#auratmarch

International women's day ❌ International working women's day ✅

The advent of the neo-liberal economy gradually replaced the International Working Women’s Day with the International Women’s Day. IWWD was the result of a long anti-capitalist struggle for social, political and economic freedom from discrimination against working women on the basis of gender.

The removal of the word “working” is a worldwide attempt to vilify the significance of this struggle. Today we take a stand against it and wish you all a Happy International Working Women’s Day.

Let us destroy the patriarchy and the capitalist society and become cognizant about and participate in this great struggle.

"If wealth was the inevitable result of hard work and enterprise,then every woman in Africa would be a millionaire" - George monbiot

Long live struggling women.

#IWWD2023

Come, let’s walk together, in my shoes, for an uncomfortable moment. The heels are high and the standards are low. Don’t worry about all those eyes on you, that just comes with the territory. Keep your eyes down, eye contact can be mistaken for interest, oh and be sure to ignore them when they whistle. Keep that chadar around you when you’re walking on the road, they think you’re an uncovered lollipop, waiting to be sullied. Ah yes, how could I forget the honks, yes indeed the men they will slow their cars and their motorcycles down to shout a leer at you, intimidate you, punish you for encroaching their space. It is their right, they have explained multiple times that because they are men and we are Muslims, they are entitled to us. Don’t worry, they have assured me many many times that Islam has given us rights and so we must not fret. If we are unsafe on the roads, or at work, or in schools, or even at home, we must remind ourselves that Islam has already given us rights therefore if we raise alarm and ask for safety we might be threatening the religion. No you mustn’t do that. 

Now if you look there, on the roads, those women with placards? Yes those very harlots. You mustn’t be like them. You see they are the ones men do not like. They think that just because they are alive, we must treat them as people. Silly women, complaining about their bodies and having to heat food. No, you’re a good girl, you must take your brother’s side, you must stay pious and untouched. Your husband will appreciate it. Yes you must make sure your husband is happy, cook what he likes, keep the house clean, make sure your body is always available for him. What’s that? You aren’t in the mood? Well too bad, you married him so why are you denying him his rights? Oh he slapped you? What did you do to provoke him? Did you argue? Did you irritate him? Men are rational and women are emotional so it must have been an emotional mistake you made that made him hit you. It’s all very rational. Chalo koi nai, it was a mistake na. Bas forgive him and move on. Have a kid. Having his children will give you a higher position in his family. He will respect you more. But you must make sure you have a son. Women who give birth to girls are replaceable. Make sure he doesn’t get another wife. 

Oh you went to Med school? Must have been so you could marry well. Men like doctor wives. But don’t think about working after marriage. Only harlots work after marriage. Oh you worked hard for your degree? That’s your fault. Shouldn’t have gone to Med school na, you took the spot that a deserving man could’ve taken, Dont you know, Pakistan has a doctor shortage? All these women becoming doctors only to quit medicine. This is why they should’ve kept the quota, 15% women. Haan of course girls score more than boys, what else do they have going on? The boys, they have to go out, roam the streets, harass the whores who dare to leave their houses after sundown, of course boys don’t have time to study so don’t score as well. This is the problem okay? The Med schools are 80% women but none of them will work. Women are so selfish. 

You look worried? Don’t worry, I know it’s difficult being a woman in our society but the men will protect you. All you have to do is stop pretending you’re a person. Go marry who they want, love is not allowed, don’t you dare bring dishonour to the family. Go marry that nice mediocre boy, give him sons, and then watch as those sons turn around and fortify your prison.. oh I meant home. Good girls get to go to heaven and keep their husbands. Good boys get to go to heaven and keep 72 virgins. Like I said, we already have all the rights na, why step outside the house? 

Anger

You know how the power puff girls were made of sugar, spice and everything nice? I feel like I’m made of anger, hurt and disappointment. I am so capable of being happy even when I’m burning with rage, of laughing even when I’m being torn up inside by resentment, of working even when all I want to do is rail against the people who refuse to accept that I have a right to exist. And here’s the kicker, I seek out my anger, I consume media that makes me livid, I go looking for proof that the country I come from is as vile as I think it is. Sometimes I think I do it because I cannot believe that the people who raised me, who made me who I am, could actually be as evil as I remember them. Sometimes I do it because I’m a sadist and I want to feel the pain and hurt one feels when you know someone will hurt you but you keep going back. What a cliche, I bleed so I can feel alive, what am I? A thirteen year old girl just now discovering emotions? Maybe. 

I’ve been a vocal feminist for a few years now, before this I was a closeted one, and before that I was an ignorant one. I’ve had arguments with everyone in my life over my right to choose what I wish to do with my body. I’m not too close with too many people in my family but my Khala was always someone that I loved. Before my engagement I was at her house and we were talking about my upcoming marriage and she told me I should have a kid within a year- make the relationship solid, make sure he can’t leave. It made me furious. First of all why should anyone tell me when I should have a child, but more importantly why should I worry about forcing him to stay? So I told her I was not going to have kids for several year or maybe ever, and if he wants to leave he is welcome to it. I am not financially dependant on him, I do not intend to live in a country where being unmarried is considered the most heinous of all crimes. She got so angry with me and then told my mother that I was an ungrateful brat and ultimately did not attend my engagement or most of my wedding. We have not spoken since that day. This is how angry people get when you challenge the status quo. This woman who has loved me since I was born was willing to never speak to me again because I, a woman, said I do not need a man. 

When I saw that clip with Khalil ur Rahman my first thought was wow this feels so familiar. Over the years I’ve learnt to lower my voice and to leave arguments long before the protectors of the patriarchy get fully riled up. Say your bit, make it stick and then change the topic. It’s a technique I use every time I speak about topics concerning women rights. Always change the topic early, always say your bit but say it with an even tone, always acknowledge that you could be wrong. It’s something I learnt from a lifetime of my arguments being declared invalid because I was angry, because I was emotional. A lifetime of being labelled ‘babyish’ and ‘unaware of ground realities’. I am now a 27 year old married woman who is also a doctor at the end of her residency. How much more grown up do I need to be to have my arguments heard? What they meant was you’re too much of a woman, be a man and your voice will carry weight. 

If I were in Lahore today and this clip were circulating I know exactly how it would’ve unfolded. My brother would’ve made a joke about it, his friends would’ve said that Marvi deserved it. I would’ve gotten angry and said that women’s rights are not a joke. My mother would’ve stepped in and said ‘don’t take everything so seriously, they’re only playing devil’s advocate’ my brother would’ve pinched my cheeks lovingly or hugged me or kissed my head and said ‘my rugby always takes things so personally, it’s just a joke’ or the evergreen ‘why do you care? It’s not like she pays your bills’ and I know he would genuinely believe it was all a joke but at this point I would’ve had tears in my eyes which I would never have let out and I would have laughed and said okay topic change. I know so well that if this argument were at my Khala’s house she would’ve also added a line about how women were meant to be married young, and my mother would’ve lovingly added that my feminism was nice for university but didn’t make sense in the real world and everyone would’ve made me feel like an angry ogre who can’t take a joke and the man on tv who was railing against womankind would’ve been made out to be someone having an appropriate reaction to being irritated. In all of this I know I would’ve looked at my father and he would’ve squeezed my fingers nodded and then changed the topic so I do not have to hurt more. Because we both would’ve known what everyone who stands for women rights knows, that the other party is louder and has far more support than us. 

My entire life at home, and mind you it wasn’t very long because I spent a majority of my life in boarding school and hostel, was like this. My father and I quietly exchanging glances and support but never disrupting the status quo. Isn’t it ironic that my mother was the one maintaining the status quo? The one to tell me that I must never ever ever disobey my brother because older brothers have a right to dictate your lives. The one to teach me that you never bow in front of anyone except God and your husband. I was trained to be subservient to a man neither one of us had ever met. And I in turn had spent my entire life planning an escape. I studied even when I didn’t want to, started working towards a resume when I was 9, learn French, universities love when you are multilingual, play sports, universities love well rounded people, write plays, do social work, volunteer, read, get straight A’s. If someone said something would help my chances of getting into a good university, I did it. I had one aim and one aim only, to never need a man. To be able to walk away if I was feeling unheard and unhappy. I come from privilege, and that is the only reason this was a realistic possibility for me. And now I have, and every day I say thank you to my younger self. I can be angry and hurt and livid and pained and disappointed at these news clippings but I never have to talk to a man like that if I don’t want to. And for that I can never thank my self enough. Thank you for making a plan, thank you for sticking to it, thank you for this freedom, thank you, thank you, thank you.