Protecting the Weaker Sex

Allow me to use very Gen Z language for a second: 

I was today years old when I realized that for some (perhaps many) people (particularly men ) special acknowledgment of Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG) is framed as “protecting the weaker sex.”

If you read between the lines, what this often means is this:

VAWG is given special attention not because of structural injustice, but because women are perceived as physically weaker and therefore in need of extra protection.

And what struck me most? This reasoning sometimes comes from highly educated, pro–women’s rights men.

At first glance, you might think: the wording is uncomfortable, but maybe they’re not entirely wrong.

Allow me to challenge that.

Recently, I asked my 15-year-old sister a question:

“Why do we say gender-based violence or violence against women and girls? After all, violence affects everyone. Women are human. Why single them out?”

She responded:

“It’s not just about the violence. It’s about misogyny and society’s perception of women being the cause of it.”

I have never been prouder. Not just because of her clarity, but because she instinctively understood something many adults miss: naming matters because power matters.

Now, here is my fundamental disagreement with the “weaker sex protection” framing.

No one says genocide is about “protecting a weaker ethnic group.” We don’t call it “mass killing of people” and stop there. We call it genocide.

Why?

Because language identifies intent.

Because targeted violence is not random.

Because the naming centers the perpetrator’s motive and the system that enables it — not the victim’s supposed weakness.

Similarly, the United Nations Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women (1993) defines violence against women as violence that occurs because women are women, or that disproportionately affects them.

The emphasis is not biological weakness.

The emphasis is gendered power hierarchies.

VAWG is not primarily about physical capacity. It is about power, control, entitlement, and social norms that position women as subordinate.

Prevention and protection are not the same thing.

“Protecting women” implies inevitability — as though violence is a natural consequence of women’s fragility.

Preventing VAWG, however, asserts that violence is unacceptable, constructed, and changeable. It shifts responsibility from survivors to perpetrators and systems.

Protection can resemble charity.

Prevention demands equality and accountability.

And historically, the language of “protecting women” has often justified restricting women.

Consider:

In Jordan, Penal Code Article 308 (1960–2017) allowed a rapist to avoid punishment by marrying his victim — ostensibly to “protect her honor.”

In Morocco, Penal Code Article 475 (repealed in 2014) operated similarly.

Protection from shame was prioritized over justice. Ending victim shaming would have required confronting patriarchy itself — far more uncomfortable.

In multiple jurisdictions, including parts of the United States until recently, parental consent exceptions enabled child marriage. The justification? Protecting pregnant girls from stigma and preserving family honor.

In practice, these laws legalized child sexual exploitation and increased the risk of domestic violence.

Restrictions on women’s property ownership were once framed as shielding women from economic burden. In reality, they entrenched economic dependence — and therefore economic violence.

Even today, we often ask:

Why didn’t she protect herself?

Why was she there?

What was she wearing?

Instead of asking:

Why was he entitled to harm her?

What systems allowed him to do so?

What norms enabled this violence?

Equal physical strength would not eliminate power imbalance. Power is social, legal, economic, and cultural — not merely muscular.

VAWG is singled out not because women are weak.

It is singled out because the violence is patterned, structural, and rooted in inequality.

And when we reduce it to protection of the “weaker sex,” we obscure the real issue: the persistence of gendered power.