I Should Have Honour: A Story That Refuses To Be Forgotten

There are books one enjoys, books one admires, and then there are books that alter the way one sees the world. I Should Have Honour by Khalida Brohi belongs firmly in the latter category.

Part memoir, part call to action, the book tells the extraordinary story of a young Pakistani woman who transformed personal tragedy into a lifelong mission to challenge honour-based violence. Yet to describe it merely as a memoir would be to undersell its impact. This is a deeply human story about courage, injustice, and the determination to create change where silence has too often prevailed.

Brohi writes with honesty and conviction, drawing the reader into a world where tradition, culture, and power intersect in ways that can have devastating consequences for women. The book never sensationalises these realities. Instead, it confronts them with clarity and compassion, allowing the reader to understand both the human cost of honour-based violence and the urgent need to challenge it.

What makes the book particularly powerful is that it is not simply a story of suffering. It is a story of resilience. Faced with circumstances that would have silenced many, Brohi chose a different path. She found purpose in advocacy, transforming grief into action and giving voice to women whose experiences too often go unheard.

As a Pakistani woman, I found the book especially moving. Its themes resonated deeply, not only because they reflect challenges that continue to affect many women across South Asia, but because they speak to universal questions of dignity, freedom, and justice. In the aftermath of tragedies such as the killing of Bano Bibi, the issues raised in this book remain painfully relevant. Stories like Brohi’s are not historical footnotes; they are urgent reminders of why the struggle for women’s rights and protection remains unfinished.

What struck me most was the book’s ability to educate without preaching and to inspire without sentimentality. It asks difficult questions while retaining a profound sense of hope. By the final page, one is left not with despair, but with a renewed belief in the power of individual courage to challenge entrenched injustice.

I rarely reread books. There are simply too many waiting on the shelf. Yet I Should Have Honour is one of the few I intend to return to. That alone says something about its significance.

This is not always an easy book to read. Nor should it be. But it is an important one. More than that, it is a necessary one. If there were ever a book that deserved a place in classrooms, libraries, and public conversations around the world, this is it.

Some books inform. Others inspire. A rare few stay with you long after you have turned the final page. I Should Have Honour is one of those books.