I was sixteen when my father set a “be back by Maghrib” curfew. I was eighteen when my father pushed it to 8pm.
I was twenty-two when my father allowed me to stay out till 11pm.
I am twenty-four now, and my father just told me that I SHOULD BE HOME before Maghrib prayers.
Somehow, he believes that the sun will save me from the terrors of the night.
It is a sorry existence to be a woman in Pakistan today.
I can only speak of my country because I am most familiar with its soil, culture and people and from what I’ve seen, heard and read in the past few days, I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter how many curfews my father implements on me or the pepper sprays he buys me or even the rape whistles I attach to my keys, I am my own keeper.
Noor Mukadam was shot and beheaded in the federal capital
And I am not safe. We are not safe.
I have seen women progress in the past few years, from something as small as seeing more women drive around town to witnessing us create a space for ourselves in higher office. However, this progression seems performative when witnessed in the context of the tragedy that women, as citizens, are facing across the nation
Our bodies are battlegrounds where men come to release rage. My father, brother, partner and friends cannot protect me and worst of all, I fear their protection for it is either their rage at my independent actions that threatens the fabric of my existence or their honour that will avenge me for my choices. As familiar as I may be with my own home and the home of others who I visit so often, they have all become dangerous. Death brings more safety to my existence than driving alone to a petrol station after 5pm or overstaying at a male-friend’s house or even going out to receive my FoodPanda order past 8pm.
I don’t want to paint over the “progressive Pakistan” narrative with a misogynist brush because I have seen women progress in the past few years, from something as small as seeing more women drive around town to witnessing us create a space for ourselves in higher office. However, this progression seems performative when witnessed in the context of the tragedy that women, as citizens, are facing across the nation.
Quratulain, a mother of 4, was murdered by her husband
The HRCP (Human Rights Commission of Pakistan) reports that four women are killed in dowry related deaths in Pakistan everyday. The ASF (Acid Survivors Foundation) reported that about 150 women suffer an acid attack every year in Pakistan. Furthermore, one in five homicides in Pakistan is the result of honour killings and 92 percent of the time, the spouse is the perpetrator with the highest occurring reason being an extramarital affair. In a study done by Rubeena Zakar, 60 percent of married women are victims of severe psychological violence of which 54 percent have developed a poor state of mental health. These studies not only point to the continuous and rising mental and physical abuse women suffer at the hands of men that they are accustomed to call family, but also point to the larger problem of a collective ignorance by the state, judiciary and police.
The past week leading up to Eid has heightened all these issues and urged us to realise the severity of these statistics and the close proximity of murderers. Quratulain was murdered in the province next to me, and I stayed silent. Saima was shot in the city next to me, and I stayed silent. Noor was beheaded in the sector next to me, and I don’t want to stay silent. Along with the men who perpetuate this crime, the state of Pakistan and our judiciary is complicit in each murder. My country’s incompetence to not only deny, but delay justice for women like me, around me and near me makes their hands bloodier each day.
Quratulain was murdered in the province next to me, and I stayed silent. Saima was shot in the city next to me, and I stayed silent. Noor was beheaded in the sector next to me, and I don’t want to stay silent
Apart from forcing our Prime Minister to take notice of these murders, we must demand our judiciary to pass substantial laws that safeguard female bodies that are preyed on by brute men. If you are someone, know someone or operate in a workplace that gives you access to someone who is politically or judicially influential, you’re in a position of privilege. It is your social and moral responsibility to bring this conversation to the table and ask for solutions from the people in power. To my women who have birthed this nation not once but twice, it is our responsibility to dish the uncomfortable conversation of sexual and verbal misconduct at the breakfast, lunch and dinner tables that conventionally serve silence on these topics.
All the women I know fear bringing up daughters in a country that turns a blind eye to Quratulain, Saima and Noor. How will we isolate our daughters and expect them to still enjoy the experience of childhood? How can women carry girls when they fear she will be threatened at conception, in her first homeland - the womb? How will we let her be independent when the price of being a woman is being a battleground for male rage? We need to recognize the order of power and begin demanding legislative action to prevent a new hashtag every other day.
I should not be bargaining for my life every day.
Your silence is not a tax that you’re supposed to pay for your safety.
There should be no price for our existence.
We birthed this nation, and we demand that it treat us as citizens who belong here equally.
Citations:
Ajmal, Umer Bin (25 August 1999). “World:South Asia Bride burning ‘kills hundreds’” - Dawn.
Kapoor, Sushma (June 2000). “Domestic Violence Against Women and Girls” (PDF) - Innocenti Digest (6): 7. ISSN 1028-3528.
Rodriguez, Alex (May 29, 2012). “Pakistan offers little justice for victims of acid attacks” - Los Angeles Times.
Dobson, Roger (2009). “”Honour killings” are a public health problem for Pakistan” - British Medical Journal. 338: 739.
Zakar, Rubeena; Zakar, Muhammad; Mikolajczyk, Rafael; Kraemer, Alexander (2013). “Spousal Violence Against Women and Its Association With Women’s Mental Health in Pakistan” - Health Care for Women International. 34 (9): 795–813. doi:10.1080/07399332.2013.794462. PMID 23790086. S2CID 36059658.
