‘We still had reservations about the work we did. Does this movement resonate with people....'

Name: Zoya Rehman

Age: 33 years old

Place of residence: Islamabad

Occupation: Feminist researcher, writer and organizer

‘My name has a Russian origin and it means ‘life’. My parents however insisted on giving it religious undertones’ Zoya tells me when I ask her about her name.

Zoya however has also lived as ‘Mehrunissa’ for three years of her life. This was around the time she turned seven. And while this insignificant piece of information was conveyed to me in just over ten seconds – I kept thinking about it for a much longer time.

Names are an incredibly important part of one’s identity. And having to change a part of yourself for the world to compensate for its shortcomings must have been difficult. ‘Zoya Rehman’ I could see written on the bottom left of zoom, through which we were communicating. With her background blurred, Zoya stood out as she began to speak.

“‘Unstable’ is how I would describe my childhood’. By the time she was seven years old, it became evident that her father was involved in fraudulent activities as a result of which she along with her father, mother and brother, three years younger than her, went into hiding. It was during this time that their family moved to Peshawar, and her name was changed. ‘We were staying at different people’s homes, I also remember staying at an orphanage once’, Zoya recalls. Her father was later caught and went to jail while her mother moved in with her maternal grandparents. Zoya’s parents eventually got divorced.

Zoya’s mother married again but that also resulted in a divorce. Being a single mother now meant that she had to work and sustain her children in an economy that rarely ever sided with women. But it was not just the economy; the dynamic of Zoya’s relationship with her mother rested on a multitude of decisions and circumstances that she accepts truthfully. And does not glorify relationships which don’t need to be. ‘My mother was my world when I was younger, but then my bubble burst when she got abusive towards me. When you put your parents on a pedestal, you will eventually have a rude awakening. I was very skeptical of her life decisions, even though she managed to survive in this country and so I have immense respect for her. But I think she could have done better’.

‘How is your relationship with her now?’ I asked.

‘It’s better, she is obviously not the same person anymore. She loves me in her own way. Most of the times I can make peace with it, sometimes I cannot’.

Zoya navigated a chaotic life, left for her masters in gender studies to London on a Chevening Scholarship, and then later came back and relocated to Islamabad. This is where she joined the Women’s Democratic Front, began her journey as a feminist organizer and also met her partner. I was curious about her work, not just in terms of what she did, but how she started. I was looking for that ‘one’ pivotal moment. Turns out, there is no pivot. ‘My experiences as a working woman, being out in the world, receiving different treatment wherever I went - raised my feminist consciousness’ Zoya told me. And so I figured out that as a woman in Pakistan you inherit acts of injustices towards you if you do dare to place yourselves in places held by men. Some people choose to look the other away and that is a legit decision. But Zoya decided to look straight at it.

Zoya appears to be rebellious – in a place where an act of feminist organizing is indeed an act of rebelling. Against certain hierarchies, orders and institutions. It is also simultaneously dangerous. During the aurat march that took place in Islamabad in 2020, shoes and stones were pelted at the marchers, blasphemy charges were also put up against them the next year. ‘We left the place feeling defeated’ is how Zoya described it to me.

‘But would you describe yourself as a rebellious child?’

‘Yes, I became more rebellious at the age of 12/13 when my mother became more abusive. I think it was partly doable for me because the patriarch in my house was a woman, and I would say in hindsight that not having a man in my life made my struggle easier – my mom could beat me up but the interpersonal violence between women is very different from how men direct violence towards women’. Zoya was right about these last few words. After the incident at the Aurat Azadi march 2020, a burqa-clad man was arrested from the venue. It was surprisingly clear that the elaborate disinformation campaign which followed the next year (2021) along with the directed physical violence was indeed spearheaded by mostly men, if not all.

The work that Zoya does alongside her comrades, is important but also extensive in terms of the emotional and physical toll it takes. ‘Kabhi khushi kabhi gham’ is what it is, I was told. This year, feminist organizers from the Women’s Democratic Front in Islamabad held a jalsa. When I asked Zoya about how the jalsa came into being in place of a march, she reiterated certain questions that Islamabadi organizers were asking themselves after the security threat they faced back in 2020: ‘We put our lives at risk for this one event but is this all there is to the movement? What kind of movement do we wish to be seeing built? Yes, the movement is larger but is it large enough?’ She went on to explain, ‘We still had reservations about the work we did. Does this movement resonate with people who are suffering on a daily basis? We owe responsibility to the people whose interest we claim to be serving’. And this is how the idea of Jalsa found its ground in Islamabad and was successfully executed. Organizers went into communities to talk about their struggles, hopes and the prospects of ‘A city for all’. Zoya believes that it is imperative for feminists to have conversations with communities they wish to work with. “If ‘mera jism meri marzi’ doesn’t resonate with them, then have you asked them, what does?”

The jalsa was held for the first time this year, since the inception of aurat azadi march in 2018 and it seems to be signifying an important point in the progression of the Feminist movement in Pakistan. The organizers believed that this was a step that they needed to take for the movement and its notion on inclusivity. However, a march was also simultaneously organized by feminists; and the execution of two events in one city sheds light on the fragmentation that is present within the Feminist movement today. This is also a much-loved argument that is often presented by naysayers to critique the movement. When I asked Zoya if we can ever have a unified movement? Zoya responded immediately without any hesitation: ‘I think fragmentation is a great thing, although people disagree. Feminism is an umbrella term, and we should not encourage silence under the guise of unity but we should build solidarities. We can build solidarities’. Even if people organize separately, they should be able to come together against injustice. From Zoya’s perspective there is no flag-bearer to the movement. And I agreed, we are the movement, not just a part of it.

‘But is the presence of a movement enough to bring out substantial change in legislation?’ I asked.

‘I have a law degree but I am very skeptical about legal reforms bringing a change. Where do we see justice actually being granted? I don’t think law is the answer. Mass movement is’. Zoya also pointed out that for us to be able to make strides, we need to view feminism not just through the lens of gender, but also class.

I talked to Zoya a few weeks after the Aurat Azadi jalsa had taken place on 6th of March. The day following the jalsa were tough for her, as much as they were for the other organizers. An event that is not just huge in its numbers but also in its presence. An event that has faced security threats in the past and continues to traverse a series of allegations is a difficult one to organize. Subsequently as a result of which, many organizers are burnt-out. What we see is a show of solidarity on the day that we choose to attend the Aurat Azadi jalsa. What is often not visible is the work that is taking place all-year round. I could see Zoya through the zoom screen, now a little blurry due to the fainting internet connection, and bring to life the picture of a person who is working for a movement that hopes to bring about a feminist revolution. People who seem to be creating ripples with their work have lived lives that are mundane – just like the most of us. They just choose to do better. Do more.

As soon as I decided to chant my appreciation for Zoya and her extra-ordinary work, she very swiftly clarified that ‘We need to stop thinking of ourselves as girl bosses or heroes or leaders but only as workers of the movement’. And that made me hold onto my words a little longer.

And thus my biggest takeaway from this conversation were her last few words, ‘The movement does not revolve around you, (as an organizer) the more invisible you are, the better.’