Shabnam Khashkehli was born and brought up in the ancient city of Shahdadpur, Sindh. After getting married she moved to Sheedi, a town near Hyderabad, to live with her life partner. Her husband was in manual labor until a tragic illness afflicted him. Shabnam found herself quite helpless and anxious, as any other woman dependent on men for livelihood would be.

The dim prospects of children surviving the threat of persistent hunger and starvation to which they had been exposed were constantly staring the family in the face. What gave the experience a more tormenting cast was the further issue of not having enough money for the treatment of the household’s head. She had to support herself along with her children and was faced with two options that some people in similar circumstances usually choose from, that is, to live off the labor of others either relying on almsgiving or starting to beg altogether. As a self-reliant and respectable woman, she refused to choose among the given alternatives and decided to do something on her own.

Determined to work with a singular purpose of establishing something lasting in her mind, she opened up a bicycle repair shop. Next to the workplace, she also had a setup built that featured a billiard/snooker table for those customers who could kill time with it as their bicycle was undergoing repair.

Money started coming in and finally, Shabnam was able to support her husband, and two children, through thick and thin. She now earns 700 to 1000 rupees per day and has been able to send her two children to school – one of them is currently doing matriculation from a local school while the other is enrolled in an intermediate college.

Through her work, Shabnam got opportunities to rub shoulders with her male counterparts. Realizing that it is quite difficult for a woman to survive in traditionally male work, Shabnam changed her name to Shabu Dada. Not long ago, the town where she lives currently was infamous for criminal activities and was considered a hotbed of narcotics/drugs. Shabnam says that she gave her a new name to scare off local thugs and hooligans.

Shabnam is now the talk of the town and has set an example for many other women from her native town of Sheedi, Hyderabad, Sindh, who, out of diffidence, see no other way, thereby inevitably deferring to constraining traditions and compromising on their freedom to act.

Pakistan’s female labor force participation (22 percent) remains among the lowest in South Asia. Rigid gender roles, social norms, lack of access to safe and secure transport, and household responsibilities – among many others, are the critical barriers that prevent the majority of Pakistan’s women from having the time to work.

Yet, when faced with enormous challenges that life throws at common Pakistani women, many of them, perforce, have to take up the uphill task of becoming a breadwinner to support their families. In addition to the necessary burden of undertaking domestic labor that hardly gets acknowledged, countless unsung women heroes go to great lengths to work outside their households to make ends meet.

Despite copious obstacles and enormous resistance, these women step out of chaardeewari (homes) and defy societal attitudes associated with the concept of purdah that places so many overt and covert restrictions on their agency and autonomy. But these courageous women remain uncounted and neglected in official annals and figures.

It is high time that these marginalized and silenced, though ultimately promising, facets of our social life were unearthed and brought before the public eye.

The post Breaking Barriers – Shabnam’s Courage in The Face of Adversity appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

“I have come here out of choice, nobody has forced me. I have gotten married and I am a Muslim now. I would request my family members not to follow me, otherwise, I will kill myself.”

This statement comes from a Christian minor who was abducted, forcefully converted to Islam, and then married off to the abductor. The story of Mehak is one among many of these horrific tales of forced abduction and conversion that are visited upon minority communities in Pakistan. Her tragic saga epitomizes the tormented and traumatic nature of what comes to characterize the afterlives of the victims of such crimes. Kidnapped from Faisalabad by Shahid Ali, she was held in captivity for three months, then abused and raped for days on end, until she got pregnant.

Sitting next to her mother, seeming quite ill at ease, Mehak, with her brooding downcast eyes, begins to recount her story, she mumbles, perhaps at loss for words to narrate that unspeakable trauma, and she starts over again.

On that fateful day when she was taken away from her home, Mehak’s mother, Saima, who is a teacher at a local school, had gone to work, leaving her daughter alone. It was around 12:30 pm when her alleged kidnapper barged into their house and held up Mehak. She had a gun held to her head, was kidnapped, and taken away to an unknown location.

Mehak’s abductor is still at large. The family has been reluctant to approach the police ever since they were threatened with dire consequences of informing law enforcement agencies. Although Mehak returned home afterward, time and again the kidnapper reminds the family that he still wants to be with her and makes threats of killing her and her family.

Months after the incident took place, the family is constantly living in fear of that dreadful event and are scared for their lives, Mehak’s siblings have now left their schools to avoid another mishap.

Mehak’s story is not an isolated event but a testament to and reflective of the larger trend of forced abduction of conversion of underage girls from a minority community. Observers have noted that it has amplified further recently, with an estimated 1,000 Christian and Hindu girls between 12 and 25 years of age meeting this fate each year.^[1]

“One day, my husband and I went outside. In order to scare my daughter, the accused fired shots at us. I was injured and still have five bullets in my leg.”  – Saima (Mehak’s Mother)

This practice of forced conversion constitutes a critical human rights issue in Pakistan. The blatant threat towards minorities is as clear as the day, however, the delayed response by the state has added to the tensions of these people and has only aggravated these attacks.

In the face of potential opposition from religious clergy, for example, the government has consistently failed to introduce requisite legislative and policy reforms to protect its minorities – as exemplified by its failure to develop consensus over passing anti-forced conversion legislation or to implement already existing laws related to child marriages. It is this critical gap and weakness in the institutional system that provides opportunities to perpetrators like Shahid Ali. And thus, it is that the perpetrators roam freely with impunity and law-enforcement agencies fail miserably every time such a case happens; while the victims of such crimes and their families continue to suffer and go through all kinds of sufferings – from societal shame to bouts of emotional breakdown and flashbacks that make them relive their trauma now and than – long after such an incident takes place.

[1] All-Party Parliamentary Group for Pakistani Minorities (APPGPM). (2021, November 26). Abductions, Forced Conversions, and Forced Marriages of Religious Minority Women and Girls in Pakistan. Available at, https://appgfreedomofreligionorbelief.org/media/APPG-Pakistan-Minorities-Report.pdf

The post Forced to Convert & Marry her Rapist – Mehak’s Afterlife as a Christian Girl appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

The untimely death of Shaukat Masih (in his mid-30s) in April 2022, marks perhaps the latest incident, unfortunately not the last, in a never-ending cycle of miseries that characterize the collective lives of minorities in Pakistan. This unfortunate incident is yet another reminder to society of the costs and disadvantages of extreme marginalization to which the minorities have been relegated – had this happened in some other part of the world it would have jolted the very conscience of the society. As is so frequently the case, however, such incidents are occasioned by a tokenistic outpouring of grief from some sections of society only to be forgotten and erased as the news cycle renews itself to take up yet another issue as per the considerations of maximizing media ratings and profiteering.

Shaukat was born and brought up in Faisalabad – Pakistan’s textile industrial hub. Described as a hardworking person by his colleagues, he was always on time for his job and had made it a point never to shirk his responsibilities. As a sanitation worker, he was employed on a contractual basis as a daily wage laborer with the Water and Sanitation Agency (WASA) in Faisalabad. The sanitation work he had been doing involved opening clogged underground sewerage lines that release toxic gases from excrement, pollutants, and other waste. Quite aside from the fact that the job is considered unhygienic and potentially life-threatening, it is also financially unrewarding to meet basic needs. When a sanitation worker goes down a manhole – without safety equipment – it must be barely at the back of his mind whether he will be able to come out alive.

Shaukat’s wife had asked him on several occasions to quit his work. Fearing it would snatch from them the only source of their livelihoods, Shaukat could not relent. “He said it would be difficult for us to survive without the job and take care of the children, especially in these times when inflation is so high,” his widow recalls. The injustice meted out to sanitation workers is evident from the fact that even though originally Shaukat had been employed as a sanitation worker at WASA, occasionally he would be required to work as a mechanic.

On Friday, April 1, 2022, Shaukat Masih, along with three co-workers, was on his routine job. With a promise to return with some cash for his wife and clothes for their children, he dropped his wife at her workplace. On that fateful day, he could not have foreseen that his life was about to end – without any warning or proviso – and that he would be unable to see his wife and children again. Shehzad Masih, his co-workers, who accompanied him to the sight and survived the incident which claimed Shaukat’s life, recounts what transpired on that day.

It was in the afternoon that they received an order from their supervisor, who asked them to hurry to arrive at the local sanitation disposal plant where they were required to unclog a sewerage line. It turned out that the sewerage line was poisonous and when his co-workers descended into it without safety gear, they passed out after exposure to poisonous fumes. Seeing that his co-workers were in trouble, Shaukat decided to rescue them and went down the manhole; the rest is history.

“We received a call from our supervisor. Never in our life have we refused his order. While working, we opened the gutter cover. What happened later, I don’t remember. When I came to senses I was in the hospital and was not even informed that Shaukat had passed away, except for that it was he who rescued us all,” Shehzad said.

In a bid to rescue his co-workers, Shaukat lost his own life as his dead body was recovered later.

The single most prevalent reason for the death of sanitation workers is the lack of proper sanitation equipment. Aamir Rahmat, who serves as the secretary of the Jamhoori Workers Union, says, “As many as 46 sanitation workers have lost their lives on duty. The death of Shaukat Masih is the latest in the series of incidents that have been happening here on an almost daily basis.” As most of these sanitation workers are employed on an informal/contractual basis, it enables employers to get around labor laws and shelve requisite responsibilities of providing their workers with necessary training and safety equipment. It is high time that steps were taken to provide legal justice to victims of exploitation and discrimination like Shaukat Masih. This requires setting in place strict mechanisms to gain compliance of employers with necessary labor regulations. Moreover, by providing sanitation workers with permanent contracts, and imparting them training and safety equipment, we can save many precious lives.

[1] According to the National Commission of Human Rights (NCHR), Christians make up less than two percent of the population but occupy more than 80 percent of the cleaning, sweeping and sanitation jobs. See, for example, https://www.france24.com/en/live-news/20220404-pipe-dreams-pakistan-sewage-workers-hope-for-better-future

The post Destined for Poisoned Work – The Story of Shaukat Masih appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

Salman is a middle-aged man and resident of the Shangla district in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. He is a coal miner and, as stated by his family, working on the edge of death every day. Long and tedious unregulated working hours, extreme weather temperatures, and life-threatening toxic gases are all a combination to kill the miners coupled with missing legislation for Occupational Safety and Health regulations (OSH).

With some of the world’s largest coal deposits, Pakistan’s economy is fueled by the “black gold,” but at a high human cost to those who provide the country’s energy demands. The government’s ineptitude and reluctance to enforce mining regulations in Pakistan is obvious, and it has severe effects. The overcrowded mining inspectorate system, which is the statutory custodian of coal mineworkers’ lives, is the most frightening and severe problem. The federal government is responsible for the laws and regulations, while the provinces are responsible for their execution.

Because the mining inspectorate is paralyzed, this approach exposes mineworkers to inconsistent and unequal enforcement of the law between provinces, with essentially no repercussions in the event of a violation. The mining inspectorate’s reports are ignored with no repercussions. There is no record of mineworkers who go down and then return to the surface. There is no national database of mineworkers either. Additional contributing elements to the carnage include the widespread and uncontrolled use of contracting, subcontracting, poor wages, a lack of safety and security, and inadequate recompense for families of mineworkers who die in the mines.^[2]

Salman is no exception to these exploitative practices. His family fears that he could be the next one dead only because there is no proper OSH framework.

Experts indicate that Pakistan’s refusal to ratify ILO C176, which lays the principal framework for miner rights comes at the expense of human life. The only legislation regarding mining enacted by Pakistan is the Mines Act, 1923- a century-old law that is no longer compatible with current technology and mining resources. The biggest drawback of the Act is that it does not allow for the worker’s right to report accidents or to implement OSH setups on their premises. To ensure the safety of mineworkers in Pakistan and to avoid future accidents, the C176 must be ratified along with the OSH agenda taken up by the government. Through that, the government can strengthen the Labour Departments for a thorough inspection and implementation of the few safety laws offered. The other important factor is recording real-time data of complaints and results which should be recorded- helping in the implementation and enforcement of OSH laws, giving out punishments for non-compliance, and compensation in the form of social security coverage and health benefits.

Salman is one of the many miners who live under the looming threat of death, with many who have already witnessed the deaths of their fellow workers. It is imperative to fill in legislative gaps for the safety of mineworkers in Pakistan, complying with all OSH frameworks.

[1] “Depths of Darkness.” Dawn. 29 Mar. 2022, https://www.dawn.com/news/1682346/depths-of-darkness.

[2] Death, Destruction and Destitution in Pakistan’s Coal Mines. 23 Nov. 2017, https://www.industriall-union.org/death-destruction-and-destitution-in-pakistans-coal-mines.

The post Digging Their Graves: The Coal Miners of Balochistan appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

It is not uncommon to hear about stories of abuse, violence, and death when it comes to women- each day a different, far more gruesome than the previous one. But, even after being de-sensitized to the horrors of abuse legitimizing it as ‘an everyday occurrence’, roping in cultural conventions and old-age traditions as standard practice that should have been complied with, one cannot stop and wonder, what is happening to the women in Chitral? Why is the suicide rate in Chitral, even though Pakistan’s overall suicide trend decreased in the last few years with a marked decline from the years 2017 and onwards,^[2] persistently high, and what price are women paying at the hands of honor and traditions. The answers no one is willing to give and the horrors keep on piling up like that of the murder of Huma and her seven-month-old daughter.

Huma (24) belonged to the Chitral valley of the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa region and lived with her parents till her marriage, after which she moved to Chiniot, Punjab with her husband Shoaib. At the time of her marriage, she was not prepared for the horrors that were to ensue. Huma was allegedly the third wife of Shoaib, with existing allegations against him from neighbors regarding a history of abuse and even murder. It was alleged that Shoaib had murdered his first wife through electrocution and had constantly tortured` his second wife; who luckily escaped his clutches after divorcing him but Huma and her seven-month-old daughter could not and were met with a ghastly end. Huma and her infant daughter were murdered in cold blood; stabbed repeatedly with a sharp object- leading to their deaths on the spot while Shoaib fled the scene and a police chase began. Shoaib was apprehended, the murder weapon was confiscated and Shoaib was put behind bars and is currently on death row. The police also added that additional investigations will be carried out against the leveled allegations of the murder of his first wife.

Huma and her infant daughter were fortunate enough to at the very least, have their deaths avenged through legal proceedings but, not all women share the same luck. According to the Pakistan Demographic and Health Survey (PDHS 2017-18), 28 percent of women aged 15 to 49 had experienced intimate partner violence in their lifetimes. Huma’s murder is not an isolated case, but of an overlapping effect of three fractions, “marriage-abuse-suicide/murder.” Given the socio-economic conditions of Chitral, the marriages are seen as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the daughters of already financially vulnerable families, which turn out to be a sham. What follows is a life marred by violence and abuse, often leading to gruesome murders. Those who escape are welcomed with contempt; disregarding the family honor, which in turn end up in suicides- the reason for the high trends in Chitral.

Multiple factors have been brought to light by different studies probing into the factors that were at hand. A few factors were repetitive such as poverty, domestic violence, and most importantly, the enforcement of exploitative norms. Studies have concluded that the women who committed suicide, often lacked access to health care, food, and other essential requirements due to their financial dependence. Furthermore, most of the women’s spouses were uneducated, which increased the likelihood of violence against women. Some of the Chitrali culture’s stringent rules have kept women confined to their houses as they are considered a matter of family honor, therefore venturing outside and meeting strangers might jeopardize it.^[3] The same study also identified that women who committed suicide were also victims of violence, which had contributed to their despair. Relationship aspects of violence against women that contributed to their suicide included a lack of family support, in-law intervention, forced marriage, and extramarital affairs. There were also cases where the women were murdered by their husbands and were covered up as suicides and some cases were not even reported by the families of the victims.

Huma and her daughter’s case is one of the many cases of abuse and violence perpetrated against Chitrali women at the behest of economic and social vulnerability. Although Huma was brought justice, it certainly came at the expense of her life- something that can be circumvented if the women of Chitral, and women in Pakistan generally, are provided economic opportunities for financial independence and abhorrent, but normalized social praxis is curtailed. Gaps due to missing legislation about domestic violence should be covered through legislative reforms and enforced rigorously to ensure the safety and protection of women.

[1] Headlines from various news reports over the years

[2] Pakistan Suicide Rate 2000-2021. Available at, https://www.macrotrends.net/countries/PAK/pakistan/suicide-rate

[3] Ibid

The post The Bride from Chitral – Huma’s Tragic Murder appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

Nazia (28) is a Sheedi woman, residing in Karachi, Sindh. She has an undergraduate degree and previously worked as a teacher in a local school in her area. She left her job and is now pursuing a course in filmmaking; something she believes can help her community come to the forefront. Nazia narrates her story as someone who did not have to face the same discrimination as other members of her community. “I don’t think my experience was bad, yes there were instances where I was made fun of because of my facial features, but it wasn’t too bad. I have grown into it; I think it has helped me embrace my identity even more,” she says.

Being of African descent, the Sheedi community have predominately Afro features, that to some are a source of culture shock while for others a source of humor. But it does not end here, instead, it transmutes into far more serious discriminatory practices.

“I was mocked when I was younger, in school, they would call me names and always try and touch my hair. It was a source of entertainment for them, all I could do was ignore them. I am not the only one, all of us [the Sheedi community] have no other option but to tolerate it,” she says.

The issue that lies at hand is that the Sheedi community is discriminated against based solely on prejudiced social standards. Living a reclusive life blighted by institutional prejudice, relying on daily hard labor for a living, the Sheedi remain outcasts in Pakistan after dwelling along the Arabian Ocean’s coasts for centuries. Many are compelled to live in ghetto towns, where the drug and weapons trade thrives, and possibilities for economic, social, and political advancement are shackled. This has enslaved the community in a cycle of poverty and ignorance, leading to shaming and branding as savages. Mocked, berated, and shamed, the Sheedi continue to live on in Pakistan; chained to a life of ostracism.

But Nazia quotes her experience differently, owing it largely to her father and the work he has done for the Sheedi community.

“My father, Muhammad Yaqoob, has dedicated his life to helping the members of his community; whether it be on social or political fronts. He has set up a small-scale, communal organization for the Sheedi members to record their concerns or grievances. I think his work is what has earned me my respect, people look at me differently because of my father,” she adds.

Nazia says that she earned people’s respect also because she was able to detach herself from her community’s stigmatized past. “People also respect me because I didn’t sit idly at home, I worked, I earned for myself, I got an undergraduate degree when there were not many even pursuing their education. I am treated differently because I chose to be different,” she says.

Nazia still finds the racial prejudice, even if it is not consistently happening to her, against the Sheedi as unacceptable. She says people need to understand that we have been here just as long as the others, why is acceptance still so hard? Nazia suggests that there needs to be a triangulation of stakeholders, that is the people, the government, and civil society organizations. First, she says, the people need to educate themselves regarding different minorities in Pakistan; each with a unique culture and history. Second, the government should bring the Sheedi community to the forefront by adopting a more inclusive and politically correct approach Legislative measures to cover the Sheedi community with the social protection net, including minority quotas specified for the community, which in cases is rendered useless or given away to more influential communities. Racial injustice, on an institutionalized level, also needs to be talked about on a political level- ensuring the progress of the Sheedi community alongside all others. Third, and lastly, CSOs must act as a bridge between the Sheedi members and all other institutions, leveraging their opinions and concerns to relevant stakeholders.

“Black is beautiful,” says Nazia, “and there should be no bias against it. We all are beautiful in our ways and all colors and features should be regarded as equals.”

The post Reclaiming Humanity – Nazia, A Sheedi Woman, Changing Attitudes Against Her Community appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

Born into a lower-caste Bheel Hindu family, in Amman Garh village, Rahim Yar Khan, Kumar had an uncanny sense of the challenges that lay ahead to be overcome. “Growing up, the financial hurdles in our family had a profound effect on me. My father was a trader but his business went through a severe downturn. Overnight our fortunes were reversed and we fell into debt,” he remarks. The chances of family survival had dimmed considerably. Fortunately, his uncle came to their rescue and extended financial support in those times of ordeal. The woes of being a minority continued to haunt him even after he was enrolled in a village school where he was treated differently from the rest of his classmates who were mostly Muslims.

Explaining his experience, he comments,

“You know to be a minority in this society is a crime. If you are a Bheel, no one wants to sit with you or mingle with you. I was considered untouchable. In school events that I would be invited to, I was expected to be conscious about my place. I was not allowed to touch utensils so acting like an onlooker I did not eat anything and returned back home.”

He remained in the village until he had passed middle school examinations. When he was admitted into a college in a city where he was not just bullied by others; it was also impossibly difficult to attend classes. The college was far from his village – due to transporting issues he was required to get up early at 5 am, find a seat on a bus, and return at 8 pm. Later, he did his Bachelor’s from the same college in Rahim Yar Khan.

“I completed my education despite all ordeals. I did not consider it an ‘accomplishment’ as many from my community were deprived of education. I thought my success is linked to the success of my community. The first thing that we need is education,” he adds.

Just as each person is shaped and formed by his experience, Kumar’s life was also marked by one such central event which organized many of the things that he does today. It was a seminar held by a local non-governmental organization on the rights of the minority. Leaving a deep impact on him, sparked in him an interest to engage in activism for bringing a change in his community. Already alert to the injustices meted out to his community as well other socio-economic issues that were contributing to the marginalization of Bheel families such as his, Kumar started writing stories and news items and sent these to various TV channels and newspapers.

Kumar says, “Earlier we used to invite journalists to cover our issues, but they would ignore it. So, I decided that I would write something myself and try to get it published. They were ignored initially, but eventually, I got my break as a journalist.”

In the beginning, Kumar’s family and friends discouraged him from pursuing journalism as they thought it would get him into trouble. The fears were not unreal or imagined – he once landed in a lock-up for refusing to kowtow to a local politician. To this day, he continues to work with zest to be an example for his community. Over the years, he has worked with local and international organizations to cover issues of minorities in South Punjab, particularly the Cholistan region. Along with his friend – also a journalist – he formed an association to spread awareness regarding the significance of education. He donates books, notebooks, and school uniforms to those from his community who are unable to afford them.

Kumar says, “I believe that all humans are equal – this is my philosophy of life. My message for my people is this: you should get an education. We need to struggle for our rights and that is the only way we can achieve equality with others.”

The post Achieving Equality in An Unequal World – Kumar’s Journey as An Agent of Social Change  appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

These are well-known and do not bear repetition. A widely shared belief in our society, for example, is that the presence of a PWD in a family is a sign of divine ‘curse’ and ‘punishment’. They are considered an unnecessary financial burden on households who go to great lengths to exclude them from the care and attention extended to other household members. Due to these negative perceptions and attitudes, most persons with physical disabilities find it hard to do well in life: they skip education altogether or go to poor-quality schools; they struggle to lend a respectable and well-paying job to support themselves financially. Most suffer from the psychological effects of not getting to socialize with mainstream society. In all, they do not get to have any life!

Naeem, born in Mansehra, a backward district in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, believed these are not reason enough to lose hope, resign to fate and stop living life to the fullest. Despite his physical disability, he has continued his quest for life and set an example for his people. Fighting against all odds, he was able to complete his university education and ended up founding an organization to protect persons with disabilities. Today, he is employed in Government Middle School in his district and is a ray of hope for many of his ilk.

“I remember a doctor telling my parents to get me out of school. He thought that I would not be able to do well in school and that it would affect my psychological and mental health,” Naeem adds.

At the outset, his prospects of living a normal and happy life seemed grim. He is the third of his six siblings – four brothers and two sisters. Two of his brothers were also physically handicapped. Growing up, Naeem says, there were no special schools for persons with disabilities in his district. Others in his extended family also discouraged his parents from enrolling him in school or spending on his education because they considered it a waste of time, money, and efforts.

His parents disagreed and had other plans – perhaps they could see potential in him. Naeem was fortunate enough to have been born into a well-off family which protected him from financial ordeals. His parents decided on giving their welfare and education. He was enrolled in a school and his siblings helped him learn the material at home. He explains, “I lost my vision, I could see but be barely able to read anything. Textbooks were impossible to read. I sat in classes, but it was difficult to read out what teachers would write on the blackboard. Back at home, my brothers made use of text magnification techniques, pen markers, etc., and taught me how to read. Sometimes, they would read out books for me.”

Naeem’s life changed when in the early 2000s he was introduced to one of his teachers – also suffering from vision impairment – from whom he learned the art of using the latest computer technology to get around learning obstacles. He convinced his parents to get him a computer and employed it to access learning materials in different formats. The computer proved significant in setting him free from his persistent dependence on his siblings. Eventually, Naeem went to a college and later passed M. Phil. in English from Hazara University. He applied for the post of in-charge in a local school and was able to lend the job.

Seeing the suffering of his ilk, Naeem and his brother decided to create an organization for working for the rights of people with vision impairment. For the past 11 years, Naeem has worked under the banner of Right to Live – an organization he now leads as a chairperson – to organize and advocate for the rights of persons. In doing so, he has worked with multiple government departments, including social welfare, and collaborated with NGOs. Through courage, fortitude, and persistent efforts he has taken up the mantle to help many like him who are suffering from sight disabilities.

“We work in the Hazara region, with a focus on vision impairment. We donate books and educational materials to those who cannot afford them. Our organization has worked with local government on reforming PWDs certification processes. We have lobbied with political parties to introduce PWD parliamentary quota in their manifesto. Apart from that, we extend financial help to children who have eye-impairment issues,” Naeem adds.

The struggle and experience of Naeem suggest that PWDs can play a crucial role in our society if necessary steps are taken to support them. Apart from social, legal, or moral arguments, an economic case can also be built for why it is high time that PWDs were mainstreamed. A genuine inclusive education and labor market, accompanied by changes in societal perceptions and attitudes, Naeem argues, is the way forward.

The post Transcending Physical Limitations – Naeem’s Fight for Mainstreaming PWDs appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

Sanam’s father was an Imam at the local mosque. She was a particularly bright student and had memorized the first ten chapters of the Holy Quran at a young age.  Her time at school was spent being bullied by other children because she was different, but she stuck around until the eighth grade when she had to leave the school because her father got paralysis.

She took it upon herself to support her family at that young age and started a clothing business. The circumstances did not seem to favor her because her father passed away soon after. Little did Sanam know that her life was going to take an even more drastic shift right after this huge loss. The attacks on her both emotional and physical by her brothers started increasing and became more regular. With no father figure to protect her any longer, her mother did try to deescalate the situation, however, she failed.

At 14, she realized she could no longer live in her family home. The one event that made her lose her bearings was when she was attacked by one of her brothers and she completely gave up and lay still on the floor. As Sanam narrates the event, “I was at home when my brother attacked me with a sharp stick. I had no idea what to do so I lay still on the ground ready to be brutally hit by my brother. My mother intervened timely. However, at that moment as I lay motionless on the ground I realized this was my last moment in this home.”

Sanam eventually moved out of her place because she also felt her existence could prove difficult for the marriage prospects of her sisters, whom she dearly loved and did not want to jeopardize their future. She kept her clothing business while the other transgenders helped her transition to her new life. An individual from the business community trusted her enough to loan her some money upon seeing her drive and commitment. It helped her grow her business, and to earn the extra cash she continued dancing at events with her friends.

While she was happily pursuing her life, tragedy hit again as she lost her mother. The dynamics at home had changed multifold now – while her sisters welcomed her with open arms, the brothers’ hatred had not subsided, so she went back as a mere stranger to attend the funeral and left. Tragedy ensued yet again when one of her sisters lost her husband, the other brothers abandoned her and so Sanam stepped in. At this point, she was supporting herself, her sister, and her children, along with other transgenders and people who needed her help. She was doing well financially and used this opportunity to serve others.

After becoming financially secure, she ventured further to extend her popularity in social circles. She helped mobilize a transgender cricket team and won against the men’s team thereby proving to the world that their gender did not mean they were weak or any less than others.

In 2011, the Supreme Court gave transgendered persons the right to vote. Sanam decided to go a step further and resolved to contest the elections instead of merely voting for a candidate. She did this to represent her community and was asked to step down when she stood for election in 2013. She ignored the amassing social pressure and despite financial and social setbacks, she prevailed. Among 48 candidates, she came in fourth and was able to garner 900 plus votes. Even though she was unable to win – she again proved to the world there is nothing that can hold her back, not her gender, not societal pressure.

Sanam’s story is a ray of hope for the transgender community as it lays the groundwork for a better future for them. At the moment she is working in a non-government organization for the right of her fellow transgender. Like many other transgender people in her community, she too was severely repressed by the circumstances around her, but she took it upon herself to prove to the world that she was not inferior to anyone just because of her gender, she too could compete with others even though a level playing field was absent. Her story does make one wonder why the world seems to hold transgender with much less regard. They are strong, capable, and equally, if not more, likely to succeed than any other gender. It is time we let go of our internally indoctrinated bias and move forward with a better and more inclusive mindset that makes us a partner and facilitator in their achievements, instead of a barrier.

The post Sanam Faqeer: Engendering Hope Among the Transgenders of Sukkur appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.

While transgenders throughout the country face abuse, assault, torture, are ridiculed and considered inferior owing to their gender – their vulnerability is far more pronounced in regions such as Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, where cultural and social norms dictate behavior protocols to a greater degree and are generally deemed more conservative/traditional. Transgenders in the country mostly rely on dancing, begging, and sex work to make their ends meet, all of which are considered taboo in society and therefore lay a path for their eventual harassment and mistreatment by most segments.

Killings among transgender in Pakistan is ever- increasing. According to the local group Trans Action, as many as 479 attacks against transgender women were reported in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa province in 2018. At least four transgender women were killed there in 2018, and at least 57 have been killed there since 2015.^[1] Recent years have seen a rising number of trans people being killed. Their stories of murders with impunity raise immense concerns regarding the safety of transgenders in our society. Nirma was one of those unfortunate souls who lost her life to a gruesome murder. The events of her death were narrated and later hacked to pieces. The details of this ruthless murder are enough to gauge the inhumanity with which she was murdered and the price she had to pay for a mere refusal.  Her murderer was caught red-handed by the police when he put the mutilated parts in a bag and was carrying it around late at night to dispose them of. The police saw the blood dripping and asked him to explain, to which he maintained he was a butcher and was carrying around meat. Since it was late at night, the police did not find his explanation plausible enough and tried to investigate further. Upon seeing the contents of the bag, they located a dismembered head and arrested him right away. Her family refused to take ownership of her and so her body parts had to be buried in a police graveyard.

Her story does not end with Nirma getting justice for her life, instead even account of being caught red-handed, the murderer evaded punishment because even though FIR was filed immediately, the other party had strong ties and was able to sway the judges. When it came to a settlement of the case, blood money was offered to the family of the deceased. It was at that moment they took ownership of her as their own and benefited from her death after refusing to even bury her initially. The murderer was acquitted based on that pardon later.

This portrays the extent to which even the families of these transgenders abhor being associated with them in their lifetime, but will selfishly jump to accepting reward as a means to forgive the perpetrators. The hatred by their family also highlights the suffering and harassment they face not just from society in general but also from their flesh and blood. No one can say for sure what the purpose behind that murder was, some call it an honor killing, others view it as collateral in a fit of rage – whatever the reason, a thorough investigation would have identified the cause. And in case it was indeed an honor killing, a clause classifying it as an honor crime would have barred the estranged family from walking away with the blood money. In 2016, the parliament abolished this right to curb these so-called honor killings subsequently letting families get away with murders in the name of “honor crimes”.

Instances such as Nirma’s inhumane killing where the murderer was caught initially and yet walks free highlight the callousness with which these cases are treated. A conclusive investigation that hands out a strict punishment would set a precedent for the transgender society and may deter the unwarranted killings of these individuals. This measure holds immense importance, especially in the current setting where the murders and attempted murders of transgenders, especially in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, are rising exorbitantly in numbers. Better scrutiny and immediate justice would help evade another transgender experiencing the same fate as that of the rather ill-fated Nirma.

[1] “World Report 2019: Rights Trends in Pakistan.” Human Rights Watch, 17 Jan. 2019, https://www.hrw.org/world-report/2019/country-chapters/pakistan.

The post Nirma’s Murder – A Transwoman Failed by the Justice System appeared first on Trust for Democratic Education and Accountability.