This is a story representative of what happens when any woman starts talking about the gross inequality she is subjected to in her everyday life....
aurat march
How many people here identify as feminists?” My student asked her contemporaries before she launched into her presentation. Unsurprisingly, only a couple of hands rose tentatively in the air.
After the unenthusiastic show of hands, the young girl lost her nerve and went off track. “I forgot to change any of the slides,” she told me later, “I got so upset.”
This is a story representative of what happens when any woman starts talking about the gross inequality she is subjected to in her everyday life. She gets overpowered and overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who ‘disagree’ with her basic rights.
As a university lecturer, I get to hear my students’ candid views in a safe environment. I tell them at the beginning of the semester that they can freely share their points of view and be vocal if they disagree with me, which I am glad to say they often do. In this particular class, they were asked to present their perspective on a social issue closest to their heart. Some chose to talk about democracy and the government, some were concerned with the taboo of mental health, and this one girl wanted to talk about her right to choose.
At the time I felt like she was mistaken. Not because she was so sick and tired of her humanity being questioned that she lost her nerve, but because she thought she would be heard well in a room full of products of the patriarchy. For women who have to prepare for war every time they leave the house, even a seemingly innocuous classroom presentation is a battleground.
“Feminism is not about hating men. It’s about equality and about women being able to choose for themselves,” she said tearfully, to the poker-like faces of her classmates staring back at her.
What is it about the word feminism that makes young people shirk it like a virus? These young people who will pioneer tomorrow’s world are downright scared of being called feminists. Not only that, but young women and non-binary folk trying to navigate the world as themselves are put down, gaslighted, and quite recently, thrown stones at.
This viewpoint is embarrassingly permeating the higher end of the academia as well. My supervisor told me in so many words that my research about the representation of Pakistani women needs to be a critique of feminism before it is anything else. This begs the question: why are we so obsessed with the imperfection of the feminist movement in Pakistan than worried about the injustices against women we see every single day?
The answer is simple: the patriarchy will not go down without a fight. Those in power have enjoyed the perks of being preferred for thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of years. The real reason you see everything from reluctant support to acidic vitriol for Aurat March participants is because there is a real threat to the cornerstones of this man-centred world. They see women, queer folk, the differently-abled and other minorities chanting together of a freedom they kept us away from. They see us convening in large numbers for a taste of the liberty we have yet to snatch from the system and it makes them very, very angry; almost as much as a woman interrupting them.
When I arrived at the March, there were policemen surrounding Frere Hall with a secure entrance set up at the main gate. Stags weren’t allowed but, as usual, men were trying to enter unchaperoned. The organisers did a great job separating real supporters of the March from those who were trying to infiltrate and sabotage it, which played a big role in ensuring safety.
But this wasn’t where the feeling of solidarity and comradeship sprang from; the best thing about the Aurat March was its inclusivity. On the stage was a Christian pastor talking about religious minority rights, there were transgender women, men, and NB folk boldly being themselves, queer people waving the pride flag unabashed, Baloch women protesting forced disappearances, students bringing sexual harassment on campus to the frontlines, working class women demanding better housing, young women, old women, women dressed in burkas, women dressed in skirts and jeans, women with children, men with their friends and sisters, men with their wives and daughters - it cannot be described as anything but inclusive and intersectional.
The posters ranged from straightforward statements like ‘Beti Parhao Beti Bachao’ to snarky one-liners like ‘Corona Se Nahi Mard Se Dar Lagta Hai.’ The issues of poor women and minority women were addressed, the Kasur child abuse epidemic was highlighted, and rape culture via gendered language was exposed. All strata of women had a different manifestation of the patriarchy to address; each poster came with its own demand and each was welcomed by the attendees.
The very air at the March was like a whiff of sweet-smelling freedom, one yet to engulf us fully. Women were dancing to folk music, children frolicking around eating ice lollies, elders sitting in chairs and chanting the slogans in unison with thousands of others. The huge crowd of people who showed up despite the threats, indifferent to the relentless sun, uplifted my spirits - there is still hope for tomorrow. No dogma brings us together but a common vision for the future; a future where everyone, regardless of who they are, what they look like, and what they believe in, are free to find their own ways to live without any judgement or persecution on choice.
Before I close off this article, let me concede that there are inconsistencies within the feminist movement in Pakistan, as is true for any political movement you see in its infancy. But before you find fault with the emotional outbursts of women oppressed for thousands of years, there needs to be a conversation about what murderous extremes men go to when we ‘make them’ angry.
My student perhaps was not mistaken, then, to speak out against the slow poisoning of the patriarchy every woman in Pakistan is subjected to on a daily basis. Perhaps angering the simple misogynist and marching on for our rights is the best way to go, waiting for them all to expose themselves one at a time.
