Burning Bras in Islamabad

Last night, at a gathering amongst coworkers, fellow NGO workers and friends, I found myself questioning what politically correct really means and its relevance to each of us. Among a diverse group of people from all backgrounds, there is no hard and fast rule as to what is right and wrong to say or not say; but rather we simply draw our own lines. Of course, the room is filled with men, and most nearly twice my age. As the drinks flow freely and the company gets friendlier, so goes the conversation. I am surprised at the way in which they react to me, as a young woman. Most things that were asked, said or commented on, would not be applicable to others in the room. “What do your parents think of you being here”, it innocently starts with, and as the night goes on it turns to “So that’s the woman’s perspective” and “I think 5% of the staff of women is ok” and even commenting on my looks as a qualification for the job. Of course, I am not innocent either; I throw out a few republican jokes and a red coat reference. Don’t get me wrong, I very much enjoy the people I work with, they are all well intentioned and, well, working in a war zone, which can really change things. As an outsider, it would be hard to see and feel the effects of being a woman in a suppressed culture unless you are looking for it, and really want to see it. They have mocked and said that it is the feminist coming out, and I can go burn my bra; but the consequences are real, they are emotional and heartbreaking, they are political and tragic, they are the problems of today and it is not something I can sit back and watch. In the office, it is easy to find the line of professionalism and what to accept. Should I not then draw the same line in social settings? It isn’t as easy as it sounds, and I find myself laughing it off, as I know no harm is indented. Does that make it ok? Reading the morning paper, I found that the women members of Parliament here in Pakistan are requesting a 50% quota for female members. I doubt that it will ever pass, but the fact that it can even be discussed is progress. Interestingly, the same article mentioned that the women “held their own” during the budget process, and had done research and responded when necessary. Funny, as some male members of parliament didn’t do a damn thing and no one said a word, yet, the paper needed to comment that yes, indeed, the women are doing their job. I suppose it is more than nothing, I just found it a bit heartbreaking. And of course, the women’s article made it on the 5th page of the lifestyle section, because it isn’t ‘real’ media. As you can tell things are complicated here. Life is good and some days better than others. I work a lot. A lot. Its hard working with a new group of people, trying to learn their style, read their minds, get what they are looking for. It’s also hard to not have any outlets. I usually get home around 8:30pm and crash, maybe have dinner and work out. I’ve met a few people, but the working conditions aren’t conducive to being social, nor is the security situation. I’m realizing how much I have taken my ‘outlets’ for granted. Everything from walking my dog, to venting on the phone, to chatting with my roomies, to chipotle, to happy hour. Here, there is no booze, I eat the same thing every day, my phone is an old school nokia which I can hardly work and I can’t really leave my hotel or the compound. My outlet is the gym, trashy BBC tv and a book when I’m not too tired. I find solace in hope that I am helping make a difference, in some way. I find peace in the never ending questions and the people who continue to search for answers.