#3: the utility of protest politics in feminism

Solely focusing on political demonstrations such as protests as the be-all and end-all of political movements is akin to reading only the bullet points of longer, more complex stories.

Feminist protests have been the subject of much debate in Pakistan these past few years, primarily because of the Aurat (Azadi) March that has been taking place in the country’s major cities annually since 2018. Pakistani feminists, including women, non-binary folks, and progressive men, have been coming out on the streets in large numbers on March 8th to demand an end to all forms of oppression. This uprising has provided much inspiration for the country’s contemporary feminist movement, and given catharsis to feminists who have joined these symbolic demonstrations to decry gender-based violence, anti-authoritarianism, surveillance, gender-based violence, transmisogyny, class injustice and austerity, and so much more.

This catharsis, though, is short-lived, for those of us who live with the fear and trauma of violence on a day-to-day basis. It is also costly for the feminist organisers who are left at the behest of a vitriolic, misogynistic backlash, and the burnout that follows these demonstrations every year; be it in the form of the stones that are pelted on us, or through false allegations of blasphemy leveled at us. 

Protests have been held for numerous political reasons in Pakistan. We have seen mainstream political parties organise large demonstrations in the form of jalsas. We also have a rich history of leftist resistance, with protests helmed by students, farmers and rural women, factory and health workers, khwaja siras, ethnic movements, and various other dissidents. But there is always an ongoing struggle that culminates in a protest: a before, and after. Protests testify to processes that are less demonstrative but that require time, patience, care, and collective efforts that eventually animate and inspire them. Solely focusing on political demonstrations such as protests as the be-all and end-all of political movements is akin to reading only the bullet points of longer, more complex stories. The most important question for me, then, is, what feminist participants would do if the Aurat (Azadi) March did not exist. What is the feminist movement beyond its anniversary commemoration?

Feminist protests raise many interesting questions about the overall character of the on-ground movement and who all has an actual stake in it. Is it all those protestors who show up once a year and then go home? Is it the organisers who “call the shots” and then also deal with the repercussions of what they organise later on? Is it the most oppressed and economically precarious people in our society who bear the brunt of unstable political circumstances? Is it the outliers who do invisible work to build our movements but are barely to be seen, let alone credited, in the public eye? 

There is no denying that protests highlight important struggles against oppression. Feminist protests are no different; the March 8th protests are rooted in progressive tradition. International Working Women’s Day began as a protest organised by anti-capitalist socialists and suffragettes. The idea of a dedicated day for working women was highlighted at an International Socialist Women’s Conference. Millions of people protested at hundreds of sites across Europe to honour this day in 1911. On March 8th, 1917, women in Russia went on strike for “Bread and Peace”, thereby kicking off the communist revolution. 

However, numbers do eventually decrease if we keep employing the same political strategies over and over. Moreover, the backlash against feminists keeps getting worse by the year, and ends up depleting the energies of organisers behind the Aurat (Azadi) March. Instead of organising year-round, feminist organisers are involved in constant firefighting and the ensuing exhaustion, whilst countering elaborate disinformation campaigns and sensationalised media coverage. At the end of the day, there are too few of us organising, and yet many, many naysayers we have to fight. This offers a moment for us as feminists to reflect on important political conversations regarding the ultimate objective of our resistance.

Feminist marches have most certainly started important conversations, but when we think of protests in relation to political goals, we have to simultaneously consider putting in labour in the service of sustained change that is not performative. The protest we organise has to lead to a sustained commitment to comradery and knowledge on-ground. Our feminism must include the time for self-reflection, healing and learning.

Another problem is that most urban feminist organisers behind the Aurat (Azadi) March have a very transactional relationship with the proletariat. We only organise with working class communities right before the march for the sole purpose of inviting them to it, instead of building solidarities with them year-round. Working class women, including khwaja siras, are transported from their abadis to protest spaces to provide a ‘representative’ and ‘diverse’ audience for March 8th before they are sent back to their homes, where they live under the shadow of economic and patriarchal precarity. The feminist movement will continue to be narrow, static and self-serving if its middle class character remains the same in the years to come. We must continuously question the movement’s direction and vision, particularly the overrepresentation of upper middle class heteronormative women on March 8th, in order to enter a new vibrant phase of feminist organising. 

Protests matter not by themselves, but in combination with a broad range of other purposeful political actions. This is not to say that the International Working Women’s Day marches, regardless of where they happen, are failures or wasted efforts; far from it! However, sustaining movements and bringing about political changes is time-consuming work. Similarly, feminist organising is more complicated and taxing than what one witnesses at an annual protest. 

So, then, how should we organise? By having important but thorny discussions, by self-reflecting, by producing knowledge online and off, by fighting disinformation, by writing manifestos, by having conversations with fellow comrades, by defying what is expected of us and our gendered bodies, by calling for accountability, care, creativity and solidarity in the communities and spaces we inhabit, and by taking to the streets. The world is our oyster; all we have to do is be open to new forms of feminist struggles and strategies, and welcome invention, imagination and flexibility into our lives with open arms; something that many feminist organisers across the country are already doing. 

Yes, it is unfortunate that a very large and aggressive right-wing contingent is at our throats, led by angry religious hardliners and jingoistic incel armies. More grave challenges await us in the future. Even then, we must be determined in our resistance against the structures of patriarchy, capitalism, neocolonialism, and bigotry that are deeply entrenched in our respective countries. In order to show feminist solidarity, we must globally focus on the demands of the oppressed, and stand with them in their fight against injustice of all sorts. And instead of focusing too much on those who belittle us in our struggle, we must focus on our own work, our own hopes, and our own feminist ideals.

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This piece was commissioned by Studio ATAO. The published version of the op-ed can be read if you subscribe to their newsletter.