Land of misogyny

Should we all just ask our daughters to leave Pakistan as quickly as possible? Should we be warning all women that they should expect no rights, no dignity, no sense of respect in a country that they can barely call home – because home is where you’re supposed to feel safe, and safe is not a word Pakistani women can use easily for what the country has become? Just recently, flashed across social media, were ugly images involving the sexual assault of a couple. This is not a rare occurrence – though the fact that this case’s video evidence went viral is what moved the police force to arrest the men responsible. Every day at least 11 women are raped in the country, and periodically we hear about the the rape of small girls – and boys – some no older than a few years in age. What drives and empowers monsters like Usman Mirza – the man in the viral video – into thinking they’ll get away with their vile acts? How is it that our collective outrage (mostly of men) is only reserved for women’s clothing or behaviour, but does not find a voice when it comes to cases of violence against women, or the dismal maternal mortality rate, or women’s lack of access to education or healthcare? What is it about Malala or Aurat March that riles us? Is it the archaic, patriarchal structures we have constructed that can’t absorb women stepping out of their male-defined roles? Do we even realise the consequences of the regressive society we have built?

The answers aren’t promising. To live in this country as a woman is a daily – nay, constant – challenge. The vulnerability even cuts across class and financial boundaries though the more powerless you are, the worse your ordeal as a Pakistani woman. And the fear never stops. The lofty myth of the ‘chaar diwaari’ has been shattered again and again, with scores of women killed for ‘honour’ by those that are supposed to protect them. While there are encouraging signs of women breaking glass ceilings in various spheres every now and then, the system is designed to discourage and prevent them from becoming independent. Even something as important as the Domestic Violence Act tabled by Human Rights Minister Shireen Mazari has had to be sent to the Council of Islamic ideology for review as to its Islamic provisions. Why do our lawmakers fear even debating in parliament a law that shields women from physical and emotional abuse inside their homes – given that according to surveys the majority of women in the country suffer domestic abuse in one form or the other?

But how can we answer these questions in a nation where those that sit in the highest offices of the land hold extremely regressive views regarding women and crimes such as rape? What can we expect when every action, every piece of attire, every word spoken by women in prominent places is met with derogatory comments and abuse? The only way forward is to demand that this state finally starts to see women as equal citizens, and ensures that access to equal justice and equal laws is available to them as per the constitution. This change is not going to come easy but is essential for women to be able to breathe freely. The prevalent culture of impunity for aggressors, a regressive mindset at the top, and the ugliness of social media all have to end if we are to progress. We can start by simply believing that women are not objects or animals to be guarded and tamed. They are people, and there must be a cost for hurting people.