“The Licit made Forbidden” by Alina Saghir
As it strikes 8 on my watch and the darkness further engulfs the silent corners of the alley; I rush towards the congested market as horrifying tales of the unsafe silence of the alley begin to bellow in my ears. Upon entrance however relief does not wash over my heart, waves of fear ebb through my body because it is no longer the vile evil lurking in shadows rather men bathing in the golden light, whose lecherous gaze and smirks make me squirm. I begin to walk faster as I pull my t-shirt further down and tighten my scarf around my neck. Tightened such, that it strangles me. I start to run. My heart rhythmically pounds to the sound of thudding footsteps behind me. My heart races and so do I as we run away from the heinous intentions and catcalls that follow me. I struggle to breathe as societal norms and the fear of reputation force me to stifle my terrified screams while the urge to confront gnaws at my throat.
I reach home plastering a smile, it is only once I’m inside my walled room that I throw off my scarf and let out a few muffled sobs, quickly quietened by the thought of being overheard. Despite this, I can’t breathe and it is that moment when tragic realization befalls me; it was never the scarf that strangled me. It was the daunting terror in my mother’s eyes before she let me go, the worry concealed within my father’s prayers that he blessed me with, it was the suppression and the tyrannous reign of the patriarchy that choked my dreams of freedom and the smallest of joys. I couldn’t breathe because it was not my choice to, as a woman I had never been given that freedom.
The lack of freedom for women and gender based subjugation is the biggest challenge from which a series of other hindrances stem. It is the deeply entrenched roots of patriarchy that foster suffocating plantation of male dominant ideology on which hang the bitter fruits of female oppression and inequality. However, the tempting forbidden fruit of freedom for women hangs on the boughs this time weighed down by God’s allowance but yanked away by society that has made the licit “forbidden”.
Even fundamental rights are allotted by the male segment of the society and women’s right to oppose is taken away. The fact that I had not been buried as a child despite being a girl is used as an example to certify my “privilege”, access to education is a luxury, failure to meet the standards of academic excellence set by family and society result in threats of being married off early and being forced to live a secluded and dependent life. The Pakistani constitution does grant women fundamental rights but other than the several disputed laws, their right to legal discourse, its accessibility and availability remain questionable as “honor” and “family name” are used to control their approach towards justice. Emotional pleas and the male head of the family’s decision forces women to remain quiet in the face of barbaric domestic violence, terrifying acid attacks, assault, rape and all that is hushed by both perpetrators and protectors.
Even though numerous women step out every day to earn a living, the idea of “Independent woman” continues to be nursed by extremes of either being tabooed by the society or being glorified by the media, it is yet to be fully integrated into the Pakistani culture. Their freedom is still contentious as they suffer at the hands of male bias which makes
finding employment harder. Secondly workplace harassment and assault, which they cannot take a stand against due to the lack of legal options and regulatory bodies. Furthermore, it is women only; whose femininity, attire and behavior is deemed responsible for the atrocious male advances. Their financial independence is marred by the trepidation associated with workplace environment and interactions. And these hardships are paid for, by the wage gap which is another disappointing example of male dominance.
A woman to the Sufis and the Saints is a ray of God and to men a mere commodity. But truly she is an undiscovered jewel that doesn’t need a King’s crown to be betrothed to, rather her own throne where she rules independently, wearing not lush robes or the forced “purdah” but bathes in the glow of her own form of beauty, dons her idea of dignity, that too freely.