| I |
n 2010, Pakistan passed a landmark law to protect women from harassment at work. The Protection against Harassment of Women at the Workplace Act was celebrated as a major step toward equality and dignity. For the first time, women were told they had a legal right to safety at work.
Fifteen years later, that promise remains only partly fulfilled. Even after a 2022 amendment, the law still focuses narrowly on formal workplaces and misses the wider spaces where most Pakistani women live and work — homes, streets, farms, markets, and digital platforms.
The 2010 Act required all public and private organizations to adopt a code of conduct and form inquiry committees to handle complaints. It was an important recognition of women’s rights, but it also confined the idea of harassment to acts of a sexual nature.
That limited scope was reinforced in the 2021 Nadia Naz case, when the Supreme Court ruled that the Act covered only sexual harassment, not gender-based discrimination or verbal abuse. The decision left women who faced humiliation, exclusion, or hostility without sexual intent outside the law’s protection.
The 2022 amendment tried to address this gap. It broadened definitions of “workplace,” “employee,” and “harassment,” covering freelancers, domestic workers, and online spaces. It also added “gender discrimination” as a form of harassment. But these improvements did not fundamentally change the law’s structure. It still assumes an employer–employee relationship and a formal office environment — realities that exclude most working women in Pakistan.
More than 60 percent of Pakistani women work informally, often without contracts or legal protection. They labor in homes, on farms, in factories, or on the streets. They are among the least protected groups, yet the law does not provide clear channels for them to report abuse. Domestic workers and online freelancers, for example, rarely have access to the committees or ombudsmen the Act relies on.
The system itself is reactive. It waits for women to file complaints — something many are unable or afraid to do due to fear of retaliation, social stigma, or lack of trust in institutions. The process assumes awareness and access to justice that most women simply do not have.
In reality, harassment in Pakistan extends far beyond office walls. It happens in homes, schools, hospitals, buses, and online spaces. A domestic helper harassed in a private home or a commuter harassed on public transport cannot use the law’s mechanisms. For many, there is no “workplace” as the law understands it.
In reality, harassment in Pakistan extends far beyond office walls. It happens in homes, schools, hospitals, buses, and online spaces. A domestic helper harassed in a private home or a commuter harassed on public transport cannot use the law’s mechanisms.
Media and online platforms have made the problem worse. Instead of promoting accountability, sensational coverage often turns women’s suffering into public spectacle. Harmful online content fuels misogyny and objectification rather than respect.
The law also operates in isolation. It is not linked to other systems — such as labor inspection, cybercrime, or child protection laws — which could help create a more holistic approach. Without coordination between institutions, prevention programs, and public education, it remains a procedural law rather than a social tool for change.
What Pakistan needs is a broader vision of protection. The law should cover all forms of work and all kinds of harassment, including gender-based hostility and discrimination. It should also include clear provisions for domestic and informal workers, students, and children.
Institutionally, the government could create “gender justice desks” at district levels where any woman can report harassment — whether at work, home, school, or online. The Ombudsman’s system should be linked with labor and social welfare departments, and regulators should monitor online and media spaces for misogynistic or exploitative content.
Cultural change is equally important. Employers, teachers, media professionals, and local communities all need training and awareness to prevent harassment rather than only punish it after the fact. The national conversation must move from “protection at work” to “dignity everywhere.”
Women’s safety is not just a moral issue — it is an economic one. When women feel unsafe, they withdraw from public life and work, limiting national productivity. Reducing gender-based insecurity could add billions to Pakistan’s GDP and strengthen households and communities.
Pakistan’s Constitution guarantees equality, dignity, and participation of women in all fields. Islam, too, upholds women’s protection as a collective duty. Yet Pakistan ranks at the bottom of the Global Gender Gap Index, showing how far reality lags behind its ideals.
The 2010 law and its 2022 amendment are steps forward, but they still focus on the easiest area — the formal workplace. They do not reach the places where most women actually live and earn. True progress requires shifting from paperwork to practice, from punishment to prevention, and from workplace committees to nationwide gender justice.
For Pakistani women, dignity should not depend on where they work or what they earn. It should be a basic right — one guaranteed not only by law but by culture, community, and conscience. The real measure of justice is not how society reacts after harm, but how it prevents harm before it happens.
The writer is a public policy and inclusive development expert, former civil servant, and corporate lawyer. She can be reached at raania.ahsan1gmail.com