Part II

In the light of what has been discussed after I posted my open letter to Maya Khan which was later on published on Express Tribune’s blog, I’ve decided to clear several things out for the first and last time before someone misunderstands me for supporting sex trafficking and prostitution in family parks.

I don’t.

I don’t support occupying family spots for these acts. I don’t encourage anyone to strip naked on a wooden bench while kids play on the seesaw. I really don’t endorse the idea of soliciting people for paid sex in such vicinities. I’m not here, as several argued, to incinerate the very fabric of ‘Islamic’ social and moral conduct. Some people accused me of being in favor of letting young males and females engage in “questionable” acts due to which they get hurt sexually, physically and emotionally. One even told me to “leave the country” and “go back to USA” where “this shit happens on a daily basis.”  Implying that this “shit” is perfectly contained and controlled in the land of pure Pakistani perfection. Delusional people are most entertaining.

Some people also alleged that I am trying to be “hip” and “in” by conforming to the modern idea of PDA, socializing and modern relationships. They tell me that I am oblivious of what happens to young people when they are not told to avoid sneaking out, lying to guardians or parents, etc. They inform me that what Maya Khan and her kind did, was simply “interview” young couples in parks. Conflating “interviewing” with “harassing” is a dangerous misunderstanding. I could “interview” you too. It won’t be pleasant.

So here’s what I’ve proposed to all those who misconstrue me needlessly on two major fronts among others:

• Concerned about indecency in public places? Use the right medium to educate

  Closet Maya Khans sit comfortably in their privilege as they preach those under them. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Her act was not just a moral policing one, but also a classist lashing against those with less a chance to meet in the places she goes to. We all know what happens in opulent, endowed settings. There is no difference between the “illegal” act happening in a poor man’s household and that taking place in a rich man’s mansion. It is very easy to attack and admonish the weaker party. You can use religion, morality or simple concern as an excuse. I don’t deny the reality that unsettling things do occur in parks and the idea to address those happenings is valid. But there are ways to go about these problems. Creating social and religious stigma around them is the least preferable thing to do. Someone with a little decent knowledge of ethics – media and otherwise – would know. Stigmatizing public places not only deviates the majority from the real issue but also limits accessibility to them. You are not helping by locking the venue up.

• “Girls get hurt when they don’t tell their parents about their lives!” 

  They actually do, you’re right. However please help me wrap my head around the approach consisting of publicly naming and shaming a young person in order to make them aware of their actions. How does shoving a camera into a young girl’s face rectify her dishonesty? If we all are so worried about our young women, why hasn’t any one of us ever considered talking to them in their classrooms, in their school halls, in their colleges? Why hasn’t anyone of us bothered writing about it? Some of you seem so horrified behind your screens about the looming danger waiting to claw at our girls yet you offer no pragmatic solution to solve this problem. If Maya Khan and her troupe wanted to help girls from getting harmed, why didn’t she turn the camera off, implored the girl to listen and offered her well-intended advice in privacy? A group of panting men and women holding cameras after a young couple doesn’t change anything. You were not assigned by the government, constitution or God to ram “naseehat” down someone’s throat. Worried about young girls’ safety? Guide them without shaming them. Disgusted by indecency tainting the family park? Report to authorities firmly and promptly. Public vigilantism is not the right way to go about it.

It may sound tangential but many of you want to help women from getting hurt. That’s wonderful. I realize that many of our parents and well wishers do not have access to internet or open media sources to learn more in terms of going about discussing sexual safety, rights, etc. This is where you become useful and spread the word without becoming a moral preacher like the woman aforementioned. Tell young women how to fight against sexual harassment, educate young girls about sex because it is one of their primary rights, empower them through education, conduct classes, seminars and conferences open for everyone and talk about it in Urdu, Punjabi, Pashto, English, whatever.

Get to it or

An Open Letter to Maya Khan

It started with this video.

Dear Maya Khan,

My name is Mehreen. I like browsing through morning talk shows when I’m waiting for breakfast made by my mom who, like your colleague said in a particular clip, is like my friend and I confide in her often. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I do. She’s never demanded an oath of eternal confidence in her. We’re humans, and we love our private space. You might be thinking, “Why is she telling me this?” I thought I should let you know about the knitty gritty of my personal life since you do enjoy delving into deeper details. Wise people always do.

Maya? I love parks. Parks are amazing. Did you know that top ten parks in the world are located in London, Vancouver, San Francisco, Tokyo, Lisbon (don’t worry – not ‘lesbian’), Chicago and Bangkok? If you show up in Lahore in the same park that I go to, it might become the most famous park in the whole world for what happens right after we encounter each other. Parks have lots of nice, lush grass and benches. I love benches. Parks also have trees and swings and sidewalks for people to walk on, and sometimes chase people after. Parks are amazing. My dad used to take me to my favorite park when I was little, you know? Sometimes couples passed by us and my dad would bring his Sony high definition video camera out and run after them, inquiring of their marital or non-marital status based on his idea of morality. Kidding. My dad just yawned and pushed the swing higher for me.

Hey, Maya? Sorry, I know I’m rambling. Just bear with me. Come on, we’re girls, we should confide in each other. I really like someone. Most young people do. It’s natural, don’t worry. Nothing extraordinary, absurd or heinous about it. We hang out often. Since we’re on a nice, equal wavelength, we enjoy spending time in places that are simple, easy to go (unless someone decides to chase us with a cell phone camera to document our stray presence) and open-spaced because I love sitting in the sun on a winter afternoon. Do you know where we go? A local park. That’s right.

Young people fall in love all the time. Sometimes they don’t – it’s just infatuation. Sometimes they do and they’re confused as hell and they still go out to understand the significance of the other. In the process, they pick a location like normal people do where they can sit down and spend time together. I’m sure you liked someone when you were in college. No big deal. See, girls fall in love pretty much every single day of the week and so do boys. Sometimes they make the right decision, sometimes they make mistakes. It’s called being human. But trust me, they don’t need a team of middle aged women hounding them down public places to enlighten them about their decisions. And trust me, their mothers will handle whatever happens. No one asked you or anyone else to take the responsibility of scrutinizing them. See, what worries me a lot is when public figures like you with considerable influence on viewers morph into moral police. In a country like Pakistan where public vigilantism has exceeded levels of brutality, the last thing the youth needs is a team of moral watchdogs sniffing around for “impure” behavior.

If indeed your concern is sincere (which I still have qualms with – since the privacy of a person’s choice is most cogent; they’ll ask for help when they ask you) then invest in sex education or how a female can avoid getting hurt in various situations. Better yet, do a segment on respect for privacy. Now that’s a talk show I would make my entire neighborhood subscribe to. I understand that you might be fretting about the welfare of young women in this society. I do too along with thousands of other well-to-do folks. But there’s a difference between you and me: I don’t publicize their actions on a local TV channel, I don’t chastise them for going out on a date and I don’t expect people to slut-shame the girl or the boy into hiding. I let them be unless and until they ask for help or if there is eminent danger.

Hold on. I’m Muslim too. However the ethos of my faith urges that unless I am perfect in my moral conduct, I have no right whatsoever to point my finger at anyone for anything. Whatever is done is left between the individual and their conscience. Hell, no one ever told me to demand for someone’s nikah-nama when they’re sitting together. It doesn’t concern me or you or anyone else. Sometimes I am ashamed to be from the same faith when I see people like you dictating immaculate morality for others. Furthermore I am mortified as a Pakistani when I see wardens of rectitude making dangerous spectacles of common citizens simply to boost hits on their show or to become shining role models for people of equally disappointing, mediocre thinking.

If that young couple gets hurt – which happens inevitably as a result of your irresponsible moral policing – you will be held accountable for reinforcing the sick obsession our society has with prying and needling into privacy. I thought media ethics would’ve taught you and several others the art of Letting People Be. It’s not too hard, really. All you have to do is mind your own business and find other mature, commendable ways of increasing popularity for your show. Say, have you seen that reporter who raided on someone’s residence for possessing alcohol? Don’t you think it would’ve yielded a decent conversation if you, let’s say, entered Cosa Nostra or Espresso or CTC or Cinnabon, where privileged folks like you go to, and accosted an unmarried couple for sitting together in their unmarriedness? Isn’t it pathetically convenient to interrogate a harmless couple in a park? Can someone please explain why haven’t these righteous correspondents ever barged into a conspiring terrorist’s household to expose their plans? Or maybe into a conservative political figure’s cozy room when they call over hookers (I don’t even care about that, honestly) or when they approve of policies that render our lives a lot more miserable than it already is? That takes guts.

You’re smart enough to understand by now that I am legitimately aggravated and so are others. Invasive moral policing is not just hypocritical, it is harmful. A petition against your program has been initiated on Change.org and I’m signing this while making yet another sinful plan of sitting in a park with the guy I like. Is this a one-way ticket to hell and destruction? I’m sure it is. No skin off my nose.

Assuming your action was religiously motivated, I was wondering how you would react if a raging maulvi decided to hound you on his morning talk show for not covering your hair. And assuming your action wasn’t religiously motivated but only carried out as a display of social concern, I wonder how you would feel if someone verbally quartered you for making the decisions you have by telling you, you were foolish and misdirected for doing so.

Now if you don’t mind, I have plans to make. I’m spending unmarried time with the guy I like in a few days. We’re so unmarried, it’s amazing. Sometimes in our high unmarriedfulness, I hold his arm and we walk through the park past closet Maya Khans and Zaid Hamids who genuinely detest us for our open display of joy, comfort and affection. I can’t wait to have you show up and ask us for our nikah document. This is what I’ll give you as proof:

It's legit.

Stay out of my park.

Sincerely Sitting Unmarried On a Bench in a Park With a Guy,
Mehreen

Feminism Ain’t Always Perfect

And I, a feminist, have said this along with many others.

Jessica Yee says it best:

We’re not really equal when we’re STILL supposed to uncritically and obediently cheer when white women are praised for winning “women’s rights,” and to painfully forget the Indigenous women and women of colour who were hurt in that same process. We are not equal when in the name of “feminism”, so-called “women’s only” spaces are created and get to police and regulate who is and isn’t a “woman” based on their interpretation of your body parts and gender presentation, not your own. We are not equal when initiatives to achieve gender equity have reverted yet again to “saving” people and making decisions for them, rather than supporting their right to self-determination, whether it’s engaging in sex work, or wearing a niqab. So when feminism itself has become its own form of oppression, what do we have to say about it? Western notions of polite discourse are not the norm for all of us, and just because we’ve got some new and hot language like “intersectionality” to use in our talk, it doesn’t necessarily make things change in our walk (i.e., actually being anti-racist). And I have to say that these uncomfortable processes have been worth the many paths that brought the different contributors of the book together to tell their sometimes uncomfortable truths — not just about feminism, but about themselves and where they are coming from.

But now I’m going to take a stand and say that I’m constantly questioning what feminism even is, and I’m increasingly disturbed every day by the gate-keeping of who and what gets to decide the answer to that question.

So here’s another truth about me: I’m at a point in my activism where in many spaces I no longer feel comfortable just saying that I’m a feminist, full-stop, without adding a few words before or after. I say I’m a multi-racial Indigenous Two-Spirit feminist. I say I’m a hip-hop feminist, a reproductive justice feminist. Like many people, I feel like I’ve been burned out by the mainstream usage and representation of feminism and I’m not making any apologies for what I call myself, because I’m speaking the English language of the colonizer, and if it takes people a few extra words to give me my right to self-determination of what I want to be called in English, so be it.Being uncomfortable with this truth about feminism helps keep my fire alive to change it, and also helps me to not forget where we’ve really come from and where we’re really going.

(Source)

Like any woman of color, I can’t simply give in to feminism completely. It is a Western ideology that does not mesh well with mine. It has its roots embedded in a history that not only had White men oppressing their own women but their women were equally involved in oppressing my indigenous people – men and women together. I refuse to obediently follow every postulate stated by Western, Eurocentric feminists. Does that make me an incompetent supporter of women’s rights? Does that render me unsuccessful in this march against oppression and malevolent patriarchy? Does that invalidate my opinion on how to bring gender egalitarianism about? Does that make me an adversary in this struggle? Does that make me a bad person? My questioning of agendas and modus operandi should be taken as positive criticism for change.

When a white feminist conducts a conference on gender equality, I want her to introduce me as a Human Being, not an example for her friends and sponsors to examine and exhibit and capitalize on. I want her to ask me what my thoughts are concerning feminism in academia. I want her to understand that there are compartments to my feminist movement; that feminism in my society in the professional realm is far different than feminism in the domestic dimension. I want her to understand that things are not simple. I want her to stop reducing my people to a piece of cloth. I want her to look back and realize that feminists, too, can be very well racist and oppressive. I want her to know that enforcing her idea of success, happiness and liberation on women alienated by her very own culture does not help. I want her to talk to my sisters, cousins, friends, teachers, activists, women from the village, women from the city, women from every corner of my country, my culture, my history before she even thinks of concluding her thoughts on how to define feminism around the world. I want her to open her mind.

I want her to know that the conference she conducted on academic discussions on women’s rights, while poorly-paid migrant workers – my brothers and sisters – are preparing lunch for their lofty thinkers only to get deported the next day, is no good when she can’t acknowledge her own participation in silencing the rights of those around her. I don’t want to be invited to seminars where someone indirectly hints at me wearing my “cultural attire” to show diversity. What am I? A mannequin for the lot?

I want her to know that it is not necessary for anyone to have a post doctoral degree in women’s studies to speak about her own experience and to be regarded by the ones listening and reading. I want her to get rid of her own privilege before she goes on to highlight that of others. I am tired but undefeated of the constant sight of colored students who are expected and sometimes demanded to learn languages, theories, -isms that erase and appropriate but, worse, further colonize their history, heritage, culture and identity.

I want the West to understand that my women and men and I will not adhere to every single idea stated from that corner of the world concerning emancipation and progress. I know the men of my culture have committed extreme acts of brutality against their women but it makes you no good when your ancestry points to lineages and more lineages of colonizers who tortured and enslaved both men and women of my culture.

I am a feminist but consider the ineffectiveness of a title when sub-titles are added for further clarification, explanation and validation. When I speak on public radio or show up on TV, I have to explain my identity: A multi-cultural, anti-racist, Muslim feminist. Sub-titles are created when the primary title fails to encompass other identities, other voices. This is also why I have no issue with women of color creating their own movements like South Asian Women Equality, Womanism, Muslim Gender Equality, Racial and Gender Liberation, so on and so forth.

So stop forcing me to believe you have purged yourself of racism, of cashing in on my experience and history. Stop telling me feminism is “perfect.” Stop telling me you’re here to “help” and “save” me and my sisters. The only person you need to save is yourself before you turn into a subtle instance of yet another colonizer.

Muslim Pick Up Lines With Doodles

Flirting is an art. It is also one way to receive lashings, both of the religious and from-that-beautiful-girl kind. I, your loyal blogger, am back with sincere halal advice for my Muslim readers on how to score a Muslim chick. Non-Muslim friends and followers, please make sure your Muslim friends try this the next time they see that gorgeous chick around the block.

It may work. IT MAY WORK.

SSS: Show Some Swag

Yeah. Show some halal swag. Go up to a Muslim chick and do this. She’ll love you in this world and hereafter.

CHECK OUT MY OUTDATED HIJRI CALENDAR. SO MUCH SWAG.

 AHIH: Assure Her It’s Halal

By marrying her. I don’t know. Just do it.

The Fajr Trick:

It works. It always works.

And they woke up every Fajr happily ever after.

Put a Ring On It:

Marry her already.

GET KINKY:

IT’S GETTING JAHANUMMI IN HERE. TAKE OFF ALL YOUR SINS.

I’ll stop trolling.

Pro-tip: While studying Surah Baqarah in the Quran, I read that the prescribed manner in which a Muslim man should ask for a woman’s hand in marriage is simple. This time I am genuinely not trolling. Do the following and try not leering. It’s not nice or halal.

SCORE.

Allergic to Sexist Pity

When I was growing up, my mother would often hold cosy gatherings with her friends in the city. Sometimes if she found out a new neighbor had arrived in the area, she’d cordially invite them over as well for a cup of tea and some light-hearted chit chat. My sisters and I would play in the hallway while the ladies would discuss weather, Pakistan, recipes and health. During those conversations, I often found one lady or the other asking my mother a question that seemed less inquisitive, more accusing in its spoken nature: “To aap ki betiyaan hi hain, buss? (So you have daughters only?)”

My mother: “Jee. Teen. (Yes. Three.)”

Reply: “Haye, Allah baita de aap ko. Barri himmat hai. (Oh my, may the Lord bless you with a son. I commend your courage.)”

And I’d feel incompetent as though my being a daughter was somehow an insult, maybe some sort of incompetence on part of my parents. I love my mother for her response though: “Nahi, shukriya. Yehi baitiyaan hain, yehi baitay hain. Hum bohut khush hain. (No, thanks. These are our daughters, and our sons. We’re very happy with them.)”

But it didn’t stop. I grew up with classfellows in Pakistan asking me if I had brothers. I would reply in the negative. After which an entire group of students would sympathize with me and offer their brothers to give me “protection, honor and strength.” I never accepted the (pity-filled) offers – sometimes politely, sometimes with downright indignation.

Eventually I learned that due to a set of religiously exploited and malevolent patriarchal reasons, a daughter is viewed as a burden in our society. Bringing them up is not only considered a grueling test but a constant walk upon thin glass every single day of a subcontinental parent’s life. Phrases like “Baiti walay“, “Dheeyan aalay“, “Kaanch jaisi izzat ka khayal” and other highly dramatic terms flood households with daughters. It’s sickening. Everyone knows that, right? Why am I extrapolating the said and done? It’s not redundant; Shaming those who constantly offer unnecessary pity to parents with daughters and siblings with sisters only should be mandatory. Growing up while constantly questioning one’s self worth only because their gender perceived by the society inhibits them from deserving common respect is not only painful but humiliating. Silencing parents from airing their worries and speaking up against violence and discrimination is wrong and inhumane. Parents are often told, “Baitiyaan walon ko awaz neechay aur sar jhuka ke rakhna chahiye (Those with daughters should not raise their voice or head.)” Instilling fear into a family only because the child is female is a practice rampant in this region.

So I decided to do what I do best: Doodle my rage.

I’m illustrating a book some day with this cover for every girl in Pakistan, India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Nepal, Afghanistan, Iran, countries in the Middle East, in North America, South America, Africa, even Antarctica. Here it is:

Depressing illustrations by Ms. Someone Really Sick Of Stupid Questions.

My mother usually had to go through this. She’s a civil lady so her disdain is often channelized into her tea cup. I don’t know how that works but whatever.

Which leads to:

Back in school, ironically enough girls would offer me sympathy for not having a brother. My basic reaction: You’re a girl too. Why let the culture and society control your idea of power and protection, of worth and esteem?

I also placed my (very unreasonable) demands when I was naive.

THE CHILD HATH NO IDEA OF WHAT SHE HATH ASKED FOR.

But my parents handled it ever so gracefully. Their stance: They don’t need sons to feel protected or respected. The biological sex of a child does not determine whether or not they are likely to bring shame or honor to the family. No one is a burden until you render them one. So the next time I find someone offering their “concern” when they find out I have no brother, I will most likely ask them to give birth to one and bring the kid to my place. Till then, shut it.

P.S. Hajj hiatus and other reasons kept me away from my WordPress blog. I’m back now and I’m ready to doodle. And stuff.

AND OTHER STUFF.

I Don’t Know – I Just Like Ramzan:

Disclaimer: I apologize for being absent for such a long time. I bought a pet crocodile and it ate my hands off. And also any remaining energy to write sensibly. On anything of significant value.

Cadocc Claddell the Curt Crocodile

Let’s get back on track with the first thing on my mind: Ramzan.

It’s around the corner. Instead of doing the obligatory explanation of what Ramzan means to Muslims, I’ve decided to take a sarcastic tone on the whole topic. As a Muslim, I’ve seen and experienced hilarious and often hypocritical behavior during the month by people around me and, in some cases, by my very own self. It’s often amusing when you get to witness an alteration in social etiquette and interaction simply because one month has massive precedence over the eleven others according to a faith. I enjoy that as a believer and, in that time, I find the funniest people who I fancy doodling later on. (Secretly.) (Because I don’t want to get killed.) (Humor can be fatal.) (These brackets are nice.)

So I decided to ask people what they love about Ramzan the most and here’s what I received as input. Feel free to share your funny anecdotes in the comments section.

Soaring Market Prices:

This lady loves it all. So does the man next to her, crippling under the collapsing economy while offering her her daily groceries. Bless them.

"Here, ma'am. Your groceries and an invisible burden of worries concerning your budget. Have a lovely day."

 Is Your Moon the Same as the One in My Damn Backyard?

Because that will determine the day I get to celebrate Eid, dude.

All I ever wanted was to celebrate Eid on the same day, man.

Convenient Reasoning for Asinine Behavior:

Use your religious ritual as an excuse to annoy other people. It works!

This stuff isn't legit.

 Religious Education via TV VS Religious Education via Self Exploring:

Believe me, you won’t find God on TV. I tried. It doesn’t work. You will, however, find maniacs ready to kill anyone who disagrees.

Time Well Spent (Swearing Others Off):

Hey, if you’re whispering-backbiting about how utterly pathetic he/she is, you’re still backbiting. Thought I’d let you know.

Subtracting your points now.

 Psychopaths on Pause:

Dangerous. Very dangerous. Run while you can.

Your Boss Doesn’t Care:

You can stop using your fast as an excuse now.

Fasting? Lovely. Now staple those files.

Redundant Diet is Redundant:

This isn’t a bad trait per se. It’s just annoying.

Eve Teasing:

I’m glad you think she’s pretty but you can stop staring now. Also for the next eleven months. Thank you. No, really. Thank you.

So there you go. Don’t do these pestering acts this month, okay? Trust me, you have plenty of time to be a pain in the rear end once Ramzan’s over.

Oh, one thing you shouldn’t do (that often well-to-do Muslims end up saying anyway) is abruptly and loudly invite someone to accept Islam as the way of life. It’s not exactly the best way to change someone’s faith. Like, for instance, one time a friend of mine invited her atheist friend over for iftaari (breaking fast) and her friend really, really enjoyed the damn samosa my friend’s mother made. Something like this happened:

Calm down.

Don’t do that. Islam doesn’t work like that. You could do this though:

Alhumdullilah, dude.

That’s really cool and really Islamic. 100% halal. Or you could win someone’s heart by practicing your faith in subtle, harmless fashion. I do that. It feels nice like marshmallows.

This Ramzan, make sure you don’t do double acts on the whole deal. He’s watching anyway so you might as well say what you mean and mean what you say the halal way.

Don't be this guy.

Happy Ramzan, everyone!

P.S. Now you can comment from your very Facebook account. How rad is that? Almost as rad as not pissing someone off this Ramzan. Exponentially rad.

Just Your Average Pakistani Muslim Fanatic

I was arguing with a professor once about stereotypes and how they affect us in both direct and indirect ways on discerning levels. After being viewed as a brown Muslim female from Pakistan, I have had my fair share of instances where apparently wise people ended up asking me questions that deserved exasperated sighs and, sometimes, a good punch or two. e.g. “Do you guys in Pakistan kill every girl who wants to study?” and recently “Does everyone wear those black face net things? I heard you can get shot if you don’t.”

Stereotypes are scientifically termed as empirical generalizations based on a particular group of people. Sociologists use these prototypes and descriptions to study rules, exceptions, traits, mores among other commonalities. The average individual with average intellect (and in most cases, reluctance to pick up a book and learn better about something) uses them to encapsulate massive demographic in one ignorant little bubble.

Enough of the sociological jargon. Behold! The stereotypical fundamentalist Pakistani!

He sleeps with his extremist cat ever so extremistically.

Dental cavities stand no chance before him and his tube of halal toothpaste:

"Meet your brutal fate, haram germs!" he growled.

Coco Pops and wheat oatmeal, you have been warned. This man will munch your breakfast into oblivion:

And they were no more.

Raised with institutionalized hatred against algebra and geometry, this fanatic will do everything in his power to wipe their inky existence away:

They said he was aggressive and obnoxious.

She reached home safely. Don't worry.

His younger sister, another fundamentalist, grew up to become a suicidal quadricyclist.

His favorite TV channel is Geo.

After a long day of waging jihad against stupidity and ignorance, the Average Pakistani Muslim Fanatic has one message for you all:

Dedicated to Pyari Pakistanis: Happy Women’s Day, y’all!

That’s right! If you support gender equality and empowerment of both sides, you’re my friend forever. If possible, I’ll even make you cupcakes with vanilla and cinnamon flavored icing. Fifi Haroon and I believe in fighting against gender discrimination, abuse and stereotyping one teacup at a time.

Let’s get to business first.

Do Pakistani women receive equal access to education?

No. In fact according to SD Dimensions:

“In Pakistan, educational attainment shows poor results. Particularly the educational status of Pakistani women is among the lowest in the world. According to the 1981 census, the literacy rate for the population of 10 years and above is 26.2%. However, there are distinct gender and rural/urban differentials concealed in the literacy rate. Women have a literacy rate of 16%, as against 35% for men. Similarly, the literacy rate for the urban population only is 47.1%, whereas the literacy rate for the rural population is 17.3%. Moreover, this rural/urban differential is more pronounced in the case of women than men. The literacy rate for urban men (55.3%) is more than twice the rate for rural men (26.2%). However, the literacy rate for urban women (37.3%) is more than five times the rate for rural women (7.3%).”

Which is like so not cool, bro. You can help alleviate this terrible situation by teaching children around you. Weekly visits to government schools are not only fun but extremely generous on your part to help a poor child to learn to read or write. You can even bring educational reforms by simply securing the attention of the district officials to this plight. You can help fix this education emergency by even signing this petition here: http://educationemergency.com.pk/

See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? You can make Pakistan a happier, smarter place. Oh, look. Sana Saleem agrees too.

Has violence against Pakistani women decreased?

Unfortunately, no. Trafficking, sexual abuse, acid burning, rape and other forms of brutality against women continue to grow day by day. Furthermore orthodox customs such as karo kari and public stoning are practiced even today. Patriarchies grow stronger and more violent by the minute. It becomes redundant to share statistics about a truth so obvious. What we can do to stop this from happening is simple: Speak up. If you see a woman being harassed or abused, do something. Inform the police, try stopping the abuser, provide protection for the woman. By supporting these women, you are giving them the strength and protection they need to fight back misogynists.

Are Pakistani women provided equal opportunity for employment?

Uh uh. This report from SD Dimensions explains the state of labor opportunity in Pakistan quite well:

“In Pakistan’s economy women play an active role. But their contribution has been grossly underreported in various censuses and surveys. Consequently, official labour force statistics show a very minimal participation of women. For example, the 1991-92 Labour Force Survey revealed that only about 16% of women aged 10 years and over were in the labour force and in comparison, the men’s participation rate was 84%. On the contrary, the 1980 agricultural census showed that women’s participation rate in agriculture was 73% and that women accounted for 25% of all full-time and 75% of all part-time workers in agricultural households. Also, the 1990-1991 Pakistan Integrated Household Survey indicated that the female labour force participation rate was 45% in rural areas and 17% the urban areas. Thus it is clear that if women’s contribution to economic production is assessed accurately, a conservative estimate of women’s labour force participation would be between 30% and 40%.”

Which sucks, bro.

Has the image of Pakistani women changed in its conservative society?

Barely. Stereotyping has remained one of the most aggravating problems for women in Pakistan. Labels, titles and assumptions not only fry our brains but also leave us utterly disappointed. What can you, as a Pakistani, do to fix this? Quit sexism. It’s not funny. Sandwich jokes are so two minutes ago. From now on, if you hear someone crack a sexist joke, try this:

And then:
Happy?

Because sexist humor and stereotyping is disgusting and women are running low on patience and tolerance. So if you don’t want a passionate iron hammer you-know-where, I sincerely suggest you put a halt to that crass humor.

Besides Bina Shah and a million other Pakistani women are morphing into desi Kill Bills and they’re more than ready to slice your chauvinism into fine pieces.

The point? The point is that every one of you, no matter how flawed, no matter where you are coming from or heading to, no matter what you have or don’t, you all are strong, full of hope, resilience and beautiful Pakistani women.

Whether you’re from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa or even from the Northern Areas.

Or Punjab.

Or Sindh.

Or Balochistan.

You all are amazing Pakistani women. You can change this place for the best. God damn it, I could hug all of you right now. Now go fight patriarchy, sexism, discrimination and ignorance!

Happy Women’s Day!

When In Doubt:

Brilliant solution for every problem in the country.

Blame Christians, women or USA-Israel for everything in Pakistan. Very effective.

What’s going on, Pakistan?

You were thinking “Ha! She gave up blogging. She can’t keep up with the timing. She lost her humor or her mind or both”. But you were wrong, dear, you were terribly, horribly, apocalyptically incorrect. Your assumption will now be annihilated by the onslaught of my crayons and bitter mood. After all, this country gives me so much to draw about; including political and religious debates that have been rambled upon until I could actually memorize the beginning, middle and end of every rebuttal from both sides. The crux from both ends of the spectrum? A polite rephrasing of the rather blatant statement: We’re not ready to take responsibility of any discrepancy on our part. It’s much easier that way. Bitch.

But I digress.

Where was I? I was in Tumaï, Nairobi. Did you know that Tumaï is a women’s village (of the Samburu tribe) that offers shelter and protection to battered women? It is essentially a matriarchy that consists of 150 people roughly (no men allowed) and it refuses to register your repulsive sexism as significant or applicable. While it is a real-life village, I met these women in my head under my big, curly hair. My imagination runs gender-equally and wild. Kilele, “Maasai Lady”, wouldn’t mind kicking your butt if you’re insensitive to gender discrimination and abuse. She says hi.

No, seriously. Where was I? I was away in my little utopia sipping lemonade, munching on digestive wheat cookies and narrowly escaping the clutches of depression. Our country, in the past few months, has projected in a downward spiral where sanity, rationality and peaceful coexistence have turned into – what’s the word? – mirages. So you can’t really expect someone like me to be jubilant about doodling under circumstances that also entail several lovelies assuming I’m an American agent OR, worse, drawing as a “liberal fascist.” What?

Why can’t we collectively call a spade a spade? Why can’t we call a murder a murder, a crime a crime? Why can’t we, you need to tell me, call a villain a villain instead of a hero?

Why can’t we muster up the courage to own up to our faults and then gracefully step towards the stage where rectifying our errors is not just the need of the gory hour but also something that we owe to our fellow citizens including minorities, women and children? Did I just say that? Did I just say minorities, women and children are rightful citizens of Pakistan too? Blasphemous of me.

So I was hibernating simply because the insanity around us has grown exponentially and my brain cells fried for a while. But now that I’m back, expect doodles, anecdotes and observations on the surroundings you and I share. About time we MS-Painted this chaos to its death. This is our country. You and I can actually fix it.

P.S. Why doesn’t MS Paint have a decent shade of beige? Damn it.

P.P.S. Pagal Bhabi is here. And she’s very angry.

The ratio of the credit goes to Umer and me like this = 52:48. Thank you for yelling at me in the car and for showing me how to drive with road rage tonight as it is truer, Umer. You're possibly the most intelligent friend I have.