From Orya Maqbool to Aamir Liaquat, everyone is freaking out: Have women no shame? Do we not take pride in helping our brothers hunt for their socks? Shouldn’t we be grateful — we are women, blessed by nature, veiled and protected from the public — and now we want to discard that prestige? For what? Feminism has gone ‘too far’.
Of course, we expected this from the Mard Brigade — to descend with self-righteous hate every time a woman leaves her chaar diwari . Traditional masculinity has always had personal stakes in protecting ‘family values’, but the reproach is more confusing, even hurtful, when it comes from other women.
Women like Yasra Rizvi and Veena Malik, who are aligning with men — women who have resisted traditional codes of femininity by challenging the public-private boundary in their own lives — are now the same ones calling the Aurat March posters ‘vulgar’, saying they dilute the movement’s message and take away from its ‘real causes’.
These women want to support the March, they claim, but they are wary of the kind of feminism that has no qualms exiting the sphere of respectability.
These kinds of comments validate the male detractors’ cries and threaten to delegitimise the March, but more urgently, they force the rest of us into a fragile, perilous position.
Lest the entire movement be written off on the basis of a few posters and we lose the few people we have gathered on our side, we must clarify our politics and justify our purpose.
And so it is purpose we turn to. From fiery Twitter feeds to family WhatsApp groups, feminists of all ages have been engaging with critics to defend the March.
The most popular counter-argument, so far, is that the selection of ‘indecent’ posters does not represent the totality of the March’s politics.
That in fact, those who think the March didn’t address ‘actual’ feminist issues have probably never bothered to look up the manifesto, a comprehensive set of purposeful demands: An end to violence; environmental and economic justice; and reproductive rights.
To drive the point home, people have been posting photographs showing the posters that didn’t get as much air-time, posters addressing the range of ‘important’ causes that news anchors have accused the March of ignoring, like education, inheritance and marital rights.
In an Instagram story, Aurat March Lahore shared some of these with the caption: “If someone tells you the March didn’t address Real issues, send them this post.”
On national television, March organisers are repeatedly presenting this argument, and defending the March further: Since it was an open event guided by the principle of inclusivity, the posters could not possibly be policed.
Another organiser, when put on the spot about the poster Khana garam kardungi, bistar khud garam karlo , conceded that perhaps it shouldn’t have been there, but followed this with a quick jab at the media’s obsession with provocative posters over ‘real’ news.
Even in tough spots, and in the face of intense backlash and cyberbullying, feminists have been holding their ground admirably.
At the same time, much of this is the language of appeasement, and while one can understand how these arguments work in our favour, we have to be careful not to pacify.
This is a precarious moment in time. We must step back and consider what narratives we are collectively cementing. The boundaries of respectability cannot be one of them.
And yet they are. Because what are the implications of redirecting people to the manifesto when they bring up the posters? What separations are coded in the action of holding up this manifesto as a qualification of ‘real’ issues?
When we use the language of real and serious, we create a distinction between ‘actual’ issues and 'pretended' ones. When we rush to clarify that we have included ‘important’ causes in our demands, we suggest that other causes are unimportant.
We allow feminism to discriminate and gate keep, and this gatekeeping is patriarchy’s way of reinforcing the binary of purpose vs pleasure, where the feminism of purpose (health, education, marital rights) is ‘good’ feminism, and the feminism of pleasure (sexual politics, bodily autonomy, agency over time and leisure) is ‘bad’ feminism, ‘immoral’ and ‘frivolous’.
Examine: Can feminism be fun? In Lyari, it is