A pretty bride of India is burned with kerosene her husband keeps her dowry and his freedom is achieved, a burnese girl in Bangkok is of value for her skin, solid for her complexiion, never saw her home again. The minister of culture, he argues so well, his teeth are flashing as he details, a legacy of murder, a heritage of rape, a time honored tradition to maim and mutilate. Cut away her labia with dirty broken glass, she died of obstruction prainfully infected mass, a dress code violation is an outrage in Iran, splashed her face with acid only them the fun began. She wasn't good enough, a female child left face down packed in the snow, umbilical cord around her tiny feet, she suffers and dies alone. A woman in a western home is under house arrest, a drunkard is her jailer he's entitled to molest, her daughter is passed over when she tries to raise her hand, the likeliness of her success is not an even chance. The minister of culture, he's wringing his hands, he keeps on laughing as he demands- "No human right applies her, our women will agree, our property has spoken no cause to intervine."