Not everyone is guilty of being unduly complacent, but I know I am. The lives of women in Pakistan are more often than not defined by self-sacrifice and precarity. Not mine, and perhaps not yours-for too many of us. We are guilty of taking this insignificant observation to be a sign of large-scale progress. Aspiring for equality, raising awareness, engaging in collective action-we do what we can and we believe we do our part. Yet, for some of us, it’s enough to just be “#feminists.” How many of us can say that we’ve ever done more than the bare minimum? How many of us hold our principles close, but our facades closer?
We assembled at Aurat March. We occupied. We resisted. But let’s unpack this for a moment. Yes, the idea was, and still is, noble, but are we? Unlike what some of us believe, the fight is far from over. Months later, let us remember why we gathered and why we mobilised. We owe it to ourselves to reflect, to question that whilst some set out to make waves. Did the rest of us just float along with the current?
Firstly, and most importantly, we made our presence known. We marched to call for an end to violence against all women. We marched to demand that our voices cease to be silenced in the workplace. We marched for improved access to reproductive healthcare and information. We marched for our protection from sexual violence, and predators. We marched for the trans community, for wage equality, representation and education. We marched for the children, be they mine, or yours. Lastly, we marched for our planet, because otherwise, what was it all for?
The change we wish for is structural, tangible, and long-term
Now, raising consciousness is not to be taken lightly, and this is precisely the root of our problem. It is vital to understand that for a contemporary movement such as Aurat March, the principles outlined in its manifesto are anything but. It has always been necessary to challenge the discourse that maintains our oppression- yet, we should remember our efforts often also work against us. In the subcontinent, every step forward we take, we’re simultaneously made to take two steps back. The way in which we’re observed, reported, and mocked by traditional news media means that the waves we make are unlikely to reach the heights we had intended without additional on-the-ground effort. Some understand this, and it is their efforts that we should applaud.
The change we wish for is structural, tangible, and long-term. For those of us who are comfortable in the cocoons we inhabit, what can we say of the progress that has been made since? Do we know whether violence against women has lessened? Have we kept up with the women who toil away in the fields? Have we fought for a policy change that will bring rapists to justice? Have we lobbied to protect our bodily autonomy? Have we sought to aid marginalised communities, and learn of their struggles? Have we done anything to improve the wage gap or our representation in the media? Have we worked to lessen the number of girls that are prematurely forced out of education? Or have we followed Malala on twitter, and called it a day?
Perhaps the most crucial thing to note is that whilst we have our part, we mustn’t ever forget that it isn’t us at the frontlines. Tucked away at the end of an alley somewhere in Walton is a loan disbursement service by Akhuwat. This is where you and I can find the women whose resilience trumps ours every day. This too is a site of assembly, occupation, and resistance. Akhuwat is an organisation that aspires for nothing else but a nation in which solidarity and equality reign supreme. Seizing this traditionally male-dominated space, it is here through Akhuwat that the masjid reaches its full potential. Not just a house of God, but a house for the people- where equality is fought for every day.
It is here, in this small masjid that women assemble, occupy, and resist. It is here, that solidarity isn’t just a mantra, but a way of life, a state of being. It is here, that we can find the frontlines, where the way forward is paved. It is here that in the absence of misery, we find laughter and strength. It is here, that when questioned, women speak with unwavering voices, heads held high, comfortable in their skin. It is here, that we can find no ‘#feminists’, no complacency, and no despair. Just women, fighting for progress, to whom we owe it to be fair.
The writer works as a researcher in social development and is based in Lahore