A Country For Women
Ours is a country built by men, built for men, corrupted by men and destroyed by men.
Sometimes I wish, along with the partitioning of the country, maybe they could have partitioned the men off too. Pakistani men, to be specific. Obviously, to keep a community going, as Genghis Khan-esque as it would sound; procreation is a way to go. Hey, but what if we didn’t have to do that? What if women could live long, away from the miseries that Desi men inflict upon them, and live to their absolute potential?
What if women formed communes all over the country, foraged and grew their own food, had access to decent healthcare, could walk out in the streets without the fear of getting raped or killed and did not have to succumb to any societal construct, unless out of their own desire to do so?
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wonder, what a utopian Pakistan would look like for women.
Would it have a tandoor-wali, instead of a tandoor walla; who would chat to you about your day, look into your eyes while handing you the change and no one would attempt to grope at you or stare you down in any way?
Would it have rolling fields and women picking berries, laughing and smiling on their way back home, with no fear of anyone attempting to kidnap them, attack them or rape them?
Obviously, in this utopia, we’re also pushing away the idea of Capitalism, since it was created by men in the first place — to commodify people and satiate their appetite for more. This version of Pakistan would instead, have top-notch educational institutes, medical schools, research centres and environmental organizations — available to everyone. Regardless of religion, race, ethnicity and sexual orientation. Open to all, closed to none.
I imagine we’d have sporting events where women could sit and watch; without having to worry about their faces being circulated, and objectified by rabid men on the Internet. We’d have dhabas for women; where one could come after a long day of work; just to sit with their girls and sip on some chai and perhaps have a drag. No one to comment on their clothing, no one to scan their bodies with piercing eyes and no one to shame them for being in a space that normally caters to men in this world.
Women could wear whatever they want, in utopian Pakistan. Bra-strap peeking out from under the shirt? No problem! It was intended to be that way! No need to wear a chador while stepping out to get some groceries. Just a pair of flip-flops, pyjamas and a t-shirt would do! Just imagine — women linking arms and strolling around the streets of Karachi in sundresses! crop tops! jeans!
No one to rape them, and then blame it upon their choice of fabric for covering their bodies. The length or the lack thereof — absolutely no one.
Up in the North, women would partake in holistic, eco-friendly tourism. Art residencies, writing retreats, volunteer drives and berry picking. The Buddhist stupas in Swat, which are at the risk of being destroyed by the Taliban as of now; would be protected in utopian Pakistan; placed under the care of curators and local experts — away from the men with explosive tendencies.
With no patriarchy around to enforce certain social constructs, women will take up on leadership roles in utopian Pakistan, unheard of in the current one. No exploitative jirgas which will ban women from visiting parks or other such public spaces, restricting them only to the four walls of their homes. Community halls will be established to listen to their problems and come to solutions based on logic and rhetoric — not the general consensus.
I’m not touching up on the issue of marriage and children here, because very similar to the Amazons of Greek mythology — utopian Pakistan will be something of the sort. No men, no patriarchy, no capitalism and no societal expectations. Just women living life on their own terms.
Utopian Pakistan might sound like the most bare-minimum things happening on a daily, and yet it is all too true. Current Pakistan fails to provide for its women, and the government and institutions have failed us time and again — which is why more and more of my sisters are leaving the country one by one.
It pains them (us) to talk of a home, that will always be the mouth of a shark for them (Home — Warsan Shire). The shark, being patriarchy, has caused all our structures to rot from the inside out.
One can only imagine, that if a peeking bra-strap were to trigger an entire nation and set off discourse after discourse; then is that nation, that country, truly a place for us?
