Yet She Persists: The Strength and Struggle of Women in Pakistan

It starts small. A girl is told to be quiet while her brother is encouraged to speak up. A mother endures in silence; a father rules without question. A village elder says, “This is just how it is.”

And so, it continues.

In Pakistan, women make up nearly 50% of the population, over 120 million lives shaped by deeply rooted systems of power and control. And yet, in 2024, Pakistan ranked second to last out of 146 countries on the Global Gender Gap Index. This isn’t just a number; it reflects the silent and visible battles women face every day, especially when it comes to health, autonomy, and survival.

Despite their resilience, the state of women’s health, education, and empowerment in Pakistan remains in jeopardy.  What affects women ultimately affects the entire nation, yet society continues to overlook their most basic needs.

In Pakistan, a woman’s health is governed not just by biology but by tradition, silence, and systemic neglect. Her well-being is often at the mercy of decisions made by others: family members, societal norms, religious interpretations, with little room for her own voice.

Picture a woman in rural Punjab, hesitant to seek help during a complicated pregnancy. There’s a clinic nearby, but no female doctor, and seeing a male one would violate the cultural code of modesty. So, she waits. Her pain is dismissed, her concerns silenced. By the time help is sought, it’s too late.

This isn’t an isolated story. Across the country, access to reproductive care is scarce, especially where it’s needed most. Female medical professionals are few and far between, largely because girls are still discouraged from pursuing education, let alone medicine. And cultural restrictions often prevent women from being examined by male doctors.

Women’s health challenges are not only physical: they are emotional and psychological, and they run deep. Depression often begins during pregnancy or shortly after childbirth. Yet despite its prevalence, maternal mental health is rarely addressed. Perinatal depression affects a startling number of new mothers: nearly 1 in every 4,  but it is almost always left untreated, dismissed as simple irritability or weakness.

And in homes across the country, pregnancy itself is not always a moment of joy. When a woman is found to be carrying a female fetus, her nourishment may be reduced, her emotional well-being neglected, and in some cases, she may be pressured into terminating the pregnancy altogether. A son’s birth is celebrated, while a daughter’s can become a silent tragedy. In some households, the birth of a child is valued more than the life of the woman giving birth. Her body becomes a battleground for someone else's legacy.

These aren’t just medical issues, they’re reflections of how society views a woman’s worth. Her body is not her own. Her pain is rarely prioritized. Her silence is expected.

But a nation’s health depends on its women. When women are supported, educated, and healthy, they raise stronger children, build more resilient families, and contribute meaningfully to society.

Yet, we continue to fail her, not because we lack the solutions, but because we refuse to make space for her voice.

While education is often described as the great equalizer, for many girls in Pakistan, it remains a distant dream. In too many communities, a girl’s worth is still measured by how soon she can marry, not how far she can go. Her schooling is interrupted by early marriage, safety concerns, or the belief that investing in her education is simply not worth it.

Image courtesy: Malala Fund

However,  the impact of that missing education is lifelong. An educated woman is more likely to use healthcare, understand her rights, use family planning, and raise healthier children. But when girls are kept from learning, even about their own bodies, they grow up ashamed of natural changes, unaware of their rights, and unequipped to protect themselves.

The fear is often disguised as protection. Families keep daughters inside “for their safety,” deny them grooming or self-expression “in case men get the wrong idea,” and control every choice: from what they wear to whom they marry. The irony is brutal: to protect girls from a violent world, they’re locked away from the real one.

But even within the home, safety is never guaranteed.

In Pakistan, many women are taught that silence is survival. Challenging a decision, expressing a desire, or standing up for oneself can trigger swift punishment: emotional, verbal, physical, or sexual. From slaps to threats of divorce, from humiliation to outright abuse, violence is used to discipline and dominate. Girls are groomed to be obedient, not opinionated. They are praised for endurance, not expression. And in cases where they dare to push back or demand autonomy, they are often met with force, justified by tradition.

What makes it worse is how normal it all feels. The belief that men are naturally better decision-makers simply because they’re stronger, louder, or older has been passed down for generations. It has long been disguised as tradition, when in truth, it is tyranny.

And this is not just about individual homes. It’s a mindset embedded in our families, our institutions, our system: where women are raised to endure, and men are rarely taught to stop. And when violence is normalized, it becomes invisible. It becomes tradition.

But no tradition that costs women their safety, dignity, or lives should survive unquestioned.

When girls are taught from an early age to stay quiet, to not ask questions, to accept pain as part of being a woman, they stop expecting better. And that’s exactly how the cycle survives.

But it doesn’t have to.

Real change begins not just with laws, but with truth-telling. It begins with classrooms that teach girls they matter, with clinics where women are seen, heard, and treated with respect, and with homes that raise boys to respect rather than dominate, and girls to lead without apology. It means calling out abuse even when it’s cloaked in the language of culture or faith. It means shifting not only policies but power. And it means understanding that a fairer, healthier Pakistan can only exist when women no longer have to fight simply to survive.

And make no mistake, they are fighting. In villages and in cities, in classrooms, clinics, on social media, and behind closed doors. They are pushing back, not for permission, not for pity but for the basic right to exist with dignity and to live freely.

The truth is, women aren’t asking for power. They’re demanding to exist fully, safely, and equally.

And they’re not waiting anymore!

---

For further reading and references, see the list below:

• Mahmood, K., & Farooq, H. (Year). Health status of women in Pakistan: A research study from Saidpur village of Federal Capital Area of Islamabad, Pakistan. Department of Pakistan Studies, Allama Iqbal Open University.

• PODA. Women's Health. (Potohar Organization for Development Advocacy)

• Qureshi, N., & Shaikh, B. T. Women’s empowerment and health: The role of institutions of power in Pakistan. Aga Khan University.

• Rizvi, N., Khan, K. S., & Shaikh, B. T. Gender: Shaping personality, lives and health of women in Pakistan. [BMC Women's Health)

• UN Women. (2023). National report on the status of women in Pakistan, 2023: A summary.

• Cover Photo Credit: Maliha Abidi