It is 2025, and the world likes to call itself progressive. We live in an age of rockets that pierce the heavens, artificial intelligence that writes poetry, and social media campaigns that champion equality with hashtags that trend for hours. We celebrate feminist milestones, highlight women leaders, and pass laws promising protection and justice. And yet, when a woman is assaulted, or when she speaks out about sexual harassment, abuse, or rape, the questions asked remain hauntingly familiar: What was she wearing? Why was she out so late? Did she provoke him?
Decades have passed. Technology has surged forward. Space exploration and scientific breakthroughs define the era. Yet empathy—true, societal empathy—has lagged far behind. The narratives surrounding women’s safety remain entrenched in centuries-old misogyny, disguised in polite language and political rhetoric. Victim blaming continues to thrive, even among those who are expected to lead by example.
The recent remarks by Mamata Banerjee regarding the Kolkata rape case are a grim testament to this persistence. When a political leader publicly implies that the victim is responsible for her assault, it is not just insensitive; it is a societal failure written in bold letters. When those in positions of power choose to echo patriarchal stereotypes, they legitimize a culture where perpetrators are protected, and survivors are shamed.
A History of Blame
Victim blaming is not new. Its roots run deep into patriarchal structures that have defined societies for centuries. Historically, women were judged not only by their actions but also by their very existence outside the home. Literature, folklore, and religious texts often carried subtle (and sometimes overt) suggestions that women must restrain their desires, appearances, and freedoms to avoid attracting male aggression.
Even as societies industrialized and women entered workplaces and universities, the underlying narrative remained: women are responsible for male behavior. This narrative is not always overt; it often appears in the form of “advice” for women—how to dress, how to behave, whom to avoid, when to speak, when to stay silent.
These cultural impositions are insidious because they normalize control over women’s lives under the guise of protection.
The problem, however, is not limited to history or culture—it manifests in politics, media, and public discourse today. From subtle insinuations in news reports to public statements by influential figures, the message remains consistent: women, not perpetrators, are often treated as the architects of their own suffering.
The Kolkata Case and Its Broader Implications
In August 2024, the rape and murder of a young doctor at Kolkata’s RG Kar Medical College and Hospital shook the nation to its core. A woman who had devoted her life to healing others was brutally assaulted and left lifeless in a room meant for learning. The incident sparked a wave of grief and outrage—doctors across India went on strike, citizens filled the streets with candlelight vigils, and social media echoed with one collective demand: justice.
But the outrage didn’t end with the crime itself—it deepened with how it was handled. Allegations of police negligence, political interference, and institutional apathy stained the investigation from the very beginning. The Chief Minister of West Bengal, Mamata Banerjee, came under heavy criticism—not for direct victim-blaming remarks, but for her government’s perceived failure to protect the young doctor and for the insensitive handling of the case. Her initial responses, which seemed defensive rather than empathetic, only amplified public anger. For a leader who herself has long spoken about women’s empowerment, this moment of distance felt like betrayal.
Months later, when the accused was sentenced to life imprisonment instead of death, Banerjee expressed shock that the court did not consider it a “rarest of the rare” case—words that reignited nationwide conversations about justice, accountability, and who truly bears the weight of societal violence.
The RG Kar case became more than a tragedy—it became a mirror. It reflected not just one horrific crime, but an entire system’s failure to treat women’s safety with urgency, respect, and compassion. It exposed how institutions often protect their image before protecting their women. And it reminded us, yet again, that while we call ourselves a “progressive” society, our empathy often ends where inconvenience begins.
This was not an isolated incident. From the Nirbhaya case in 2012 to countless others across India and the world, survivors and victims continue to face scrutiny rather than support. Society’s first instinct, even today, leans toward suspicion—toward questioning the woman’s choices, her timing, her behavior—rather than holding the perpetrators accountable.
When those in power deflect responsibility, when systems fail to prioritize justice, when the public is encouraged—subtly or otherwise—to doubt the victim, the damage runs deeper than one case. It shapes perception, influences investigation, and normalizes silence. It tells every survivor watching, if you speak, you will be judged.
And that is how victim blaming survives—not always in direct words, but in tone, in delay, in indifference. It hides behind official statements, procedural excuses, and societal fatigue. It persists because, even after decades of progress, we still haven’t learned to listen with empathy before we analyze with suspicion.
Why Victim Blaming Persists
Understanding why victim blaming persists requires examining psychology, culture, and power dynamics. Psychologically, people often want to believe the world is fair. A crime like sexual assault disrupts that belief. To reconcile this discomfort, society sometimes shifts the blame onto the survivor—it is easier to believe that she “invited” it than to confront the reality of unchecked aggression and systemic injustice.
Culturally, patriarchal structures reinforce male dominance and female subordination. Women are expected to modify their behavior to ensure safety, while men’s responsibility to restrain themselves is often minimized. Media, entertainment, and even educational narratives perpetuate these stereotypes. Films and advertisements subtly normalize harassment, and social commentary frequently evaluates women based on morality or appearance rather than actions.
Politically, victim blaming can serve as a tool of distraction or control. Leaders may deflect responsibility or avoid addressing systemic failures by focusing attention on the survivor’s behavior. It allows power structures to remain unchallenged, while reinforcing societal hierarchies that favor male authority.
Real-Life Stories That Illustrate the Crisis
Across the world, countless survivors have shared experiences that highlight the pervasive nature of victim blaming. In India, the 2012 Delhi gang rape, widely known as the Nirbhaya case, sparked nationwide protests. While the brutality of the crime shocked the nation, the survivor’s family faced intrusive questions about her lifestyle and choices. In 2018, a high-profile case in Bengaluru saw police and media subtly questioning the victim’s character rather than focusing on the accused.
Globally, the phenomenon persists. In the United States, survivors of the #MeToo movement often faced skepticism and harassment after coming forward. In the UK, survivors of sexual assault are sometimes cross-examined in court about their clothing, social life, and alcohol consumption, diverting attention from the perpetrator’s actions.
These stories are not anomalies; they are evidence of a structural problem
They reveal that despite legal reforms, awareness campaigns, and societal debates, the deeply ingrained habit of blaming survivors continues to thrive.
The Cost of Blame
Victim blaming is not merely an injustice—it has tangible consequences. It silences survivors, discouraging them from reporting crimes. Studies show that in India, only around 10% of sexual assaults are reported, largely due to fear of public scrutiny, harassment, and social stigma. Globally, survivors cite fear of judgment as a primary reason for staying silent.
The emotional toll is immense. Survivors face guilt, shame, anxiety, and depression. Families are traumatized, communities are divided, and society loses trust in its own institutions. Meanwhile, perpetrators often escape consequences, emboldened by a culture that excuses or rationalizes their behavior.
The societal impact is also economic and political. When women cannot safely access workplaces, schools, or public spaces, their opportunities are curtailed. Economic growth, social development, and gender equality suffer. Every instance of victim blaming perpetuates inequality, reinforcing cycles of violence and marginalization.
The Role of Media and Political Leadership
Media and political leadership have a dual responsibility: to inform the public and to shape societal attitudes. Yet, too often, both fail in this regard. Sensationalist reporting, intrusive questioning, and character assassination of survivors dominate headlines. Politicians, instead of addressing systemic failures, sometimes make statements that reinforce stereotypes.
Mamata Banerjee’s comments are a stark reminder of this. When leaders publicly shift blame onto victims, they normalize victim blaming for the wider public. They signal that even in positions of power, women are not safe from scrutiny or judgment. The ripple effect of such statements is profound, influencing law enforcement, judicial behavior, and social attitudes.
It is not just Indian leaders. Globally, political rhetoric can perpetuate harmful narratives. Statements minimizing sexual assault, questioning survivors’ credibility, or emphasizing “provocative behavior” over criminal responsibility contribute to a culture where justice is selective and empathy is conditional.
The Need for Cultural Change
Legal reforms alone cannot end victim blaming. Laws may punish perpetrators, but unless societal attitudes evolve, survivors will continue to face judgment, harassment, and silence. Cultural change requires collective reflection, education, and accountability.
Education is critical. Schools, universities, and workplaces must teach consent, respect, and gender equality from an early age. Media literacy programs can help young people critically analyze narratives that perpetuate stereotypes. Public campaigns must go beyond awareness to actively challenge victim-blaming narratives.
Leaders must take responsibility.
Political figures, influencers, and public personalities have the power to shape norms. Statements that defend survivors, demand accountability, and condemn harassment send a powerful message that victim blaming is unacceptable.
Communities must cultivate empathy. Families, neighbors, and peer groups play a vital role in supporting survivors. When survivors feel heard, believed, and protected, society takes a step toward genuine progress.
A Call for Accountability and Empathy
We cannot call ourselves progressive if empathy has not evolved alongside technology. We may have developed AI, built skyscrapers, and explored space, but real progress is measured in our capacity to protect and respect one another. It is measured in how a society responds to its most vulnerable members.
Survivors of sexual assault deserve justice—not judgment. They deserve to walk freely without rehearsing escape routes, to speak without fear of scrutiny, and to live without being reduced to their trauma. They deserve leaders who uplift, media that reports responsibly, and communities that believe and support them.
Every instance of victim blaming is a failure of collective humanity. It is a reminder that centuries of misogyny are not erased by hashtags, laws, or speeches. But the persistence of injustice also carries hope: because if we recognize it, name it, and confront it, we can change it.
Towards a Truly Progressive Society
A truly progressive society is one where safety is not a privilege, and empathy is not optional. It is a society where survivors are believed, perpetrators are held accountable, and justice is unflinching. It is a society where women do not have to shrink themselves, censor their choices, or carry their fear like a second skin.
Progress must be measured not in technological milestones or legal reforms alone, but in cultural transformation. It must be reflected in how we educate our children, how we shape public discourse, and how we hold our leaders accountable. It must be embedded in every interaction, every law, and every narrative that shapes our collective consciousness.
The Kolkata case, the Nirbhaya case, the stories of countless survivors worldwide—they remind us that the journey toward justice and equality is far from over. But they also remind us that change is possible. Change begins when empathy outweighs judgment, when accountability replaces excuses, and when survivors are at the center of societal attention, not at the margins.
Decades of “progress” may have left victim blaming intact, but decades of resistance, courage, and advocacy offer hope. We must demand better—from leaders, from media, from institutions, and from ourselves. Because a world that shames survivors is a world that has not truly evolved.
And until that world exists—one where women can exist freely, safely, and without blame—the word “progress” will remain an unfinished promise.
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