While rags to riches stories in Pakistan set tongues wagging, we tend to omit a crucial caveat — the license to aspire, to better yourself, to earn serious bucks. Does the desire to go from a dusty village tucked away in the interior to a modern home in an urban city only apply to men? Because if you are a lower middle-class woman with aspirations, you’ve had it. Or like Qandeel Baloch, you will soon be dead.

 It’s been a year since her ambition and joie de vivre was snuffed out by her sanctimonious brother. “She brought dishonour to the family so I killed her.” Apparently there is no shame in being an adult man unable to look after his parents and scrounging off the sister who had to be the breadwinner of the family.

Come to think of it, Qandeel disgusted a lot of people at a visceral level — women comprised her biggest detractors. On learning of her demise, a lady with a varied love life who has proved rather adept at shimmying up the totem pole of power, sighed aloud: ‘It’s sad, but guys, let’s face it, Qandeel was no role model.’ Sisterhood, anyone? You have to understand that there is no empathy if you step out of the barriers of your class and attempt to garner a slice or two of the privilege pie that the elite have been gnawing away at for decades.

Why can’t a woman aspire towards upward mobility in life?

Qandeel revolted them but still they followed her, riveted to her come hither posts and videos because she knew that sensationalism sells. So why did Qandeel Baloch make Pakistan so uncomfortable? She was blacklisted as she gained popularity and earned money. A number of scenarios come to mind when one thinks of why she was singled out so. Was she part of an international drug syndicate out to malign her country? Was she wearing a hoodie, bypassing airport protocols on the arm of a flunkey and carrying cash for a sugar daddy in the Middle East? Was she a hypocrite selling religion on television just for the ratings? Was she running a brothel, perchance?

It was none of the above. But what Qandeel did with her cash was, perhaps, far more insidious and dreadful. She rented a home for her aged parents and looked after her family. One can stomach having dinner at a drug baron’s mansion; sending your child to the same class as an underworld don’s progeny; partying with convicted felons; chilling with embezzlers of gargantuan proportions; having a drink with a political party’s linchpin well-known for busting kneecaps of those having divergent opinions, but really … one has to draw the line at a cheap starlet trying to earn a comfortable lifestyle for her dirt-poor family. If Kim Kardashian twerks, wallah wallah, but if Qandeel twerks, it’s gross. So let’s focus on her morals instead.

If such wannabes become part of the elite, horror of horrors, where would we go with our sense of entitlement? QB could not even speak English without the desi accent. She was in the same class as poor Meera and her English who is — it has to be said — such a good sport about being the butt of such jokes. But two-bit nobodies like Qandeel who fight back and say ‘I am as good as you’ should not be allowed to forget their origins. She should have listened when she was told: “Tumhari kiya auqaat hai? Hadd mein raho!” (Who do you think you are? Stay within your limits).

A number of scenarios come to mind when one thinks of why she was singled out so. Was she part of an international drug syndicate out to malign her country? Was she wearing a hoodie, bypassing airport protocols on the arm of a flunkey and carrying cash for a sugar daddy in the Middle East? Was she a hypocrite selling religion on television just for the ratings? Was she running a brothel, perchance?

In a land where truth is such a prized commodity, QB was a liar who hid her family name to protect herself. It was a scoop when her ancestral village, her abusive marriage, her divorce and the loss of her son were revealed. Our media, the guardian of ethics and morality, honed in on her like vultures. She’s Fauzia Ameen, she’s not a Baloch, they crowed, leaving many in the community to heave a sigh of relief. After all, they bury such women alive in Balochistan, it is a part of their culture — as proudly attested to by a former education minister.

The right way for Qandeel Baloch to have gained respect was to have stayed in the dusty village and the abusive marriage for the sake of her family name and her son. Goodness, if every middle-class married woman who is physically and emotionally abused rose up and demanded their rights like Qandeel, our family values and our society would disintegrate. Women should not bite off more than they can chew. 

As Mufti Qavi, who cavorted with Qandeel and was outed by her, said after she was murdered: “Her murder is a lesson for others.”

The columnist is a freelance writer.
She tweets @MaheenUsmani

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 23rd, 2017