A Quiet Revolution

IT’S not easy being a Pakistani woman. If you’re raped, you could beimprisoned for adultery under the Hadoud ordinance which was promulgated by a militarydictator and is being implemented by a ‘democratic’ woman prime minister. If youwant to speak your mind, you have to either be a member of the super-elite or keep yourmouth shut and bow to feudal social norms. And the twin forces of religious conservatismand macho authoritarianism ensure that the nation-state to which you belong can nevercompletely belong to you.

Nevertheless, there are a few in this society, which is far more traditional thanIndia, who have—metaphorically speaking—burnt their burqas. Lawyer Asma Jehangirbattles relentlessly for minority rights and risks death threats from the clergy;journalist Jugnu Mohsin writes columns of political satire that have been the target ofofficial persecution. Lubna Kamal and many others like her work in an NGO which is oftenstrongly critical of the government. Farhat Mustafeez is a salesgirl, Dr Shehla Akram is anutritionist, Amina Mehmood models regularly and collegian Farha Sayeed says shedoesn’t want to get married. The professional Pakistani woman is an indication of apre-modern society tortuously giving way to modern impulses.

"One of the great motivators for working women in Pakistan," says Kamal, whohas worked with the Lahore chapter of the Shirkatgah NGO for many years, "is the factthat inflation is up, items like bread and oil cost more and women need to work. A numberof women work at urban clerical jobs, or become nurses or teachers simply because theyhave no choice." And with the dissemination of ’90s wisdom via satellite TV,fathers must listen to what their daughters are trying to tell them.

Indeed, Pakistan today has some very distinguished daughters, apartfrom the prime minister herself and the Pakistani ambassador to the US, Maleeha Lodi. RanaSheikh is the new managing tunes of the enclave of land hewn away from a bloodstainedsubcontinent. They are often related to the powerful men who keep alive the Pakistanistate: wives of businessmen, daughters of politicians and sisters of army officers. Nowonder the Indus Valley is their playground, a place where they may bring out theirmagazines or design their clothes, protected by their menfolk.바카라 웹사이트

"But a revolution is brewing elsewhere, too, not just among upperclass women," says nutritionist Shehla Akram. "It’s not upper class womenonly who work. Today, young girls are selling everything from encyclopaedia to creditcards; they are software engineers, air-hostesses and even work in banks." And whatproblems do they face? Amina Mehmood, a 16-year-old model, says although she is allowed tomodel by her parents, she can only show her face and her clothes. "There are anincreasing number of young women who model but there can never be a Miss Pakistan becausethe government will not allow us to wear swimsuits or represent the country."

Farhat Mustafeez works as a salesgirl in Lahore’s newest trophy, a western-styledepartmental store called Pace, reportedly set up by the most famous father-in-law in thecountry, Sir James Goldsmith. "Pace is different from other stores," saysFarhat. "It’s upmarket and respectable, so we could get away with workinghere. " Most salesgirls here are not from elite backgrounds, but their parents haveallowed them to work because Pace is glitzy, patrolled by security guards day and night."Since we are mostly students, we earn a little by working here. Our workingconditions are good," smiles Farhat. Patriarchy cossets its women, so those who havetaken the first few steps towards freedom are indulged. But when it comes to greaterfreedom, old restrictions continue: for example, none of the girls at Pace can bephotographed.

Elite women are not completely free either. Asma Jehangir, one of the founder-membersof the Women Action Forum, which was very active against the Zia regime, successfullychallenged the dictator’s rules about detention. She has taken up cases of womenimprisoned under the zina law (in Pakistan, a raped woman must provide evidence inthe form of male witnesses that she was not a willing partner) and is now fighting onbehalf of Salamat Masih, the illiterate boy who was charged of blasphemy for allegedlywriting the Prophet’s name. She has been the target of repeated attacks and now movesaround with a police escort.

"A handful of bearded people are not Pakistan, although they want to pushthemselves in by intimidation," says Jehangir. "There are a large number ofPakistani women who have a clear objective. It is not simply a question of economicindependence. In the ’80s, the women’s movement had a solid base and till todaythe struggle continues to make Pakistan take a liberal road. But I fail to see why thereisn’t a united opposition, why people don’t realise what would happen if we tookthe other (non-liberal) road." She receives little support from male colleagues."When I was starting I was encouraged and patronised at the same time. Now that Ihave started doing well, I am perceived as a threat and there is resentment andcriticism." But she says, she could not have done what she did without support fromlike-minded friends. At a remembrance ceremony for Razia Bhatti at the Lahore Press club,journalists, NGO workers and artists gathered: a group of liberals-in-retreat in a countrystill vulnerable to non-democratic options.

"There are many women journalists in Pakistan probably because women tend to bemore idealistic than men," says Jugnu Mohsin, editor of the Lahore-based FridayTimes. "The Indian press is dull compared to the Pakistani one; here there is anadversarial relationship with the government. We go out on political campaigns, weinterview people and have to face a great deal of sexual harassment. But once you haveestablished your identity, life becomes much easier." Educated women from ‘goodfamilies’ have worked in progressive papers since Independence and the women ofKarachi, Pakistan’s trendy city, have taken journalism very far. The magazine editedby Bhatti had an all-woman staff, barring a couple of male reporters. Across the border,free press is still young, in the sum-mertime of its activist years, unlike the oldercynicism of India’s fourth estate. Women are some of the important conscience-keepersof a nation which in true feudal fashion respects class more than it does gender."The minute I open my mouth," says journalist Beena Sarwar, "people realisethat I am from a privileged background, so I am in most instances allowed to do what Iwant."

There are other reasons why there are so many women journalists inPakistan. "The fact is," says Imrana Khwaja, "a number of men simply do notread and write English as well as some women, so women inevitably get writing and editingjobs." In the rugged ethos of gun-toting landlords, journalism is still a soft optionto be carried out by women, while Real Men engage in the more virile tasks of tendingtheir land, businesses and constituencies. The entirely middle-class virtue of educatedmen as salaried professionals is almost absent in Pakistan. But increasingly, educatedupper-class women, who don’t need to make a living, can be as professional as theywant, within husband-dictated limits of course.

바카라 웹사이트But what of the other Pakistan, the Pakistan where women areunprotected by the law or by wealth? The record of human resource development is abysmal.Illiteracy is rising, yet there is little money for education or economic planning.Although the 5,000 registered NGOs continue to work among women, their target is nowherenear fulfilment. "In villages, women have their own way of dealing withinjustice," says Kamal. She narrates an incident reported by Shirkatgah, where awoman whose husband married again prevented the marriage from being consummated by puttingher own breastmilk in both their cups of tea, declaring that they were now brother andsister. "When the jirga (village assembly) met, it was held that the man andhis second wife could not live together. Of course she lost him too, but at least sheprevented him from marrying again." The Shirkatgah holds training programmes inIslamic law, para-legal workshops, and commissions studies on women and law and otheraspects.

In spite of these efforts, the ‘modern’ Pakistani woman facesa conflicting future. Those who are free to do as they want are too well established insociety to attempt a fundamental break with the status quo; the middle-class salesgirlsare still too few in number to upset the existing order. And the rural poor may workbecause of economic necessity but they are denied justice. But then, there is AsmaJehangir to wage war on zina, there is Lubna Kamal to run training workshops andthere was Razia Bhatti to remind the government of its duties. In a masculine land of sardarsand waderas, they are women of history.