In a sense, the history of cricket is the history of conflict and un-equals. The colonial nature of cricket is no secret, and racial, class and gender roles being entrenched in the game are the legacy of its origins. However, over the past few decades, there have been efforts to evolve the game to suit modern sensibilities. Consequently, the women’s version of the sport has never enjoyed a higher profile. But while gendered stereotypes of women have permeated the game, like all spheres of life, it would be a great disservice to cricket to suggest that the inclusion of women has been a recent phenomenon. For instance, there are accounts of women playing the sport since the 18th century in Britain, wearing full dresses no less.
In Pakistan, the story of women’s cricket is a struggle of individuals who faced societal stigma and institutional barriers for their desire to play cricket just like their mostly male heroes. The emergence of women’s professional cricket in Pakistan began in the 1990s, but in its formative years the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) played no role. Instead, the development and promotion of women’s game was spearheaded by the Pakistan Women Cricket Control Association (PWCCA). In fact, the government and the PCB actively resisted the promulgation of the non-male version of the sport on ‘religious grounds’. In 2005, however, the PCB, now with its own ‘women’s wing’, subsumed the hitherto autonomous women’s board and began overseeing women’s cricket affairs. The loss of institutional independence from the male PCB was the subject of legal battles. Indeed, there is a powerful case to be made for the merits of an organisation solely dedicated to the administration of women’s game, given the lack of female representation in the upper echelons of the PCB. For instance, only two out of the 19 individuals in the PCB’s top management are women (one of them is the ‘honorary’ general manager of women’s cricket, while the other is a director of marketing), while no woman is on the board of governors.
With the women’s cricket team out-performing their male counterparts in the parallel 2016 T20 world cups, many Pakistanis have started to pay attention. Most of the attention, while well-intentioned, is either to contrast women cricketers with the men (“If women can do it, why can’t you”) or focus exclusively on the fact that they are Pakistani and female rather than the professional sportspersons that they are. The campaign to support them is a powerful one and while welcome, it is intrinsically limited since it appeals to patronising tropes and stereotypes about the supposed frailty of women in order to make its point.
It is unsurprising that the women’s cricket team faces a double disadvantage when it comes to salaries; they get paid less than their male counterparts in Pakistan, while at the same time they earn far less than their female counterparts in other countries as well. There needs to be an acknowledgement that women athletes in Pakistan battle an intersection of disadvantage in terms of equal pay, as well as a vast disparity in terms of the facilities provided to them and the quality of the coaching staff.
Article 25, section two of the Constitution of Pakistan guarantees that that “there shall be no discrimination on the basis of sex”; this right is not subject to any internal qualifiers within the Article. There is latitude within the jurisprudence for these professional cricket players to assert their right to equal pay as well as equal facilities. The doctrine of “reasonable classification” based on a reasonable distinction based on “intelligible differentia” (PLD 1993 SC 341) rests on the sameness logic that the Article 25 is only attracted when there is a like-for-like comparison. The women’s cricket team, although playing in a parallel league to the men, is similarly situated to the men. Any differences that arise are from the devaluing of women’s athletes that happens at a societal level, not due to some intelligible inherent difference.
If anything, given the institutional disadvantages that the women’s team faces, it would not be out of step to compensate them above and beyond their male counterparts, who also benefit from endorsements, sponsorships and lucrative leagues including the male-only Pakistan Super League). The problem cannot be solved through laissez faire means, such as increased sponsorships, because equal pay is a right and cannot be substituted through the contributions of generous patrons.
As we prepare to welcome back our women’s team, it would be instructive to remember that despite its elitist origins, cricket has shown a remarkable ability to adapt. Players from decolonised nations were subjected to ingrained racism throughout the sport’s history. However, those very countries have not only come to dominate the sport but have also transformed it on their own terms. Innovative styles of bowling and fan cultures coming from the ‘global south’ have made the game unrecognisable from what it used to be. The next wave of transformation has to come from women. The masculine nature of cricket, with its built-in hierarchy, could use critique from its female participants. If given equal opportunity and a level playing field (both figuratively and literally), women’s cricket has the capacity to innovate and transform the game for the better.
The writer is a lawyer by training and is currently pursuing her post-graduate degree from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor