IT is exhausting being a Pakistani woman. Sexism and misogyny are prevalent, normalised, and too often celebrated as part of our ‘culture’ or ‘values’. In recent days, the experiences and actions of women from across the socio-economic and ethnic spectrum, ranging from Dua Zehra and Shaari Baloch to Hina Rabbani Khar and Marriyum Aurangzeb, have reiterated the challenges women in our country face. To address them, our policymakers must look through the gender lens and start to tackle the structural drivers of sexism.

Pakistan’s sexism problem is no secret. A 2020 report by the United Nations Development Programme ranked Pakistan at the top of list of 75 countries where people have an anti-women bias, with 99.81 per cent of survey participants expressing at least one sexist view. The survey touched on various prejudiced tropes: that men make better political and business leaders than women; that it’s more important for men to receive a university education; that men deserve preferential access to jobs; and that it’s alright for men to beat their wives. This is what Pakistani women are up against.

This bias was evident in initial reactions to news that Dua Zehra had ‘fled’ her home to marry a man of her choosing. She was slammed for being disobedient and inconsiderate to her parents. Her ‘elopement’ was portrayed as an attack on her family’s ‘honour’. The criticism came from women, including celebrities, and implied that girls must not be a nuisance or embarrassment for their families.

Less attention was paid to her claim that, according to her, she was fleeing an abusive domestic situation and the threat of a forced marriage. Or to the fact that the only recourse a young girl has in Pakistan is to exchange one man’s protection for another’s. As the sensational news headlines fade, there is little discussion on the serious questions Dua Zehra’s case raised; questions about youth safeguarding and social services provision, police negligence and opportunities for girls outside the home.

Sexism was normalised during Imran Khan’s rule.

Shaari Baloch’s case belongs to a different category, but is more problematic. Her decision to launch a suicide bombing to highlight a socio-political grievance is totally unacceptable, and marks a dangerous turn in Baloch militancy which must be understood and carefully managed by our security forces. But embedded in our shock at this condemnable development in the terror threat landscape is an element of sexism.

Baloch women have increasingly taken to the streets to protest against resource scarcity, poor service delivery and missing persons. Their peaceful protests against legitimate grievances have not received an adequate response, implying that their voice does not matter, and that they are expected to suffer endlessly in silence. Baloch’s heinous act ruptures that silence, and will unfortunately and counterproductively lead to further pressure on Baloch women who will now be perceived as potential threats. What may get missed as security considerations get prioritised is the level of desperation among non-violent, marginalised Baloch individuals and their lack of political recourse.

The fact that both were drastic acts — relative to their own contexts, and obviously greatly varying in nature and magnitude — because of the conviction that there were no other options is a stark warning. But what can you expect when even the most empowered, privileged women in the country have to accept sexist assault as part of their lot?

Meanwhile, the minister of state for foreign affairs Hina Rabbani Khar has had to face vile, demeaning comments on her appearance since being appointed to Shehbaz Sharif’s cabinet; Aurangzeb had to put up with sexist slurs while on pilgrimage. These women are praised by their supporters for the grace with which they confront the constant abuse. But this praise also implies that powerful women must be resigned to the sexist backlash they provoke.

Sexism was especially normalised during Imran Khan’s tenure, particularly due to his persistent public claims that women provoke sexual violence with their refusal to veil. Indeed, gender is another battlefield for Pakistan’s populist politics, with the PTI’s misogynistic stance frequently pitted against women’s rights defenders. But the blame does not lie with youthias alone; Khan’s detractors have also indulged in sexist stereotypes of conniving, manipulative women when criticising Bushra Bibi.

Endemic sexism has real-world consequences: Pakistan last year ranked 153rd out of 156 countries on the World Economic Forum’s gender gap report, which considers female political empowerment, economic participation, educational attainment and health. Here’s the catch: waving the gender flag only invites more sexism. It’s therefore time to reframe gender challenges as a product of structural issues such as social inequality, resource scarcity and degrading democratic systems. It’s time for a change, and there’s more at stake than visas to Turkey.

The writer is a political and integrity risk analyst.

Twitter: @humayusuf

Published in Dawn, May 2nd, 2022