Let women’s vote transform Pakistan

My work took me to meet a woman called Wajeeha in the remote area of Arbab Landi of Peshawar District, KP province in Pakistan. She was sitting at a Singer sewing machine stitching intricate designs of lace on a women’s dress. She was straining to stitch, but if you looked closely you could see that she was crying.

That day, she was to receive an award for being the top dressmaker in the province. The ceremony was to be held in another city called Naushera. She was there stitching at the Singer machine instead because her husband vetoed the idea of her traveling to Naushera for the award. Telling her story, through her melancholy Wajeeha said the word “permission” far too many times. He just didn’t give her permission.

It took her a great number of years to perfect her craft. It took a lot of permissions to be allowed to work and sell her dresses in the first place, but when it was time to claim her reward — the patriarch said no. It was a conversation-stopper. He reminded her that her real place was in the house before all else.

Wajeeha wanted to know the real solution. She was willing to do whatever it took, but she wanted an end to the veto. 

Wajeeha’s story is the story of all women — only with a varying level of veto from the men in their lives. Like all women here and in other developing countries with a conservative undertone, the fight is a long one. The fight and victory has to come from the electoral process. It had to come from mainstreaming women in the political process. No shortcuts.

What is complicated is that the very patriarchy that women in politics aim to crush holds the permission to allow them to be political in the first place. Still, women are pushing back. The last general elections in 2013 saw the highest number of women voters — 45 percent. Many more women filed papers as contestants on general seats than ever before — A total of 455. However, there are three main constraints that hold women like Wajeeha back from being part of the political process.

Awareness is the biggest hindrance: understanding the correlation between women's involvement in politics and the transformation of multilayered power structures — in both society and the household. The disillusionment in the political process elsewhere seeps into women’s psyches as well. Women like Wajeeha don’t understand that they are better off voting for candidates, or lobbying other women to do so, for those candidates that have pro-women policies.

Safer streets for women to be more mobile, for instance, rubbishes the claim by men that their decision to condemn women indoors is because public space is dangerous for women.

This leads to under-registration. The gender gap in voter registration last time around was 11 million, according to the Election Commission of Pakistan: The most embarrassing figure relative to other countries in South Asia. Despite a massive drive to document women, only 76 percent of women have national identity cards in Pakistan. Political commentators have recommended that an ID card should automatically allow women to be registered voters.

Undocumented women slip through the cracks, not only in terms of the political process but also in terms of state resources. Many women simply don’t get permission to get an ID card. 

The lack of inclusion of women in politics is not entirely women's faults. Political parties have failed to engage them. When they do engage them — I’ve had some experience with this activism — it is grossly segregated, very sidelined and they pretty much have the women in these political offices do office housework, such as organize food for moots. They relegate them to the women’s wings of the parties. The entire point is to give women power, not have them do the thankless work of care-giving and mothering political parties.

The debate on women’s participation in politics in Pakistan has largely remained confined to reserving women’s seats in parliament, but the real issue is the lack of a level playing field, where intersectional women — those with multiple identities — can step out and compete on their own terms. Ideally, with credentials that are not necessarily linked to a male guardian, nor propped up with campaign wealth.

Until Wajeeha can stitch together the fabric of her needs and dreams into the politics of this country, we will not be able to see real change. Make her mobile, grant her access and let her claim what she deserves.

• Aisha Sarwari is co-founder of the Women’s Advancement Hub, a grassroots platform for women to amplify their voices. She has been working on women’s rights for more than 15 years in Pakistan. Twitter: @AishaFSarwari