WOMEN have an uphill battle because of their gender. In patriarchies such as ours, just staying alive can be a struggle. The attitude towards women was best reflected in the remarks of an honourable member of the Federal Constitutional Court.
The honourable justice, inter alia, appeared to blame ‘live-in relationships’ among the ‘elite’ for the evil and depraved murder of a young woman who was forcibly detained against her will by a male friend, murdered and beheaded by him in a fit of rage because he could not exercise control over her.
The judgement was penned when His Lordship was still a member of the Supreme Court of Pakistan where the murderer’s appeal against his death sentence by a lower court was heard. To the public’s relief, the sentence was upheld, despite the remarks in the written verdict that may have been wholly out of place and unnecessary.
We have had many a legislation — from tweaks to constitutional amendments — mainly to benefit the very few who occupy the highest point of the power pyramid.
For women in this country, the challenges are that much harder and life that much coarser.
But what about the awam, the people, millions of whom live below the poverty line? They work hard, harder than you or I could imagine, and yet face the heartbreak everyday at not being able to put enough food on the table for their families.
If you happen to be a woman, your challenges are that much harder, life that much coarser. Normally, I don’t include emails that Dawn readers send me but today I felt compelled to for two reasons. The first is to remind the practitioners and advocates of our patriarchy to pause and yet again see how intellectually astute our young women are and, second, of course, in the hope that these thoughts are heard, to have an impact. (I have altered some of the content to ensure that the identity of the writers is protected).
Here is the first: “I don’t quite know why I find myself writing to you; it’s something I have never felt compelled to do with any other writer. Perhaps it’s because I believe you would understand the emotions I’m trying to express but cannot fully capture in words.
“I was reading your Dawn piece on the 27th Amendment, and it left me feeling deeply sad. Though, to be honest, that feeling has been building for days. As a girl from an orthodox Baloch family, I have had to fight against and break so many toxic generational cycles. I used to believe that education would give me wings and open up a life I had always dreamed of. But witnessing the state of affairs in this country, my hope is beginning to fade. There are days when I want to leave the country, but I know escape isn’t the answer. I have known that since childhood.
“Every day when I pick up the newspaper, my heart sinks. Where have we come to as human beings? Everything feels bleak and heavy. From Gaza to Sudan, and then the heartbreak unfolding closer to home in Balochistan, I feel as though humanity has been abandoned. I keep wondering why and when mankind fell from grace into such cruelty and darkness.
“I’m sorry for the unsolicited rant, I just feel very lost right now, and don’t quite know whom to share these thoughts with. From what I have sensed through your writings, you seem to be someone with humanity … And for people like me, who’re clinging to even a speck of compassion in these dark times, it means more than you may realise. Kindness and respect have become hard to find lately.
“So, thank you for sharing your compassion and wisdom with people like me who’re struggling to find their way.”
This young woman, without argument, writes better than I’d ever hope to and has intellectual nous and wisdom that should place her among the intellectual elite of our blighted country. Despite her despondency, she remains resolute to continue the fight. She also has the humour to insinuate I have wisdom.
The second letter is equally worthy of consideration but here, understandably, hopelessness is dictating a different path.
“I am writing to express my deep concern and confusion after reading your recent article regarding The Jailed Leader [sic]. It left me reflecting on my own experience during the protest on that cold day, when innocent people in our community were brutally killed at their workplaces. Instead of receiving support and empathy, we were called blackmailers and our genuine fears and needs were dismissed. [The reference here is to the Hazara murders in January 2021].
“This raises a painful question for me: isa leader truly worthy of leadership if he can sacrifice minorities for political convenience? Are we, as minorities, not considered human enough to deserve safety, dignity, and a peaceful life?
“As someone belonging to the Hazara community of Balochistan, these experiences are not new. Despite being born and raised in this country, despite studying at one of our country’s top educational institutions and contributing to society, I constantly feel alienated. Even basic legal documentation such as CNICs and passports becomes an unnecessary struggle. While other provinces receive adequate facilities and support, our region continues to lag behind in even the most fundamental necessities.
“It pains me to say this, but I am reaching a point where I no longer see a future for myself in this country. The nation I call home has repeatedly failed to protect us or acknowledge our suffering. Therefore, I am seriously considering leaving next year in search of a place where minorities are accepted, valued, and protected.
“I hope my words are taken as a sincere plea for reflection, not hostility. I still believe that a nation is strengthened when all its people are treated with dignity — especially, its most vulnerable.”
To these words steeped in anguish and wisdom, I can add nothing except to say let women run our country if there is to be any hope.
The writer is a former editor of Dawn.
Published in Dawn, November 30th, 2025
Dawn – Home
none@none.com (Abbas Nasir)
Read More
