With the rise of female empowerment, increased access to education, and a slow but visible shift in societal norms, the dynamics of matchmaking and marriage in Pakistan are also evolving. You! takes a look…
Growing up in a country like Pakistan, where marriage is often considered the ultimate milestone for a woman, many of us were raised amidst certain deeply rooted myths - none more prevalent than the renowned ‘doctor bahu’. For generations, young women were pressured into pursuing medicine - not necessarily out of a love for science or healing, but to enhance their marriage prospects. A girl with an MBBS degree wasn’t seen as a potential surgeon, but rather as a more desirable rishta candidate - a trophy to secure a wealthy, stable man and impress his family.
This deeply ingrained cultural expectation has now been academically framed under a term that is both fitting and eye-opening: Bridal Capital. The concept refers to the transformation of human capital (education, grooming, skills) into bridal capital - a strategic investment by parents who believe that schooling their daughters will unlock access to higher-tier marriage proposals. For years, it was common to see girls discouraged from studying abroad or taking up jobs - not because of a lack of potential, but because ambition was thought to ruin their marital value.
But times are changing. With the rise of female empowerment, increased access to education, and a slow but visible shift in societal norms, the dynamics of matchmaking and marriage in Pakistan are also evolving.
Women are increasingly seen as individuals with aspirations, agency, and earning power, not just commodities up for selection by prospective in-laws. However, this transformation has brought with it a new wave of complexities particularly in the age of dating and marriage apps.
There are apps on the market that are specifically designed to help people find life partners. In a country where more than 80 per cent of marriages are arranged (according to Gallup Pakistan, a leading survey research and consultancy firm), these apps offer something relatively revolutionary – choice. These matrimonial websites or platforms often feature profiles with detailed information, photos, and communication tools to facilitate interaction.
For many women, particularly those in their late 20s and early 30s, these platforms present a chance to exercise autonomy and break away from the traditional rishta process that often sidelines their preferences. No more awkward tea-serving meetings with an entire family evaluating you based on your ‘chai-pouring’ skills. Instead, you can swipe, chat, and explore compatibility on your own terms – at least in theory.
Being in my 30s, a PhD student, and a woman with a strong career trajectory, I have been nudged more times than I can count to join these platforms. Female friends encourage me to “take control” and “look for someone who matches your vibe.” In principle, I agreed. I appreciated the societal progression. I thought: Maybe we’re finally moving toward more equal relationships.
However, reality quickly disrupted the idealism. I first heard of Bumble, an app popular among Western audiences, through a married male colleague at work. When I questioned why a married man was on a dating platform, his casual response floored me, “It’s for PR purposes only.”
He explained that he and many other married men used these apps to ‘connect socially’. I found this disturbing not just because of the duplicity but because I had been on the receiving end of such so-called social connections. My only question is this: do the women these men are chatting with know that they’re married? If not, isn’t that the exact opposite of the “open communication” these platforms claim to support? But it doesn’t stop there. Some of my female friends also admit to using dating apps while being in committed relationships under the guise of ‘keeping their options open."
Changing priorities
The traditional rishta culture has long been criticised for objectifying women valuing them based on skin tone, household skills, and educational degrees that align with patriarchal preferences. Yet now, as women step into positions of financial and social power, the same checklist culture appears to be reversing and men are on the receiving end.
With female empowerment has come new forms of expectations, and increasingly, a man’s worth is being assessed primarily through his financial standing. In conversations with female peers, I have observed an alarming pattern: terms like “stability,” “financially secure,” and “has his own apartment and car” now dominate the criteria for prospective grooms.
Social media platforms like Instagram are becoming informal matchmaking tools. Many women I know proactively follow, DM, and keep tabs on men they consider ‘prospects’. Sometimes, this starts with a mutual interest; often, it’s a strategic move. Where rishta aunties once collected bio data, women now do their own scouting - scrolling through tagged photos, LinkedIn profiles, and stories to piece together a man’s financial status and lifestyle. The line between agency and opportunism is starting to blur.
What began as a trending audio clip - “Looking for a guy in finance, 6’5, blue eyes” is no longer a joke. It has become a mindset. In my early 20s, online tips and tricks revolved around DIY crafts and skincare routines. Now, the trending advice shared in women’s circles revolves around which malls, coffee shops, and gym chains are best for scoping out eligible, wealthy men.
It’s not uncommon to hear discussions like, “You should visit XYZ coffee shop on Sundays; a lot of bankers go there after work” or “Get a co-working space in Defence; the startup crowd is loaded.” It’s strategic, calculated and unsettling.
While women are finally taking control of their narratives, this shift hasn’t necessarily created an environment of equality. In many ways, it has produced a mirror image of the very systems we once fought to dismantle. The female gaze is now often just as transactional as the male gaze once was.
Take, for instance, my friend M, who encouraged me to try these apps. She once called me a cynic for being skeptical of men on dating platforms. Just two months after our conversation, she called me - shaken. A friend of hers, let’s call her S, had gone on a coffee date with someone she met on an app. On the way there, he casually asked her for physical favours, packaging it like a business proposition. When she refused, he politely carried on, had coffee, and dropped her back. No confrontation. Just quiet manipulation.
Later, the same friend matched with another man who seemed perfect. Within weeks, he sent a formal rishta, and their wedding date was fixed. Weeks before the event, he pressured her into intimacy and vanished afterwards, along with his family.
These stories are horrifying, yet far from rare.
But what disturbed me even more was how the blame narrative unfolded. While I deeply empathise with the emotional trauma these women experienced, I also believe in accountability. Being an independent woman does not mean abandoning caution. Just as we expect men to act with integrity, we must also hold ourselves accountable for the decisions we make.
Today, the very systems designed to oppress women are being repackaged and applied to men. In a struggling economy and inflation-ridden society, many men are reduced to numbers on a pay cheque. Their emotional intelligence, values, or long-term vision rarely matter unless accompanied by financial muscle.
More than one man I’ve spoken to has shared that the pressure to “earn more, be more, give more” has reached toxic levels. The emotional burden of always needing to provide is beginning to parallel the decades-long pressure women have faced to please.
Meanwhile, women in committed relationships casually browse apps for “better options.” The justification? “I’m just exploring. If something better comes along, why not?” In these cases, better almost always equates to richer.
This isn’t a call to return to old, patriarchal systems. Nor is it a defence of the toxic behaviours women have historically endured. It is, instead, a call for balance. Equality does not mean reversing the roles of oppressor and oppressed; it means dismantling the very system of evaluation and comparison that has governed our relationships for so long. As a society, we need to foster emotional intelligence, integrity, and mutual respect as the bedrock of our matchmaking culture - whether through matrimonial apps, rishta aunties, or organic meet-cutes. If we want relationships to thrive, they must be built on compatibility, not the commodification of either gender.
We have come a long way from the ‘doctor bahu,’ but let’s not replace her with the ‘guy in finance, 6’5’ without learning the lessons in between.
Bisma Shaikh serves as a senior communication manager with expertise in PR and strategic communications. She can be reached at bisma.shaikh@yahoo.com
