Having already completed all the courses necessary for a bachelor’s degree from Boston University and with graduation looming in 90-something days, I decided to spend my final semester taking a few interesting classes, which never before fit into my tightly packed schedule of degree requirements, departmental prerequisites and studying abroad. So this semester, I enrolled in less traditional and more interesting courses like Women in American Literature and Coming of Age in Film and Literature.

In my Women in American Literature class, we are reading The Scarlet Letter, which (for anyone who did not read it in high school) is Nathaniel Hawthorne’s tale of the adulterous Puritan woman, Hester Prynne, who is sentenced to forever wear a scarlet ‘A’ upon her breast. In my class, we have discussed how only a few hundred years ago the crime of adultery brought with it social ostracism, public humiliation, punishment and even death.

Simultaneously, we’ve examined how, in America today, adultery seems as if it’s not really a big deal at all how men and women can be idolized and respected despite their sexual transgressions. For example, Rudy Guiliani can still be the man of the year, Heidi Fliess can sign a multi-million dollar movie deal, Monica Lewinsky can run the talk show gamut and former President Clinton can leave office with high approval ratings. Despite how archaic and ridiculous Hawthorne’s Puritans seem to our class, we have discussed how, despite America’s laissez-faire attitude toward extramarital affairs, in other countries throughout the world, many women are still governed by strict religious and moral codes on sexuality.

That is, in other countries, a fate like Hester Prynne’s does not seem so farfetched. In other countries, The Scarlet Letter reads more like front-page news and less like a work of fiction. And in Nigeria, women like Amina Lawal face the death sentence for having extramarital affairs and children out of wedlock.

Amina Lawal’s story seems a painful contemporary of Hester Prynne’s. Amina is a divorced, illiterate, Nigerian peasant who was tried for having an extramarital affair and an illegitimate child. Nigeria is technically a secular democracy that has implemented a constitutional ban on capital punishment in accordance with international human rights law and the African Charter for Human and People Rights. But because the country’s northern states are predominately Muslim, Amina was tried according to the Sharish, or Islamic, law.

Found guilty of having sex with a man who was not her husband, she was accordingly sentenced to death by stoning as soon as her infant daughter is weaned from her breast. While the young woman was sentenced to death, the man identified as her lover and the father of her child was released after swearing his innocence on the Koran; authorities could not find enough witnesses to convict him a DNA test was never even considered.

For Sharish authorities, Amina’s punishment seems more than appropriate; it is the only way to protect the sanctity of marriage. According to religious law, death by stoning not only sets an example for the public but also will be a path of salvation for the poor mother. That is, not only will her death prevent others from committing extramarital affairs and bearing illegitimate children, but also, a death by stoning on earth would save her from the eternal hellfire and almighty fury that would supposedly await her in the afterlife.

Intense pressure from around the world following the publicity of Amina Lawal’s case has put her death sentence on hold (for now). Amnesty International appealed to the Nigerian government to protect the young woman’s rights under the international human rights law, Oprah launched a campaign to contact the Nigerian ambassador to America and e-mail petitions from women’s rights groups have been forwarded around the globe.

However, despite the stay on the execution, the religious law governing Nigeria and many other parts of the world is still in effect. Although publicity and pressure have protected Amina from being stoned to death, the same barbaric sentence could await thousands of other less-fortunate women in societies governed by similar laws.

My class has since closed the cover of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter and moved on to something else. But our interest in Amina’s story and its implications in the global movement for women’s rights continues. This month, Amina is both a symbol and a reminder. She is a symbol of what the month of February has become, stretching far beyond those predictable long-stemmed roses, cheesy heart-shaped chocolates and candle-lit dinners toward a V-Day instrumental in raising awareness and money to stop acts of oppression and violence against women and girls. And she is a reminder that, despite her salvation, there is still much work to be done.