Empowerment in Pakistan: Women reclaim work, worth and voice

Khaleej Times

a day ago

On a cloud-swept morning in the upper reaches of the Karakoram, the rhythmic tap of chisels against wood rings out across a modest workshop. Inside, surrounded by planks of walnut and mulberry, a group of women methodically carves custom furniture. One of them, Bibi Amina, barely looks up as she guides her students through the finer points of joint-making.
'This work used to be unthinkable for someone like me,' she says, brushing sawdust off her sleeves. 'Now it's our livelihood and our statement.'
Amina isn't a celebrity or activist. She's a carpenter, business owner, and mentor based in the Hunza Valley, a mountainous pocket of northern Pakistan where women are increasingly reshaping their roles in society. It's not a movement driven by slogans or hashtags but by grit, education, and necessity.
As Pakistan marks its independence, the stories unfolding in the valleys and plains offer a compelling footnote to the national narrative; one where women, long excluded from formal labour and leadership, are quietly writing a new script of self-reliance and purpose.
From Punjab to the cosmos
From the quiet city of Mandi Bahauddin in Punjab, another boundary is being broken, this time, far beyond the atmosphere. Ayesha Habib has become the first Pakistani selected for the prestigious Space Studies Program 2025 by the International Space University. Set to take place in South Korea, the programme brings together top minds in engineering, space science, and policy from across the globe. Ayesha's achievement not only marks a personal milestone but also signals Pakistan's growing presence in global scientific discourse, a reminder that even from the most unassuming corners of the country, women are reaching for the stars.
Not just helping hands, but heads of households
Amina's workshop, which she established in 2008, now trains women from surrounding villages in skills ranging from carpentry to project management. The orders come in steady, from hotels, NGOs, and even local government offices. But for Amina, the real impact is visible in smaller, more intimate ways.
'Some of the girls here never thought they'd earn their own money,' she says. 'Now they're contributing to their homes, buying school supplies for their siblings, and saving for the future.'
Across the region, the shift is visible. Once limited to seasonal agricultural work or domestic chores, women in Hunza and surrounding areas are taking ownership of businesses, running cafés, managing farms and even commanding football teams. The evolution has been gradual but firm, rooted in something that sets this region apart: literacy.
'We grew up knowing how to read, how to think for ourselves,' says cafe-owner Lal Shehzadi, who opened a roadside restaurant nearly two decades ago. 'My daughter works with me now and she's already thinking of launching a bakery.'
Her restaurant, perched on a hilltop overlooking the valley is modest, plastic tables with handwritten menus, but it buzzes with life, especially in the evenings. Shehzadi says the café now employs 11 people, most of them women. 'This little place gave me freedom,' she smiles. 'And I wanted others to taste that too.'
From mountains to markets: Reclaiming economic space
In nearby towns, other women are launching ventures with equally bold intent. Safina, once a low-paid employee at a local shop, decided to quit her job a decade ago and start her own eatery. With little financial backing, she persuaded her family to sell two cows to fund her startup.
'I just needed one chance,' Safina says while talking to local media. 'Now I'm making more than fifteen times what I earned before and I'm my own boss.'
What unites these stories is not only courage, but pragmatism. The region's small landholdings and harsh winters have long forced communities to adapt creatively to survive. As men migrated seasonally for work, women gradually stepped into roles that blurred traditional gender boundaries.
But the change wasn't just economic, it was educational and cultural. Much of the valley follows the Ismaili branch of Shiite Islam, where female education has historically been prioritised. Community investments in schooling, dating back to a girls' school established in the 1940s, have led to gender parity in literacy that far exceeds the national average.
As Sultan Madan, head of the Karakoram Area Development Organisation, puts it: 'The seeds were planted long ago. Now we're watching the garden grow.'
When the pitch becomes a platform
Perhaps nowhere is the valley's shift more visible or audible than on its sports fields. In villages like Passu, Gulmit and Gojal, the unmistakable sound of football boots pounding against turf echoes across the hills.
'Every village has a women's team now,' says Nadia Shams, 17, a midfielder who trains in shorts and joggers. 'And we're not playing for fun. We're playing to win.'
On a warm July afternoon, Nadia and her teammates drill formations under the guidance of Fahima Qayyum, a local hero who's represented Pakistan in international tournaments.
'Playing football gave me confidence I didn't know I had,' Qayyum says. 'Now I tell the girls that if you can face a stadium, you can face anything.'
Her dream is to create a formal league system and tap into scholarships for players who show promise. 'Sport can change lives, not just through medals, but by building identity and resilience,' she says.
South to Nushki: Stories from the sand
The momentum isn't limited to the mountains. In the arid expanses of Balochistan, another quiet trailblazer is writing new narratives, literally. Alishba Khan Barech, a 23-year-old novelist from Nushki, recently became the first Pakistani to win the 'Young Woman of the Year' award at the Women Changing the World Awards in London.
'I didn't think my stories would leave my town, let alone reach a global stage,' says Barech. 'But the response proved that people are hungry for different perspectives from Pakistan, not just the headlines, but the hope.'
Barech's work, often rooted in the everyday challenges of Baloch women, has been widely praised for its emotional clarity and social depth. She says her next project will focus on climate resilience among rural girls, a subject close to her heart.
Fields of change in Punjab
Back in the heartland of Punjab, Sahar Iqbal is leading one of the country's most surprising agricultural success stories and it's run almost entirely by women.
Her potato and maize farm, based near Okara, employs over 250 women and focuses on sustainable, water-smart agriculture. 'We started on land everyone had given up on,' Sahar says, speaking to Khaleej Times. 'Now we're not just feeding our families, we're feeding the market.'
The initiative offers better-than-average wages and formal training in climate-resilient practices. 'We've created our own SOPs because nothing existed for women-led farming,' Sahar adds. 'Now, the community looks to us for guidance.'
A different kind of independence
In a country where only 23 per cent of women are part of the formal workforce, these stories may seem exceptional but they're gaining ground. And they point to a deeper truth: that freedom isn't just a matter of sovereignty, but of agency.
These women working as carpenters, cooks, coaches, writers, and farmers are redefining what it means to be independent in Pakistan.
Not with declarations, but with daily decisions. Not with protests, but with perseverance. And not always with recognition, but always with resolve.