Aisha K. Gill 99 Mr Ahmed’s defense of his “Englishness” is particularly interesting in this context. It reveals how his own implicit claims that he was sufficiently influenced by local cultural practices to con­ sider himself English indicate that his actions were not simply the result of cultural conflict (Brah 1996). Indeed, Mr Ahmed had been married before to a Danish woman with whom he had a child (Keaveny 2012) and with whom he had led a “creolized-Western” lifestyle (Grillo 2003). It is not only immigrant parents, but also their children, who must negotiate their intersectionally config­ ured “third space.” Thus, while families may share a common ethos, individual members often express and experience this ethos differently. The fact that the different members of the Ahmed family did not occupy a single, shared intersectionally configured space helps to explain why the Ahmed children reacted in different ways to Shafilea’s murder. Jacqueline Rose (2012), writing in The Guardian about the Ahmed trial, argued that: Missing in the court room, in pretty much any court room, is the idea of fantasy, of how we make our lives bearable by elaborating stories about ourselves. For both Alesha and [her sister] lying was a way to survive. If, in the judges [sic] own words, this case has been “extraordinary,” it is not least by bringing these contortions of the inner world, the agonies of attachment and belong­ ing, so painful [sic] to life. As a victim of domestic violence herself, Shafilea’s sister, Alesha, had nowhere to go when, in August 2010, she disclosed to the police that her parents were responsible for her sister’s murder. Her situation was complicated by the fact that giving evidence against her parents had serious repercussions for her within Warrington’s tight-knit Pakistani community. Alesha told the police that for many years she had been too afraid to discuss Shafilea’s disappearance. Although her tes­ timony proved crucial in securing her parents’ conviction, Alesha was too afraid to attend court again afterwards and was not present to hear the verdict on August 3, 2012. In comparison to their white counterparts, for whom shame tends to take on a more personal character, black and minority ethnic victims often see themselves as responsible for their families’ as well as their own “honor,” causing them to experience heightened feelings of shame (Feldman 2010). South Asian women are socialized to believe that they are primarily to blame for any vio­ lence they experience, especially when it is triggered by dishonor perceived to stem from their own actions. In struggling to make their own life choices, both Alesha and Shafilea were continuously confronted with the internalized need to conform to their family’s values and, in doing so, to avoid bringing “shame” upon them. Shame creates feelings of humiliation, indignity, and exposure to debasement in the eyes of others, which, in turn, increases victims’ sense of vulnerability (Gill 2009); the wish to conceal this vulnerability lies at the heart of many women’s silence about the violence they have experienced. South Asian women are socialized not to discuss private matters with outsiders. Such discussion is in itself seen as shameful, and this disinclination to speak to others often creates difficulty when it comes to talking about their experiences of violence, even with trained professionals. Further complicating the situation is the emphasis Pakistani society places on behavior that encourages harmony in the home, rendering many women reluctant to complain for fear of being perceived as “trouble-makers.” Just as negative family and community responses encourage women to remain silent about abuse, positive responses can, however, often play a crucial role in enabling women from ethnic minorities to discuss their experiences of violence (Gill 2014).