I WAS told that public spaces — parks, streets and even roadside kiosks — are ‘owned’ by men and that every other physical space imaginable is a male domain.

But as I grew older, I started realising that private spaces, too, have started shrinking in literal, metaphorical and every other sense for the country’s women.

I always thought that the grisly incidents that I see or read in print, social and electronic media nearly every single day wherein men oppress women in every sphere of life demonstrate the dearth of education, particularly among men. However, I grasped the stark yet grotesque reality that even education cannot root out the inherent gender bias in our societal patterns.

Lest I be mistaken as a radical feminist, I would hasten to add that this reality was revealed to me a year ago when I was a graduate student at the Government College University in Lahore, and used to visit Punjab Public Library to prepare for competitive examinations.

One day, while having some tea in a small orchard outside the library hall, men one after another, who appeared to be university graduates, unnecessarily approached me, rather invaded my personal space and attempted to talk to me for no obvious reason.

My intrusive thoughts were attacked as it was my ‘me time’ to reflect upon my life and whichever emotional stage I was experiencing after graduation, but they kept on encroaching the progressive drive of my thoughts. But what shook me to the core was the impulsive revelation that those ‘well-educated’ men, probably preparing for government jobs, took my sitting alone as an explicit invitation to them that I wanted to be approached by them since a woman cannot heave a sigh of relief sitting ‘alone’.

To add to the irony, I remained mired in the confusion that it was my fault being a woman to sit alone that was exciting the men out there. I decided not to sit outside the next day. However, after giving the matter a second thought, holding a Kishwar Naheed book in my hands, I resisted the urge and continued my ‘me time’ experience in the small garden outside the library hall. After hours of rigorous study, it was my way of making myself realise that I cannot and should not allow any random man or some toxic stereotype to influence my personal choices and preferences.

Coming to the gist of sharing this story after a year is that I still wonder if having educational degrees from reputable universities cannot make men realise this very simple fact that women are entitled to claim a share of their part in public spaces, I do not know what will.

I forgot that we live in a gendered world where everything from study places to workplaces endorse gender bias that rears its ugly head in the customary family structures that have specified certain roles for men and women and transcending those limitations would mean to go against the stream of nature. Public spaces are owned by men, and women cannot hang around.

This is for all men out there in society: whenever you see a woman sitting alone, it altogether means that she wants to sit all alone, I repeat ‘all alone’. It is needless to emphasise that all men out there ought to respect the boundaries of women, considering them as worthy as they assume themselves to be, and view their privacy as equally valuable as their own.

Apart from gender discrimination that is inherent in our society, it also reflects the moral degeneration of society as a whole where some men under the garb of human skin commit gruesome acts against the opposite gender, assuming her ‘weak’, and this vicious cycle of violence will one day eat away the vestiges of humanity in its entirety.

Will it always be an elusive dream for Pakistani women to own public spaces as an entitlement rather than as a ‘courtesy’. I wonder when, if at all, will men learn to respect women’s boundaries?

Name withheld on request
Gilgit

Published in Dawn, May 10th, 2023