Violence & Abuse Against Women In Pakistan
An image of a figure holding a placard that states ‘silence is violence’.
Trigger warning: Mental health, abuse
Women paid a heavy price during the partition of India in 1947 and the creation of the nation-state, Pakistan. Rape, abuse and forced marriages and conversions were utilised as weapons of war between communities leading up to, during and after the tumultuous events. The wombs of our grandmothers were violated and traumatised. Wombs that carried the pre-print to our existence. The trauma inflicted on these women has been passed down through generations and stamped into the building blocks of our genome. Our genetics are informed by our ancestors’ experiences and shaped by our evolving environments. Our history is literally encoded within our DNA.
As a survivor, injustices against women touch me on a personal level. Each time these stories have reached my timeline, I can’t help but feel deep anger and feelings of hurt and betrayal. A lump rises in my throat and does not shift. It hurts. Something paralyses my brain and my body freezes as I stare at my screen trying to fathom how this could possibly be happening. Perhaps it’s déjà-vu or perhaps it comes from within; an uprooting reminder of our traumatic history.
Women across the subcontinent to this day face increasing levels of violence and abuse which subsequently adds to the existing personal and collective trauma held within our minds and bodies. In this post, I want to take a deeper look at women’s experiences in Pakistan in the wake of recent high-profile instances of violence and abuse against women there.
In May 2020, I found myself obsessing over the frequency of stories of violence and abuse in Pakistan. Desperately looking for updates on the perpetrator’s whereabouts, spending time trying to sift through headlines to build a picture of the victim’s life outside of this incident; their families, their background, their friends, their interests and everything in between and beyond. Trying to imagine events unfold, smells and sounds that have been consolidated in my memory set the scene for the zulm (pain) inflicted on women in Pakistan.
Just a month later, it all came to a standstill when I found myself in tears as my Twitter timeline updated with news of a senior cleric #muftiazizurrehman abusing a seminary student in Lahore, Pakistan. It was too much. It resulted in me ultimately deleting my social media accounts. Guilt from recognising my privilege in being able to switch off from the realities of life for many women made me reconsider but my mental health was deteriorating in front of me. I had to be mentally sane if I was going to use my voice for activism in the future.
After a month-long break and feeling able to deal with the swings of social media, I logged into my Twitter account to see an influx of cases of women being raped, abused and even killed by men in Pakistan.
Activists and women were desperately attempting to amplify these cases on social media to highlight the reality of what women face in Pakistan. Some of the amplified cases involved a mother and daughter beaten for asking for their rightful inheritance, Usman Mirza breaking into a hotel room and sexually assaulting a woman in front of her husband, Umer Memon torturing and killing his wife Qurutalain in front of her children in Hyderabad, Raza Ali shooting dead his wife and injuring his children in Peshawar, Zahir Jaffer kidnapping and beheading Noor Mukadem in Islamabad.
These were in July 2021 alone. Meanwhile, upon opposition by religious clerics, the Domestic Violence bill in Pakistan was stalled and Prime Minister Imran Khan announced it would be reviewed.
In this sick twist of events, it is evident that women’s safety is not a priority in Pakistan; and we may ask why it would be when positions of power are occupied by men who will often use their power to violate and invalidate women’s rights and experiences. The Prime Minister, Imran Khan has himself blamed fahashi (vulgarity) for the rise in abuse against women in Pakistan and stated pardah (facial & body covering) as an effective deterrent to “keep temptation in check”. The danger of placing the onus on Pakistani women to deter such crimes has once again been misplaced.
The complexities of families and the emphasis on maintaining a woman’s honour are huge barriers in preventing women from raising the alarm to early abuse and even walking away from violent and abusive relationships. Regardless of these, it is clear as day that Pakistan’s problem with violence against women has become impossible to ignore. It is evident that they’re not safe at home, in the city, with friends, with family, in public or in private. No extent of protection through restricting freedom is improving this epidemic in Pakistan.
Decades of subjugating women to second-class status through advising them to travel with a mahram, wearing appropriate clothing, lowering their gaze, not provoking men and avoiding speaking to or having male friends have not been an effective deterrent for men. Men are mainly raised to believe that if a woman’s image or actions arouse or provoke them, they have the power to act as they wish i.e. if a woman allows herself to be in a place or situation of potential violence then she is to blame for it. Perhaps one of the most sickening things is those male perpetrators are protected by patriarchal laws and law-enforcers (likely male) who mask their patriarchal views as religious which holds great value in a country attempting to replicate Riyasat-e-Madina. The outcome? Little to no justice for the victims.
What will it actually take for Pakistan to realise the depths to which patriarchy is strangling and silencing our women? It’s difficult to see beyond the social media responses to the sickening crimes described above; women blamed for being victims of abuse, for losing their honour, for tarnishing their families name, for ruining her marriage prospects, for ‘asking for it’, not wearing shalwar kameez but also wearing shalwar kameez in which men can distinguish that the female body has breasts and curves. When will we put the onus on men for their entitlement to women’s bodies under any mundane excuse?
On top of that, there are countless examples that we will never hear about; the women in villages without the platform to raise their voice (it’s vital that we acknowledge the zameen asmaan (vast) difference between the lives of the Pakistani elite and the lives of those living in rural villages here), blamed for supposedly enticing male attention, told that the best action is to remain silent, that “these things happen to women”. For each busted myth, another excuse is plucked out to prevent women from seeking justice. Enough is enough. How much silence must we endure before we cannot survive any longer? How much honour can we guard before our existence becomes merely a ghost of what we could have been? How many marriage proposals does it take to wipe out the trauma and nightmares of abuse?
In the midst of all this silence, what impact is this having on women’s mental health in Pakistan? In a country of 220 million with just 400 qualified psychiatrists, most of which will be practising in cities and only accessible to those who can afford such private healthcare, Western-psychiatric help will be out-of-reach for those most in need. We know those most vulnerable to violence and abuse are those who face disadvantages such as poverty, fewer years of formal education and low occupational status. With the literacy rate for women in Pakistan sitting at 37.5% according to a WHO report and the workforce in Pakistan of whom are women sitting at just 10%, women are statistically more at risk before we even consider other issues. Due to these same reasons, unemployed women have to rely on the income of a breadwinner and are seldom able to independently access mental health services.
It is worth noting here that Western psychiatry is not a faultless system of effective interventions and when applied to the global South is less effective comparatively where they are developed and standardised. It is also important that we acknowledge that the historical treatment of mental health and other ailments in Pakistan is rooted in spiritual and religious approaches of which we should refrain from labelling ineffective due to the lack of western approved evidence-based because generations have relied and thrived on these interventions long before modern psychiatric intervention existed.
Reliance on these therapies is more accessible and fulfilling for women who can confide in other women in these spaces and seek spiritual refuge at shrines dedicated to healing specific problems. I personally sought healing for my eczema a few years back at a shrine in Chakwal with a lake that is known to heal skin problems (yes, it worked). However, the usually all-male management and facilitation of these spaces mean that there is a danger for these to turn into breeding grounds for further violence and abuse of vulnerable women. Overall, It’s evident that liberation and safety for women cannot be achieved through better treatment access or attitudes to women alone because misogyny and gendered violence seep through every aspect of Pakistani society. Therefore, the approach going forward must consist of addressing the deeply entrenched systems that are contributing to the current demise of women. For example, the implementation of these services (Western and non-Western) would benefit from a lived experience-led approach in order to improve access to all services and ensure safety in these spaces. However, the lived experience led approaches requires the de-stigmatising of having these experiences in the first place.
You may have noticed that throughout this post, I haven’t stated many solutions to improve things for women in Pakistan. This is mostly because I honestly don’t know what the solution is. Like I mentioned above, for each busted myth, there is another misogynistic opinion that is rooted in the weaves of our being. It becomes harder to tackle without unity especially where other women invalidate the suffering and abuse of other women.
The journey to improving safety for women in Pakistan must begin and end with men. Amongst the cases of abuse, Pakistani men, including celebrities on Twitter were beginning to understand and call out the societal problem and role of all men in the violence and abuse against women. The spotlight should not and must not dim now. We must continue to shine a light on these injustices and maintain pressure on authorities to pursue change in the judiciary and in society.
Right from early-years education to the workplace, men must learn that women have the right to freedom and ownership over her body. Men must understand that regardless of what a woman does, there is no excuse to lay your hands on an unconsenting woman. Pakistani society must desperately address its obsession with virginity and the image of absolute angelic purity of women before marriage without holding men to the same standard. Men must understand and see beyond just the capability of their mothers, sisters, wives and daughters and apply these to other women too. Mental health services must be gendered and tailored to address the needs of women - this requires investment into women-led services and better facilitation of spiritual and religious healing that prioritises women’s safety.
I hope one day we can see a Pakistan that is safe and nurturing for women. I hope men advocate for women’s safety and treat women as their equals. A place where women can heal and be honest about their experiences without being shunned and feeling shamed. I hope women’s worth extends beyond their duty as daughters, sisters and wives and their potential to do so much more is recognised. One day inshaAllah.
By Humma Andleeb