Title: Aurat March: Gender Literacy

Dateline: 1st March, 2023 | Islamabad, Pakistan

When I first saw the form expressing interest in helping with the annual Women’s March in Pakistan, I immediately wondered: how many women in Pakistan truly understand terms like “non-binary” or “cis woman”? Who is Aurat March attempting to reach with this quiz in a country where female literacy rates are below 50%? Rather than being inclusive, these gender options risk discouraging many Pakistani women from participating, effectively removing the aurat from Aurat March. Perhaps, though, that was the intention.

For the sixth consecutive year, Aurat Marches are scheduled across Pakistan on March 8, International Women’s Day. Since its debut in 2018, the movement has been subject to intense criticism, particularly over slogans like “Mera Jism, Meri Marzi” (“My body, my choice”), which provoked public outcry and led to accusations that the event was un-Islamic. The Aurat March and its ideology are frequently labeled as “foreign-funded” and accused of advancing Western interests. Critics also contend that the organization represents only the concerns of the urban, upper-middle-class elite, ignoring the struggles of millions of working- and middle-class Pakistani women who face poverty, illiteracy, and domestic abuse. Aurat March, however, maintains that these claims are false and intended to undermine the movement.

The accusation of being “foreign-funded” carries some weight, though it oversimplifies the issue. Aurat March and its affiliated organizations, such as the Women’s Freedom March, are largely composed of women with Western education, predominantly from upper- and middle-class backgrounds. Many of these activists studied political science, gender studies, or South Asian studies at universities in the US or UK. These “resistance feminists,” often beneficiaries of Fulbright and Rhodes scholarships, bring anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist frameworks from the West into Pakistan. It is unsurprising that topics such as trans rights, a central debate in American schools, feature prominently in Aurat March messaging, framed in critical theory and intersectional jargon.

Yet, instead of tailoring their message to reach the majority of Pakistan’s 220 million citizens in a language they can comprehend, the organizers focus disproportionately on defending the rights of a community that constitutes just 0.24% of the population. Ammara Maqsood argues in her 2017 book The New Pakistani Middle Class that, since the 1990s, “progress” in Pakistan has often been measured by connections to the outside world. According to Maqsood, Pakistanis do not perceive themselves as modern unless an “imagined audience” abroad recognizes them as such. Elite Pakistani feminists, therefore, are often more concerned with international perceptions than with local resonance.

In the eyes of Pakistan’s conservative society, trans women are widely considered female. And yet, given the positive coverage Aurat March receives from Western media, portraying Pakistani feminists as heroic figures risking their lives, it seems this international strategy is achieving its goal. But the question remains: Who are “they”?

Aurat March identifies “they” as “radical, right-wing Islamists.” In reality, “they” are often the millions of Pakistani women who have attained middle-class status since the 1990s and reject the idea that Pakistan’s modernity must mirror Western models. These women advocate for forms of Islamic feminism, seeking empowerment within their religious and cultural frameworks rather than through Western paradigms.

The tension between local realities and global ideals continues to define Aurat March. While the movement has raised important conversations about gender, its struggle to resonate with Pakistan’s majority population highlights the broader challenge of aligning elite activism with grassroots needs.

Byline: Michelle Zeah, Islamabad Correspondent