The Emotional Toll of Autonomy in a Patriarchal Society
Sabah Khan
As a child, visiting our village in Pakistan felt like a positive experience. Despite the power outages, bad weather, and strange toilets, we still enjoyed our holidays, perhaps a result of our childhood curiosity and imagination. We’d play in the field, visit the village bazaar, and attend colorful weddings. We had countless cousins and second cousins and third cousins and so on. There was never a dull moment.
Things started changing in my teenage years. The visits to the village weren’t as liberating as they were in my childhood. The concept of ‘parda’ was introduced to me around age eleven. I’d gotten my period at around the same age. Within a year I went from being free to do as I please, to being a young woman who needed to guard her modesty. I wanted to go to the bazaar like the boys. I wanted to play in the fields like the boys. It went without saying that I was not allowed to do either. It felt like a silent pact, agreed upon by everyone as soon as a girl hit puberty. If I wanted to go somewhere, I needed a male guardian to accompany me, be it a driver or an uncle.
Such experiences with patriarchal expectations would continue to shape my life, even as I entered adulthood. I married a man from Pakistan fourteen years my senior. I was young, vulnerable, and my self esteem was low. If I was going to get married (and my mother made it clear that this was not optional), I felt that this option was “good enough”.
He immigrated to the U.S. and we lived together for 16 years, and have one child together. I was the breadwinner throughout my marriage, supporting the household and living with my in-laws. For 16 years, I made sacrifices against my will, and was praised for it. The stereotype of the "docile South Asian woman" is a harmful and deeply ingrained mindset that reinforces gendered power imbalances in our families. We are often praised for “qualities” like obedience and submissiveness, while those who challenge it are viewed as deviant. For nearly two decades, this mindset kept me from gaining autonomy and reclaiming my independence.
The concept of divorce was completely alien to my family. I can probably count the number of divorces in my family on one hand. My own divorce is a recent addition to the list. Once I got divorced, the qualities that I was commended for throughout my life no longer seemed to hold any value. Divorce was inevitable for me. After years of being a breadwinner and taking care of the house, I was at my wit’s end as to why my partner lacked any ambition. My decision was solidified by the constant gaslighting; I was a bad wife and a bad mother. There was no winning. If this was life, then I’d rather not live it. The aftermath of the divorce was typical. My ex made lots of noise about me, to anyone who would listen really. Meanwhile, I moved on, to a new home, a new job, a new life, and new goals.
This experience is the story of millions of women who are taught that their value lies in fulfilling society's expectations. It’s the story of any woman who exercises autonomy, speaks up for herself, and dares to challenge the status quo. Ask any Pakistani person about Malala Yusufzai, for example, and you'll hear a range of opinions, from branding her a CIA agent to dismissing her as an opportunist. Rarely is she recognized for what she truly is: a victim of a violent attack. “Rebellious women” are often held responsible for all the ills of society, with other women contributing to the perpetuation of patriarchal norms.
My divorce taught me that my child’s happiness is my top priority. He will not have decisions made for him. He will not compete with anyone but himself. His most important relationships will be the ones he forges, not the ones he was born into. His worth will not be measured by other people, nor will he seek validation from them. His dreams and passions will not be sacrificed for the sake of keeping up with the Joneses. He is currently pursuing performing arts, and watching him live his passion is healing something within me. He was recently asked to choose a topic for a writing assignment for school. He chose racism - and how racism has shaped the personalities of children of Pakistani origin. He sees his mother as something of a superhero, and isn’t afraid to say it. He has been taught, and will continue to be taught the importance of recognising and acknowledging women.
It's time for Pakistani men to recognize their privilege and work towards dismantling the oppressive systems that harm women. It's time to stop putting the burden of Pakistan's patriarchal society on the shoulders of women. It's time to stop praising women for their constant sacrifices and lack of autonomy. Women deserve to feel a sense of agency, and we all play a role in empowering each other. We must challenge the patriarchal norms that we have grown up with, and work together to create a generation of women who can reach their full potential.
