OP-ED: THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM – Part Two

Picture this: a young woman of 24 gathers the supreme courage to flee her abuser – her husband. Her father then cajoles her to return because his honour as a man is dependent on this young woman going right back to her abuser. She complies because social norms still far out-weigh the personal wellbeing of a woman. She returns to what she almost certainly knows is the end of a brutal road for her.
And sure enough, she is murdered.

The men put their blood-stained turbans back on their criminal heads, while #GullaanBharo is interred into the blessed earth. For the sane amongst us, Gullaan Bharo’s courage and grace is exponentially greater than the fickle honour that is carried around like a lodestone by all the men combined of her family.

So there she continues to sit, the Elephant in the room. Prominent and present even as she shrinks into herself; even as everyone looks right through her. Why? Because it has become normalized to not acknowledge the appalling state that is the state of the average Pakistani woman. She is beaten/ flayed/ deprived and caged into submission. Even as we approach the middle of the 21st century and men send rockets to Mars, there are other men that continue to create entire realms of abuse within the 4 walls of their caveman fortresses on our very earth.

Every other day, we hear of unspeakable criminal abuse against a daughter, a sister, a wife and a mother. And now, even the transitory burst of outrage has disappeared as this bullying of one gender by the other has become normalized. Here are some statistics from Pakistan that we as the educated/ empowered/ aware demographic that waxes thick on social media should at the very least, mull over.

  • 40% of married women have experienced spousal physical, sexual, or emotional violence. Some reports suggest 70% to 90% of married women in specific regions (e.g., Punjab) have experienced abuse from their spouses.
  • 86% of women reported at least one traumatic event.
  • HONOUR KILLINGS: Thirteen women are reported murdered daily in the name of honour. It is important to note that almost 90% of cases do not get reported at all. So this statistic is exponentially higher.
  • SEXUAL VIOLENCE: At least 11 rape cases are reported daily, with over 22,000 cases reported over six years. Again, this statistic is only the tip of the iceberg.
  • CHILDHOOD TRAUMA: A study on rural mothers found that 58% experienced at least one Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE), commonly home violence (38%) or neglect (20%).
  • CHILDBIRTH TRAUMA: A study in Sindh found that 97% of women reported at least one form of disrespectful or abusive behaviour during childbirth. 
  • ECONOMIC INEQUALITY: Pakistan is ranked among the worst countries for women regarding economic participation and opportunity, which limits women’s autonomy and increases dependence on abusers.

Other interesting global statistics:

  • There is a 21% rate of abandonment if the wife falls terminally or seriously ill, compared to only 3% when the husband is the patient.
  • 90% of single parents are women.
  • 80% of organ donors are women. 80% of organ receivers are men.
  • Rape Incidence: About 1 in 4 women (approx. 25%) has experienced rape or attempted rape in their lifetime.

I look at these indices and I feel numb – a self preservation tactic in a world that has become dismally imbalanced. We are floating so low at the bottom of the barrel that expecting any reforms in the manner of decisive legislation aimed at the wellbeing of women seems like a pipe dream. But speak we must, despite our anesthetic bubbles of privilege and security, hoping that somewhere, at some perfect inflection point, things will begin to change.

(I wrote the first part of this op-ed in September of 2020. You can read it here: https://theroamingdesi.org/2020/09/15/opinionthe-elephant-in-the-room/ )

Featured

VERSE | UP ⏫ ROOTED

This is for all the girls and the women who are struggling to fit into the expectations, definitions and labels that have been created for them. Keep speaking, keep striving, keep moving until you are free.

They told me that I should slow down
To put my roots into my soil
But when I did
When I trusted the hands that would
Nurture those tendrils, tender fragile
They instead beat them down
Crushed and strangled them in the ground
Burnt their life seeking ends
And everytime that they grew
When they reached for something new
They cut them down
Again and again they continued
All my tomorrows were carved out to be
Bleak as the ashen soil that held
My soles, my skin, my soul, my sins
Fusing them for the world and me
They were one, coalesced
That none could sunder
Save the keepers of the roots
And God himself
Resurrected in their image to suit
Him and him and Him and them
In a conspiracy of guilt and hell

So I uprooted myself
And I found someplace else

I slowed down and felt the ground
The soil was light, loamy brown
I sat down, took off my shoes
I dug in my soles, my soul, my whole
And that is when I found my roots.
Image: MidJourney

VERSE | HIDDEN AWAY

The rain is falling in sheets upon sheets 
Jumping into puddles, skipping over feet
Performing a symphony as it flows
Reaching a crescendo down the street
Where whirlwind eddies and the sidewalk meet

The koi in the pond in the building know
Something is up, they flicker and jump
Out of the water again and again
But the ripples on the surface aren’t enough
To join in the play of the skies above

They don’t feel the glorious downpour
Charge into their silent world thrumming
They swim up and down around and around
Waiting, waiting expecting something
The sensory pleasure of nature dancing

But the koi will float in agitated oblivion
To the playful frolic of the monsoon sky
As it cavorts with all of earth’s creatures
But not with the pond and not with the koi
Our faithful tributes to a world gone awry.
Featured

VERSE | LET ME BE ME

For all the girls, and the women young and old, who are made to feel less, inferior or impaired because they have dreams that are different to the ones dreamt up for them by others. May you find the strength and the passion to be you.

Why must I be what I don’t want to be?
Why must I change the state of my dreams?
Why must I cower in fear of my world?
Why must the story of my life stay untold?

Why must I hide myself away?
Why must I look behind me always?
Why must there always be danger to me?
To my spirit, my soul, my mind, my body?

Why can I not laugh out loud when I want?
Why must I hide all my joy in my heart?
Why can’t I turn my face to the sun?
Why must I hide in the shadows you’ve spun?

Why must I bear the ball and chain of these roots?
Why must I remain invisible and mute?
Why was I born if not to revel
In life’s ever cresting and falling swell?

I’m a child of this world, let me roam free
Let me think, let me speak, let me be me
I’m a creature of this earth, I belong everywhere
Let me spread my wings, let me lay my heart bare

Let me be, let me be, just what I want to be
Let me dream, let me dream, what I want to dream
Let me walk in this world unafraid and kind
Let my life tell the story of my heart and my mind.

VERSE| I AM THE MAN

This is for Noor, Qurat-ul-Ain, Saima and the countless nameless others that we never get to hear of, that have lost their lives to the shameless, lawless brutality of the men in their lives.

I am a man
I was born the only son of the family
I was born in the arms of plenty even when scarcity surrounded me
I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth even while my sisters shared the dregs of their copper bowls
I was born with the mantle of privilege and opportunity cloaking my lusty body.

I am a man
I grew up learning that I was better than my sisters.
I grew up knowing I was special.
I grew up expecting the world to be my oyster.
I grew up demanding that every whim and every fancy be fulfilled as naturally as I breathed.

I am a man
I know I am one of the special Male Fraternity
I know I have a world of unique advantages in my patriarchal homeland
I know that I can let my unbridled desires carry me on strong, brawny wings
I know that I can have anything I want.

I am a man
I take what I want every time I want it
I seize what my heart desires whenever it feels thus inclined
I possess by true means or false, whatever I covet
I destroy by any means I can that which I cannot have.

I am the man
I am the man who wanted a woman who did not want me
I am the man who was insulted, offended, livid at this dismissal of my desires
I am the man who then ignited the flame of his honour and masculinity
I am the man who avenged the unrequited heat of his loins

I am the man
I was born with the mantle of privilege and opportunity cloaking my lusty body.
I grew up knowing I was special.
I knew that I could have anything I wanted.
I destroyed by any means that which I could not have.
I am the man who ended her.