aving formally studied feminism and read about the history of women’s rights movements around the world can sometimes give one the idea that they are fully equipped to fight patriarchal norms. Feminists like me, who have studied in good schools and had supportive parents may feel that their contributions to women’s rights activism is valuable. But then there are other women, including some on the frontlines in the women’s rights movement, who haven’t read the literature but have practically lived the feminist theory. The feminist literature, while valuable, does not always fully prepare one for the harsh realities of activism. The real strength of the movement comes from women who have lived the feminist principles, not just read about them.
In August 2024, hoping to meet one such hero, I travelled to south Punjab. I had read articles about her. She became an authentic voice against violent practices against women in rural areas at a young age and has been a part of our discourse, but it has been quite some time since we last heard from her. While I prepared to visit her, I was quite in awe and not sure how the conversation would flow.
Finally, I was in Alipur and had reached her home. I found her standing outside, waiting for me. One doesn’t usually see women doing that in a south Punjab village. Mukhtiara has a simple home. She was very calm and down to earth. She made me feel like I was visiting an aunt. Her simple home and calm presence dispelled my fears.
I asked why she had handed her schools to the government. She said first that she had run out of funding and could not find donors to sustain the school and then added that for a woman running the institute had always been a challenge. “To many men here, I am like a bone in their throat. They can neither chew at it nor swallow. This is what a strong woman is to them.”
She said she had not tried to keep up with the latest in the world. Instead, she was trying only to make her world safer for the women around her. Mukhtiara, who was subjected to sexual abuse by men in her town following a tribal Jirga verdict, said, “I was not even aware of what would happen… I just knew in that moment that what had happened was extremely unfair and I would not bow down. I never anticipated fame. I did not think about what my life would be like. I was simply a girl who found her voice when she was wronged.”
Why did the funding dry up? Mukhtiara said, “I cannot write long proposals in English. I am a simple rural woman trying to raise her children. Most of the funding goes to women’s rights activists in cities. They secure project aid because they have a strong educational background and international networks.”
While Mukhtiara lives in Alipur, speaks Seraiki and lacks access to international funding opportunities, those in cities often receive most of the funding and some of it never reaches the grassroots. I have myself written requests for grants saying I am a feminist living in Pakistan. The grants have been mostly used in schools in the urban centres.
We must move beyond simply recognising the problem and actively seek solutions: developing inclusive funding mechanisms, fostering mentorship programmes that reach marginalised communities and prioritising the voices of women who have lived the realities of systemic oppression.
For a person like Mukhtiara, who has given all her life to fighting for women’s rights, not being in the right network creates an unfair environment. The point of bringing this up is to create solutions to how we can improve our efforts to make the world safer for women not only in the urban centres but also in the periphery. The stark contrast highlighted the inherent unfairness of a system that prioritises those with access to resources and connections, often leaving behind the women most deeply invested in change.
This encounter forced a critical self-reflection. It was not enough to acknowledge the disparity; it demanded action. We, the feminists in the urban sphere, must confront the limitations of our current approaches. How can we dismantle the barriers that prevent women like Mukhtiara from accessing the support and resources they need? How can we shift our focus beyond the urban centres and cultivate meaningful, sustainable change in the peripheries? We must move beyond simply recognising the problem and actively seek solutions: developing inclusive funding mechanisms, fostering mentorship programmes that reach marginalised communities and prioritising the voices of women who have lived the realities of systemic oppression. Only then can we fairly claim to be working towards a safer world for all women, not just those within our immediate surroundings.”
We shared a cup of tea, discussing her life after the international recognition she received and how she still meets women who are suffering.
She has continued living in the same area and talked about how she has received threats from the people she had fought against. “It is a perennial threat. I could have moved somewhere else, but I do not want to. I belong here; I will live here no matter what happens”.
This made me think about how media reporting can create only a bubble of fame and recognition. Once you are out of the news, you are forced to live the realities you had temporarily escaped from. Mukhtiara, for me, is the face of actual resilience.
When she rose to face her abusers, she did not know how many voices will side with her. She bade me farewell, saying “I love talking to young women trying to find their voices.”
The writer is a freelance journalist from Lahore.
