A single woman, it seems, was inconceivable when the rules of this society were being laid down. A woman’s existence on her own and her attempt to navigate through the patriarchal corridors at every step of the way just to get past a single day with dignity did not factor in at any stage, at any place in Pakistan. Her entire existence, it seems, is gauged and determined in relation to the presence of a man in her life in the shape and form of either her father, brother, husband or son, without whose signature, permission and stamp she cannot even find a decent home to live in, get credit financing from a bank or even have her CNIC amended. This discrepancy persists despite Article 25 of the Constitution guaranteeing all citizens equality before law. In most cases when a woman seeks equality of access to opportunities and her fundamental rights, the quest is stigmatised and posed as a long and hard struggle that not many are socially and economically equipped to undertake.

Pakistan is a hard country for women. According to the Global Gender Gap Index 2018 of the World Economic Forum, Pakistan ranks 148th out of 149 countries in terms of gender parity, second only to Yemen. This number is based on disparities in terms of access to education, health, economic opportunities and political empowerment. These sectors form crucial aspects of the social fabric in which women find themselves at a serious disadvantage when it comes to survival and a life of dignity. In a country like Pakistan, both social norms and legal rules echo the patriarchal power structures. Given the division of labour at homes and at workplaces between the two genders, it is no surprise that women’s role and access to opportunities, resources and justice is limited such that not only do they suffer the consequences of the disparity but are also unable to break the cycle of violence and abuse that continues because of lack of this access.

The struggle is most profound in the case of divorced women or those seeking an end to their marriage by means of khula, through which a wife can initiate proceedings in the court and seek repudiation of the marriage in consideration of the benefits of the marriage, including dower, which she may have to give up in order to terminate the marriage contract. Comparing this with the right of the husband to pronounce talaq indicates that for a man, it is an administrative procedure under Section 7 of the Muslim Family Law Ordinance 1961, which he has to follow by sending a written notice to the chairman of the union council followed by a copy of the same to the wife. For her, on the other hand, putting an end to marriage means taking the proceedings to the court and subjecting her character and privacy to an adversarial forum that would not only be public, but also expensive, unfamiliar and susceptible to stigma scarring her, and perhaps her children, for life.

The questions of maintenance and child support are additional challenges that women have to face. Divorced women may only claim maintenance in their name during the 90-day period of iddat following the pronouncement of divorce. Thereafter, there is no obligation upon the husband to maintain his former wife. However, he may still be liable to pay maintenance for his children. "The burden of proof of establishing a nexus between his income and amount of maintenance is placed upon the former wife or mother of his children who finds herself in an unlikely position to access such records. In the absence of such evidence, courts fix the amount of maintenance as they deem appropriate, which in most cases is negligible and is not even likely to cover their educational expenses", says Robina Shaheen, a women rights worker.

Having terminated her marriage, the custody and guardianship of her children become another battle in the court of law which the former wife must fight. For minor children (son aged below 4 and daughter aged below 7) the mother is able to gain custody, however, under the Guardians and Wards Act of 1890, the courts are mandated to consider the welfare of the child(ren) as the paramount consideration in appointment of the guardian. ‘Welfare’ has been held to not be confined to the love and affection a parent feels towards the child but encompasses a more objective criterion in terms of the ability of the guardian to best secure the well being of the child. For the mother, her right to custody may be lost in the event of a second marriage, save for certain exceptions. Given that the father is the natural guardian, post these tender years of age, the custody is to revert back to the father unless compelling circumstances dictate otherwise, such as when the father’s home will not be an abode where the best interest of the child can be secured in terms of a healthy upbringing. For the mother, this is a long battle that ends only upon proving that father’s home is not where the welfare of the minor lies. Given the gender gap in terms of access to resources and economic opportunities, in most cases, she is not in a position to argue this successfully as her own abode, her job, timings and income may not be in her favour. Frequently she finds herself in a position where contracting a second marriage becomes a means of shielding herself from the challenges of being a single or a divorced woman in Pakistan. These instances compound to make women not only more vulnerable to loss of custody of their children but also less likely to seek divorce from abusive husbands in the first place.

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No amount of legal reform on paper can alleviate their hardship until and unless the broader context of access to education and economic opportunities and an operative level of gender equality are achieved in the society. For this, awareness, education and a new social contract will have to be rooted so that an alternative ideological basis can be advanced to rid the society of its patriarchal power structures. Without dismantling the social control as it exists, no real change in lives of the marginalised segments of the society can ensue.