly wage) showed that in the American context, for example, in 2019, the monetary value of unpaid work amounted to 1.5 billion dollars, which is 130 times more than the net profit  of the Amazon  company in that period. In its analysis, the International Labor Organization shows that between 10 and 39% of the gross national income is unpaid work.

International Women’s Day is an opportunity for women and men in every household to remember that unpaid work is still on women’s shoulders and that they therefore do not have time for other paid and more valued jobs, and that it is necessary to distribute this burden equally.

Gender-based violence costs women, families and the state

One of the hot topics of Bosnian society, as well as other societies today, is gender-based violence with a large number of femicides. Although the formal legal framework has ensured legal protection for victims of domestic violence, in practice the female body, sexuality and reproductive capacities are still under the control of men. Social and cultural norming of gender roles and the masculinities and femininity desired in them continue to determine the lives of many women and men. A woman is still expected to be gentle, caring, patient, long-suffering, to sacrifice herself and her life for the sake of her family. If she rebels, then she is exposed to violence and eventually suffers, most often at the hands of a married or extramarital partner or a family member. Women, unfortunately, are the least safe in their homes, because as the United Nations estimates, almost 60% of murders of women occur within a family or partner relationship, that is, one woman is killed every 11 minutes.

In Bosnia and Herzegovina, we do not have statistics, but rather estimates from individual non-governmental organizations based on media reports, so in the period from November 13, 2022 to November 16, 2023, eight women were killed, as stated in the CURE Foundation Report, noting that this is not the whole picture but only part of what was recorded in the media. All research on gender-based violence at the global level shows that every third woman has experienced some form of violence and that the largest percentage (over 95%) are men.

When celebrating the Eighth of March, we should remember all the women who were killed: Edina, Nizama, Emina, Selma and others, but also talk about the cost of violence. The biggest loss is a woman’s life and that cannot be materially compensated, nor can the pain and loss experienced by many families be compensated. What can be measured is that the violence experienced by women and children, as well as individual men, costs victims, families and the state.

A woman who suffers violence has to take time off work, and often loses her job. Also, when she goes to the doctor, most often after serious injuries, funds are spent from the health care system to repair the consequences of violence. Some Western European countries and America have made estimates of economic expenditures in the health system to show that gender-based violence costs the state, and thus its citizens, because the budgets are filled from their taxes. In America, victims of gender-based violence lose over eight billion dollars annually due to absence from work, and an average of 30% of victims lose their jobs. The European Institute for Gender Equality reports that the costs of gender-based violence at the European level are over 366 billion and that 79% of these costs relate to women.

Therefore, violence costs money, and we should openly talk about it and look for solutions for prevention, because when violence happens, only the consequences are treated. Therefore, it is an opportunity to talk about it on this day, the Eighth of March, instead of hiding the bruises and blood with red carnations, which are a warning that a woman can lose her life, her family – her mother, daughter and sister, and the state resources that can be used to improve the standard of living.

Let us have a happy Eighth of March, a holiday of (r)evolution, a reminder of the successes and courage of women, but also a holiday of questioning our attitudes, the lethargy and powerlessness behind which we hide, waiting for someone to solve these issues.

Source:  https://tacno.net/osmi-mart-praznik-u-kojem-se-postavlaju-pitanja-i-traze-odgovori/

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One such figure is Elvedin Pezić, a representative of the Wahhabi strain of Islam, known for its rigid and literal interpretations of the faith. Pezić has hundreds of thousands of followers, and unfortunately, a large number of people trust him. Like many other preachers, Pezić effectively uses social media to fill the void left by the Islamic community with simple, clearly articulated messages that resonate with many. His messages often provide straightforward recipes for a “successful” marriage, built on a foundation of the woman’s obedience to the man. There is no apologetics, no complex reasoning or excessive argumentation—just a simple, time-tested formula: the man is the head of the household, and the wife and children owe him obedience. When this hierarchy is in place, everything supposedly works smoothly—harmony reigns, and everyone is content, including God, who allegedly decreed that women should be subordinate to men.

Pezić frequently states on social media that violence against women should generally be avoided, but in his video lectures, he references a Quranic verse:

“And as for those from whom you fear disobedience, admonish them, then refuse to share their beds, and finally, strike them. But if they obey you, do not act unjustly towards them…” (Quran 4:34).

His interpretation of this verse is that a man must follow a three-step process for “educational” purposes: first, advise the woman; second, separate from her in bed, depriving her of intimacy; and only then, if necessary, strike her—but not in the face, so as not to leave marks.

A reasonable person would be shocked by this interpretation, which reflects a patriarchal view and provides men with instructions on how to “discipline” women. Believers may wonder how it is possible that a God who is Merciful and Compassionate, and who rewards and punishes each individual according to their deeds, could grant such control to men over women. How can one believe in a God who seems to value women less than men, decreeing that they must be obedient to men and placing men in control of their lives?

Unfortunately, many Muslims believe that this verse should be translated, understood, and applied literally. While some imams give sermons and lectures on the incompatibility of violence against women and children with the principles of Islamic justice and mercy, many still support the notion that a woman must be obedient to her husband, and that physical discipline is justified if she resists.

One example comes from Hafiz Senaida Zajimović, who asserts: “The husband is the head and master of the household and family—due to his natural abilities and his responsibility to provide for the family. He has the right to demand obedience and cooperation from his wife. Thus, she is not permitted to rebel against his authority, as this would cause discord. Without a captain, the ship of the household will flounder and sink.”

Zajimović goes on to explain that a wife’s disobedience gives a husband the right to discipline her. First, he should advise her; then, he may separate from her in bed; and finally, he may strike her—but, according to his understanding, not in a fit of anger. Though it is not explicitly stated in the Quran, he insists that discipline must be carried out calmly and without emotional outbursts.

However, if we know anything about human emotions and relationships, it is clear that most people react impulsively, especially in anger, and that violence is often committed in moments of emotional distress. It is rare to find individuals who can cool down, reflect, and then rationally decide to administer a “light” beating, purely as a warning. It is as though we are speaking of idealized beings who can always control their emotions and act justly. Given how few people possess such restraint, laws and sanctions exist to prevent individuals from taking justice into their own hands.

Moreover, who can seriously believe that a relationship between spouses can be improved through force or violence? One can be forced to comply or endure suffering, but such relationships are built on fear and manipulation, not respect.

Zajimović further explains: “Hitting a woman in the face is forbidden, as it insults her human dignity and endangers the most beautiful part of her body. However, one should not resort to using a whip or any other instrument that would cause pain or injury.”

It remains unclear on what basis this interpretation is derived, as it is not explicitly stated in the Quranic text. It is likely drawn from classical commentators who sought to limit the use of physical force. Some scholars, in an effort to soften the interpretation of Quran 4:34, have suggested varying degrees of the permissible “strike,” ranging from the use of a miswak (toothbrush) to a light blow that does not cause significant physical pain or injury.

Instead of prescribing the acceptable level of force, it might be more productive for scholars to re-examine the translation and interpretation of this text, leaving less room for misuse. Progressive Islamic scholars have proposed alternative translations and interpretations of this Quranic verse, offering more enlightened perspectives on the treatment of women. Here are a few examples:

Mainstream scholars not only find it unhelpful to engage with this text and offer new interpretations, but some also use certain hadiths (sayings attributed to the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him) to further cement their patriarchal understanding of gender relations. For example, the hadith: “If I were to order someone to prostrate before another, I would order a woman to prostrate before her husband,” is still cited in textbooks, taught in madrasahs, and repeated by some imams during Sharia weddings.

This past summer at the Emperor’s Mosque in Sarajevo, Hafiz Išerić began a wedding ceremony with this very hadith, as if there were no others to choose from, such as the following:

• “The most complete believer is the one with the best character, and the best among you are those who are best to their wives.”
• “Never be violent to women.”

Why do some imams continue to emphasize obedience rather than partnership and mutual cooperation? The Qur’an provides a platform for egalitarian action:

“Believing men and believing women are allies of one another. They enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong, and they establish prayer and give zakat, and they obey Allah and His Messenger. It is they upon whom Allah will have mercy. Indeed, Allah is Exalted in Might and Wise.” (9:71)

Such texts do not serve the interests of the ruling elites who produce and control religious knowledge. It is more convenient for them to promote hierarchical and complementary relationships than to introduce egalitarian and partnership-based ones.

There are many reasons for this, among which are the following: outdated interpretations of the Qur’an; men’s unwillingness to seriously address issues that need to be resolved in light of modern times and civilizational progress; and women’s reluctance to demand partnership and fairness, instead continuing to uphold traditional lessons on family, marriage, and child-rearing.

While there are beautiful aspects of tradition, such as respect for women and the elderly and care for others, the tradition also includes the control of women and their sexuality, the exploitation of their capacities, all explained as a means to achieve God’s pleasure. It also involves enduring violence and injustice, and the inability to fully express one’s talents and abilities because a woman’s traditional role has been confined to raising children, serving her husband, and providing logistical support (washing, cooking, cleaning, etc.) for the welfare of the family.

Such traditions, which burden marital and familial relationships, must be reevaluated, and new ones established that emphasize the dignity of both men and women. These should promote a partnership where each person is free to reach their full potential without coercion, fear, or hiding behind religion.

It is also essential to reform current views on women and eliminate discriminatory practices of obedience, just as slavery, concubinage, and other practices mentioned in the Qur’an have been abolished and are no longer practiced by Muslims.

Muslims were willing to abandon many discriminatory practices, yet they remain unwilling to relinquish patriarchy, defending it by threatening women with the idea that disobedience will bar them from entering paradise. How pitiful it is for men to hide behind God, using divine punishment to coerce women into obedience. Has masculinity fallen so low that there are no more brave and courageous men, like the Prophet Muhammad—who was gentle and consistently emphasized good treatment of women, fostering respect and relationships within the family?

Unfortunately, religious communities in the Balkans have not embraced feminist or liberation theology, despite women studying theology since the 1970s. Gender stereotypes are perpetuated, and biological differences, which no one disputes, are emphasized to justify social differences. This confines women to the home and to child-rearing.

Some women are also hesitant to accept egalitarian models of gender relations, promoted by progressive commentators of the Qur’an, fearing they may lose their positions or be labeled feminists. Some lack awareness or education, while others are informed but remain silent out of fear or self-interest. For them, silence is golden until they experience violence, at which point they turn to feminists and seek refuge in safe houses.

Though people often fear change and resist a critical examination of their traditions and religion, it is crucial to deconstruct gender stereotypes, patriarchal interpretations, and norms that impose women’s obedience to men. God does not discriminate between people for any reason, but people, in the name of God, do so for their own goals and power.

Source: https://tacno.net

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From the White Tower in Gradačac, the song about the lost love of Captain Husein was not heard today, with famous lyrics: “From Gradačac, the white tower of the Dragon of Bosnia, the falcons chirped mournfully…” but the cry for the murdered woman broke through.

On August 11, 2023, Nizama Hećimović was murdered by her husband, Nermin Sulejmanović, who killed her in front of their two-year-old daughter and broadcast it all live on Instagram, and then killed several more people and finally committed suicide.

A terrible image that reminds us that this is another in a series of crimes of femicide (crime of hatred against women) that reveal all the weaknesses of the system and culture in which we live and which we support with our silence. In the judiciary of Bosnia and Herzegovina, femicide is still classified as domestic violence, so the punishments are very light.

The picture is like from a horror movie in which the main role is played by a psychopath. We still don’t know anything about the perpetrator and his state of health, but what we do know is that violent people often use illness, alcohol, and drugs as an excuse for violence.

Of course, mentally disturbed people can be violent and murderers, and of course they can be triggers and intensifiers of violence, but justifying violence by saying that someone becomes violent when he drinks or that he cannot control his aggression, has a short fuse, is inadmissible. This only supports the culture of violence and sends a message to bullies that they will not be adequately sanctioned because the punishments are too light and that they will be accepted in society again.

Although, according to the available information, the police had previously proposed measures to prohibit approach to the victim Nizama, the Municipal Court rejected the proposed measures, which is an indication that the state institution does not have the sensitivity, nor the responsibility, to protect the victims – mostly women and children – in cases of gender-based violence that often end in murder.  Officials in institutions should also bear both moral and legal responsibility.

How many women need to be killed in order to call such crimes by their proper name, femicide? How much longer will it take for us to change legal norms and procedures so that such crimes are punished more severely and protection measures are more effective?

Unfortunately, such changes do not come quickly, especially changes in the culture and way of understanding violence. It is worrying that we have normalized violence to such extent that we are not even able to articulate our emotions and our views on it. Immersed in our daily problems and the cyber world of “click existence” and instant images, we don’t notice that we are numb, that we silently accept and approve of violence, that we don’t move to do something and that we often think, so it’s not my place to interfere.

If every minute one woman is beaten in America and if every third woman in the world has experienced some form of violence and if in the Balkans we read daily in black chronicles about domestic violence and the murders of women and children, then there is no justification for silence. Women are not safe in their families in their homes, in the workplace and on the street. Most women suffer at the hands of their partner or a close family member. The myth that the family is a safe harbor for women and children has long since been demolished, because for many it is a prison where they suffer violence and are often killed.

What happened to the society we live in? Were men more respectful and less violent before? We can hear such assessments that there was no violence to this extent and that feminism and the Internet are to blame for everything. The fact is that violence has always existed but was not reported and categorized as such, and that thanks to the efforts of feminists, domestic violence was legally regulated at the end of the 20th century.

During one research, when I talked with women about family relationships, I remember that many of them said: “If I hadn’t kept silent, I would have been blue (with bruises) and maybe divorced, and maybe even killed.” So, the women defended themselves with silence and suffered what which must not be tolerated, because growing up in a family with violence only perpetuates the cycle of violence. Therefore, the culture of silence, denial and justification reigns in our societies.

A real man (not) beating a woman?

When violence and femicide occur, we should ask ourselves where we are making mistakes, what we are not doing properly and what we are supporting knowingly and unknowingly? It is obvious that we cultivate violence and toxic masculinity through socialization patterns, but also through popular culture in which the real man is macho, arrogant and solves problems with violence.

Research called “The Man Box” conducted in Great Britain, Mexico and America among young men aged 18 to 35 shows all kinds of social pressure men suffer to fit into the appropriate gender box.

Through seven key topics, this research shows what are the expectations of men in today’s Western, developed societies:

Self-sufficiency – through socialization, men receive messages that it is important to be self-sufficient, which means to be independent, to be able to do everything on their own, not to ask for help from others because this is understood as weakness. Message: “A man who talks a lot about his worries, fears and problems should not be respected. He should solve it himself and not complain and ask for help.”

Strength – a man is physically stronger than a woman and then he is expected to show that strength to fight for certain goals to defend himself or to defend the honor and reputation of someone close to him.

Message: “A man who does not fight back when others attack him is a weakling. Men should act strong even when they feel scared and nervous.”

Physical attractiveness – a man shows that he is successful by his dressing and behavior, and at the same time if he pays too much attention to it, then he is not masculine. Message:

“It’s hard for a man to be successful if he doesn’t look good. Women are not attracted to men who are too interested in clothes, hair and skin care.”

Rigid masculine gender norms – the division of housework implies that a man is engaged in the public sphere and a woman raises children and performs household chores.

The message: “It is not good for a boy to learn to cook, clean, sew and take care of children.” A man should bring money and take care of the family.”

Heterosexuality and homophobia – a man should be heterosexual and hate homosexuals to be a real man. Message: “A homosexual person is not a real man.” Heterosexual men can be friends with homosexuals.”

Heterosexuality and hypersexuality – not only should a real man be a heterosexual person, but he should also always be ready for sex. Message: “A real man can have as many sexual partners as he wants. A real man will never refuse sex.”

Aggression and control – the right man uses physical force to control a woman’s family and life. The message: “If necessary, a man will be violent to gain respect.” A man should have the last word in a relationship or marriage and should always know where his partner or wife is.”

When misogyny, militarization, nationalism, various forms of fascism and chauvinism that flood social networks are added to these seven expectations, and when masculinity shaped like this is accepted as the norm, then it should not be surprising that gender-based violence is constantly increasing.

The power relations between women and men are still very unequal, but the fact is that in the last 50 years, significant changes have taken place both in law and in policies. Gender-based violence is, thanks to the feminist movement, criminalized, it is no longer a private matter of the family, but an important social issue. Women are more economically independent and there are safe houses that provide psychosocial and material support to victims of violence. All these changes, however, are not enough if there are no changes in social and cultural expectations about desirable patterns of masculinity and femininity.

If the ideal of a real man is one who  drinks and fight using violence to silence a woman ŠŠŠ: Šamar  (a slap), Šaka (a fist), (Štos) (knock down), who is capable and knows how to make money but also to control his family and who does not publicly talk about his problems and feelings but  resolves them himself by taking out his frustrations and aggression on women and children, then we will continue to hear painful cries for femicide, not only from the White Tower in Gradačac city, but also from other towers and walls of silence, which condone and justify violence against women.

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