It’s the International Day of the Girl and Pakistan is shamelessly on the bottom of the global ranking in empowering them. They face death; stunted growth; violence; child labour and limited or no access to education and medical care.
I took a dirt road two hours away from Peshawar in 2017 to find out more about how young girls with no access to education can be brought back into the gig economy.
I spoke to about a dozen young girls and recorded their
interviews to put a report for the people who were working to change the
traditional set up in the conservative Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) district.
I spoke to the adolescent girls learning vocational skills like tutoring, tailoring and computer skills. Some girls between 15 and 19 were clad in burqas, others in chadors and most, in a deep sense of shame. Their body language was subdued and their presence was mild like they were a bit too grateful for the donor support I had gone to assess.
Raheela was an unforgettable young girl. She was a Frida
Pinto lookalike, big eyes and a chiseled jawbone with fierceness about her life
story that both humbled and awed me. She was what we call a success story that
we were to tout for more funding in the area of adolescent girls, where
government support failed or was neglectful.
Raheela had learned to make a lot of money over the past few
months. She was given a grant to receive a brand new Singer sewing machine. The
machine allowed her to sell clothes to local women that she sewed faster and
better. She could now afford to send her younger siblings to school. That
month, she made more money in thirty days than her drunk and abusive father
made in a year.
Many would consider this a success, but for Raheela, it meant a disrupted order of status quo that led her father to rage and episodic beatings.
She looked at me to answer questions with a black eye that she unsuccessfully attempted to mask under a cheap concealer, three shades lighter than her wheat skin colour. I had to, so I asked her about the black-blue eye.
Her face comes to me like a floating ghost when I hear politicians rattle their podiums and make big promises. When big men with power claim justice for the common people who are facing stagflation in the economy, I wonder if they really ever see Raheela.
Am I ugly, bad and unworthy? She asked me in response.
No.
I said she was beautiful and good and worthy and that it was
the people who exploited her that should be put away.
She was not fearless, but she was incredibly brave.
Today, we mark the International Day of the Girl Child, so I went back to my notes from that day I met Raheela.
I often think of Raheela because she is far away from the
cult of cool that many young adolescent girls her age are obsessed with. She
cares more about how to hide her siblings when her father picks up the rod than
she does about getting the corners of her wing eyeliner right. Her life is more
immediate and her troubles are not imagined.
Her face comes to me like a floating ghost when I hear politicians rattle their podiums and make big promises. When big men with power claim justice for the common people who are facing stagflation in the economy, I wonder if they really ever see Raheela. I wonder if they hear the tremble in her voice when she describes going back to a home where she faces chronic punishment for working to support her family. I wonder if they even know that in this country, girls are prematurely sexualised and prematurely made into grown-up adults when they are too young to even understand their own bodies.
I’m going to dare to dream a world for her today because that is what the day calls for – after all the GirlForce is unscripted and unstoppable.
If I could reimagine a world for Pakistan’s Raheela, I would dare to dream that she has a lot of hygiene. That she has access to sanitary pads that are biodegradable and safe. Many girls in the programme who enter puberty end up missing their vocational classes just because they are on their period. The norm is unsanitary cloth packs that leak and limit their mobility. I want a world where a period doesn’t signal young women’s child-bearing age, but an age that needs care and protection from people who have an exploitative mindset. Commercial sanitary pads are prohibitively expensive in rural areas and there is no education on how to maintain mobility during menstruation. As a result, menstruation is used as a weapon to ground Raheela.
I often think of Raheela because she is far away from the cult of cool that many young adolescent girls her age are obsessed with. She cares more about how to hide her siblings when her father picks up the rod than she does about getting the corners of her wing eyeliner right.
I would also imagine a world for her where the road to the vocational centre would not be planted with land mines of honour culture. Where the local village perverts won’t call her a slut for wandering instead of being invisible. I’d want local police to punish those men if they dare make her feel threatened. Instead, local police usually victim-blame young women who face eve-teasing and sexual harassment. Raheela was asked to go back home and fetch her abusive father before a legal complaint is lodged. She ended up not complaining and facing the men in her path day after day, passively.
It would be rather nice if Raheela had a basic smartphone that allowed her to receive her stipend in a mobile wallet, safe from the drug-addiction ambitions of her father. A mobile wallet that allows her to buy her mother the medicines she needs to repair her mental health, her self-esteem and her social embarrassment for only giving birth to girls.
Access to the internet would be great for Raheela. She could get socially connected to friends and family she trusts and can rely on. She could even search the latest fashion trends to remix in the clothes she designs and sells in larger cities. She could learn English, the language the internet uses and sharpen her Urdu skills using tutorials. She could search for entertainment and watch shows that give her respite from her reality. She could use YouTube to research how to manage money and do basic bookkeeping so her business can stay afloat longer.
I’d want a world where Raheela knows that elsewhere in the universe, there are doctors who perform surgeries remotely; that holograms exist; that future jobs will focus on creativity and collaboration; that there are smart shoes that measure everything including steps. Most importantly, that she can protect her digital footprint and have her cyber world secure from prying eyes of men who can hurt her now or in the future. She could know her rights as a citizen. She would know then, that the state has promised to protect her, educate her for free and punish anyone who harms her physically. That would change her mindset.
I want Raheela to know that clothes look better when you wear them on your back while standing up straight, chin up, shoulders back. Raheela is not ugly, not a bad person and she is not unworthy of this dream I have dreamed entirely on her behalf.
I’d like to give her some representation in the local government, perhaps even as a citizen. She could understand that there are others like her suffering in the community and hold a town hall with them to support community involvement. Raheela could help create public pressure to have easier access to schools, transport, healthcare and plumbing by speaking up for more young women.
I want Raheela to know that clothes look better when you wear them on your back while standing up straight, chin up, shoulders back. Raheela is not ugly, not a bad person and she is not unworthy of this dream I have dreamed entirely on her behalf.
It’s the International Day of the Girl. Pakistan is shamelessly on the bottom of the global ranking in empowering them. Girls in Pakistan face death; stunted growth; violence; child labour and limited or no access to education and medical care.
It’s too late for Raheela, by now she may have a few girls of her own, her father may have won at patriarchy and she may have lost at it. Can we please get this dream in a politician’s speech so it could maybe… maybe become a part of the cult of cool that some girls can never reach.
