In a startling turn of events in the last week, the non-robots of our nation, aka Pakistani men, were baffled to learn that women wear bras. Why else would so many of them take time out of their busy days to play guess-the-color with Mehwish Hayat’s underwear? The operative word here is under, as in it was under her clothes, which by the way were quite decent, and very occasion-appropriate. You looked great, Mehwish Hayat, well-played on the fashion front!

Anyway, as most of us know by now, Mehwish Hayat posted a picture of herself on 14^th August, with a patriotic message accompanying the visual, as so many celebs and non-celebs do on the day. But since she has a following of over four million, there are bound to be a bunch of creeps lurking in the shadows, biding their time till they can…stare at a screen and try to figure out what color bra the person in the picture is wearing? Weird game, but okay.

Mehwish Hayat noticed these comments and expressed her disgust at the fact that the words and sentiment she was trying to convey on a special day were ignored in favor of analyzing what lay under her – again, very modest – kameez.

That post received some attention as well, and then came the ‘Is this the Islamic Republic of Pakistan?’ brigade. Where lots of people stood up for her, plenty thought she asked for this attention by posting that picture and the whole point of the exercise was to get a debate started about the color of her bra.

This wasn’t the only incident of this particular nature to occur over Independence Day. Ayesha Omar too posted her message for the day with her dressed in a white gharara and top, made of sheer material, allowing her green camisole to show through. So obviously, everyone had to point out that her shameez was showing, and didn’t she have enough respect for the sanctity of the day to not let a full-coverage undershirt show through the upper?

Ayesha Omar removed the offending picture.

We don’t blame her.

A million such small visual assaults are made on women across the country every day, and a million judgments are formed by men, and other women about a woman’s personality, character, and supposed proclivities based on how she is dressed. Everything from an uncovered head to a slightly exposed ankle to a brazenly sleeveless shirt are seen as invitations for staring, gesturing, and commenting by most men, and sometimes women too.

They won’t care if the crime against a woman was as small as a man brushing past her in a grocery store while she picks out packets of daal and cheeni for her home for the month. They wouldn’t care if it were as huge as a crowd of men thinking they could toss a living, breathing woman around like she was the parcel they were passing around at the world’s most hideous birthday party.

They will do what we’ve unfortunately learned we do best: ask the wrong questions. Why was she there? What was she wearing? Why wasn’t she accompanied by a mehram male?

We wouldn’t mind the questions so much if they were the right ones: why did he think it was okay to grab the girl’s hand while she paid him? Why did the relatively saner men in the crowd not intervene? Why did his parents never see the telltale signs that their son was capable of incredible violence?

We are a nation that shies away from discourse on anything that has to do with the human body. Women cannot talk about menstruating, nor can an academic institution install a vending machine for sanitary products without being called out for immodesty. Women can’t talk about having any kind of physical desire, even to their husbands. Men are simultaneously taught that women are meant to be wrapped in a chaadar and live and die within their chaar diwari. For certain segments of society these may be metaphorical; for others, they are literal.

Amid the absolute cesspool of filth and danger that Pakistan has become for its women, comes the Single National Curriculum (SNC). The curriculum has been vetted by a council of religious scholars. Now, a religious scholar looking over Islamic/religious studies books is absolutely within the line. A team of religious scholars accepting or rejecting topics for other subjects is a bit ludicrous. They may, for instance, regard showing illustrations of the human body too provocative for a biology textbook and have them removed.

The council might even remove mention of Nobel Laureates from textbooks because they belong to a minority or be undesirable role models for young Pakistani women.

While the SNC is great in theory, in practice it needs to be tested, tweaked, and really, be a lot more tolerant and have a wider worldview. Otherwise, what we are teaching a whole new generation of Pakistani kids is this: the human body is only meant to be hidden, we cannot celebrate achievements of anyone in any kind of minority in Pakistan, women can never have progressive ideas or voice them, otherwise they must be attacked and excommunicated for thriving regardless.

We are teaching another generation that perfectly normal things like having breasts, wearing bras that may or may not show under clothes, or venturing out in the public must be done at a woman’s own peril.

We may be raising an entire new generation to judge what it doesn’t understand, and attack what it doesn’t agree with. And don’t you think that maybe, for once, we should at least try to raise this generation to be one that creates an environment where women, men, minorities and farm animals can breathe easy?

A million such small visual assaults are made on women across the country every day, and a million judgments are formed by men, and other women about a woman’s personality, character, and supposed proclivities based on how she is dressed. Everything from an uncovered head to a slightly exposed ankle to a brazenly sleeveless shirt are seen as invitations for staring, gesturing, and commenting by most men, and sometimes women too.