![Pakistani Feminism 2.0: What Women's Day Means In A Village](https://thefridaytimes.com/digital_images/large/2024-07-16/pakistani-feminism-2-0-what-women-s-day-means-in-a-village-1721128405-8961.jpg)
Recently in one of the discussion groups there was a very interesting dialogue and exchange of views on what is Pakistani feminism; the scope of the women’s movement, and more specifically, as to whether the Aurat March is representative of Pakistani women’s struggles.
The answers to these queries reminded me of the Women’s Action Forum (WAF) days in the 1980s-90s when they faced similar questions. Ironically, WAF was also accused of being focused on urban, middle, and upper-middle-class privileged women. The scope of rights they struggled for was often viewed as based on ‘western’ and ‘non-local’ values and cultural principles. Their feminism was seen as detached from the toils, struggles, and beliefs of the vast majority of Pakistani women.
Hina Husain's piece on UnHerd raises these issues very well and is timely. Pakistan remains in a cycle of stagnation on many fronts. We are a society that refuses to move forward, regressing while the world stumbles, trips, falls, and yet progresses.
I have a slightly different take on some of the valid criticisms of Aurat March 2.0 and WAF. The vast majority of Pakistani women are semi-literate, culturally conservative, and religiously oriented. However, do these values justify keeping women in secondary positions in the family or public life? I have deep faith. But my understanding of the Almighty is through a lens of egalitarianism among His/Her creation, women and men equally. Everything ordained is equally shared; the expectations do not differ in the eyes of the Lord. However, human interpretations are largely patriarchal and misogynistic. These are not surprising given the societal frameworks that existed then and now.
Therefore, any form of ‘feminism’ that seeks to call out discrimination in laws, social practices, or philosophy of life is not western or eastern, in my opinion; it is feminism, period. Poets, writers, Sufis, and sages have spoken on these matters for centuries, but we have chosen not to listen to them.
Nevertheless, the language of the women’s movement in Pakistan can include more local idioms and ideas or frame the struggles in more familiar scenarios relatable to the majority of Pakistani women. For example, recently in Jaffrabad, I was asked to visit a village outside the six I am currently engaged with. I was received by ten men, and as we sat in a circle, we discussed the new primary school I was to inaugurate. During our dialogue, I asked if the young girls, after three years of the accelerated learning program and primary school certification, would then join the middle school. I was categorically told no. “We are Baloch; our women do not study beyond 5th grade; it is against our honour.”
I thought for a second and asked the local zamindar, who had two daughters in the school, as to whether he loved his daughters equally to his sons. “Of course, I do,” he said. I asked, “What would you do if your daughters were mistreated by her brother, husband, or even another woman?”
“I would be very upset and address the problem,” he replied, confused by my line of questioning. I then asked if he would like his daughters to handle these situations themselves. I was met with an even more confused expression. “Education,” I said, “is not only about learning letters and reading; it provides the capacity and confidence to handle life’s unexpected ups and downs. Where does the Holy Scripture say we must keep women less able than men or restrict their education? Quite the contrary. Do the Baloch love their women less? Where is the honour in disabling your daughters, sisters, mothers, and wives?”
I continued: “You have invited me, a woman, to open your school, an honour, correct? Why do you honour me? Do you think I deserve less respect or consideration because I am educated and independent? Do you think of me as a foreigner?”
Moreover, I also raised the matter of migration, a common aim for many young men. Why do we want to migrate? What are the social, political, and economic aspects that make other places attractive? We also discussed why Balochistan is much more vulnerable than the other three provinces and the contributing factors to this reality.
We had a very interesting two-hour session.
Regarding the westernisation of urban feminist movements in Pakistan, it is unfair to criticise them. We tend to love to pull down positive social movements. Let’s be honest, our local universities and schools hardly provide the platforms or opportunities to develop a localised language or structure to join women’s/feminist movements. It is simply too unsafe.
The existing discussion circles are perhaps limited to the peri-urban areas. WhatsApp and the language of communication remain primarily English and Urdu, perhaps Pashto as well. But how many Pakistani women have phones, or are confident enough or literate enough to use them?
Criticising those who have had an opportunity to access feminist ideas abroad and attempt to contextualise them at home would inevitably transpose some elements that may seem like non-priorities. But are they truly non-priorities?
Hina Husain mentions the trans and pronoun identity movement as misplaced in the Pakistani social context. I would agree to the extent that these may not resonate with the majority of Pakistanis, but any exclusion of an individual’s rights is worth pushing back against.
The criticism that Aurat March promotes and undermines the sanctity of the family structure is too harsh. The family is sacrosanct as long as it is a safe space for girls and women as individuals. A wife or a daughter-in-law is not bound to designated roles or made to feel it is her sole responsibility at the expense of her desires and dreams. We have women writing about this from Begum Rokeya Sakhawat, Hossain Tarabai Shinde, Quratal Ain, Farisa Siddiqui, Ismat Chughtai, Fehmida Riaz, and others. The themes of oppression and suppression they wrote about are universal struggles of women and girls and should not be relegated to labels of being western ideas.
Similarly, when we examine what constitutes a family in Pakistan, the assumed concept of a nuclear or extended family is no longer accurate, if it ever was. I have seen too many abandoned women in rural areas, husbands with second families who take no responsibility for their children, and daughters, not sons, looking after elderly parents, as sons have no time for them nor financial responsibility. Conservative traditional women are taking on ‘male’ responsibilities in conservative religious social environments. The nature of Pakistani society, whether urban or rural, may be traditional and religious, but that does not mean the responsibilities allocated to traditional roles still exist.
In fact, as Pakistan's human development indicators plummet and the fabric of society—whether traditional, religious, or cultural—continues to deteriorate, patriarchy and misogyny are further magnified. There is more violence and insecurity for girls and women.
The notion that Pakistani ‘culturally appropriate’ and religiously minded feminists might face completely different challenges from Western women may not hold water. Language, context, and form may seem different, but the discriminatory behaviour and associated responsibilities are quite similar.
This is not to say that Pakistan’s women’s movements or feminists should not include more rural and peri-urban women in their efforts. The existing discussion circles are perhaps limited to the peri-urban areas. WhatsApp and the language of communication remain primarily English and Urdu, perhaps Pashto as well. But how many Pakistani women have phones, or are confident enough or literate enough to use them?
Last year on International Women's Day, March 8th, I spent it in Jaffrabad; I also wanted to connect with the Quetta chapter of Aurat March or a similar group. There isn’t one. Yes, this is a real issue. There are many real challenges that Pakistani progressive women face. In many parts of the country, serious threats to their welfare are genuine stumbling blocks to public expressions.
Nevertheless, no one is preventing us from having dialogues with women in the villages and towns. I was fortunate enough to have three sessions in my six villages, where we had very interesting discussions on what it means to be a woman in Pakistan and what her rights are as an individual. Individualism is an alien concept, or at least socially unacceptable to articulate. But it is not an alien feeling. It is not a foreign idea.
“Aurat ka din” was most definitely a new idea for the women of Arbab Malla, Hindu Ghot, Sherdil Bhugti and Allahabad in Jaffrabad – but not once did I feel it was out of context, given the existing human development challenges they face.
Feminists in Pakistan are a welcome social change agent in a society stuck and in a rut at every level of society.
Do they need to consider new strategies of inclusion? Sure.