“Why do men bask in ‘honour’ and women bear the burden of ‘shame’?” A thought-provoking question from Sayeeda Warsi last Tuesday during a discussion about the Pakistani social media star Qandeel Baloch, who was murdered by her brother, in an “honour killing”.

A week later, I am left asking the same question in response to the suspicious death of one of my constituents, Samia Shahid – again in Pakistan. I know how tightly scripted a young woman’s life can be in my community. And I know how dangerous it can be when you don’t stick to the script.

Shahid went to visit her family, who were also in Pakistan at the time, for a week. The day before she was due to return, and just hours after her last text, she was found dead by her father. Shahid’s husband insists that she was murdered. He says he has good reason to believe so: they had both received death threats in the past, after Shahid left her cousin and moved to Dubai, having also converted to her husband’s sect of Islam.

Her family strongly denies claims that Shahid was killed. Her father said: “My daughter was living a very peaceful and happy life. She had come to Pakistan on her own and was not under any pressure from her family.”

There must be a forensic postmortem – and I have petitioned the Pakistani prime minister, Nawaz Sharif, to ensure we get it. I have also urged the foreign secretary, Boris Johnson, to intervene.

There are those in my community who would rather not have this discussion, let alone in public. But when is there a right time or place when tackling taboo subjects? We must talk about this if we are ever to rid our society of this illness. This isn’t about honour: this is about power, and control of women in patriarchal communities. These are crimes driven by the desire to control.

This is personal. This is my community, and my constituents. Shahid was, like the girls I grew up with, Bradford born and bred. And maybe it is easier for me to talk about this taboo precisely because it is my community – Shahid could have been one of my mates.

Whatever the truth in this particular case, for too long, we’ve had a mixed response to “honour killings” in this country: on one hand, murder is murder. But on the other (shaky, sweaty and politically correct) hand, we are careful not to intrude in others’ cultures.

‘Samia Shahid was like the girls I grew up with, Bradford born and bred.’ Photograph: Supplied

The worst bigotry is the bigotry of low expectations. We must not stay silent just because we don’t understand something. This may not be everyone’s culture, but it is everyone’s problem. This may not be everyone’s immediate community, but it is happening here. We must be sensitive and fearless, just as we are when dealing with other crimes.

In the meantime we must reclaim the word honour, by boycotting it when discussing violence against women driven by the perpetrators’ notion of shame. There is nothing shameful in a woman rewriting her script and living her life as she wishes – that is about honouring herself. These killings are not about honour: they are about shame. And these shame killings are not just about the victim: they’re about the fear they create in the wider community.

I believe in my community and my country. I trust you to support my call to get the answers we need from the Pakistani authorities. Because this time, for once, it’s not about a woman’s shame. It’s about her honour – her honour, and ours, as a society built on shared human rights and equality.