Meesha Shafi-Ali Zafar sexual harassment row shows Pakistan's #MeToo moment has miles to go

When you are a Pakistani woman, and that too a successful one, and you go public with an accusation of sexual harassment, and that too against the heartthrob of a nation — it is no joke. Twitter these days has become the courtroom of global confessions where crimes can be charged without trial. Crimes, that is, not criminals — for often it is the accuser and not the accused that bears the brunt of people’s wrath. Victim-blaming and survivor-shaming is nothing new in our part of the world. Or anywhere in the world for that matter. When it comes to shaming the survivors of sexual harassment or assault, the degree or intensity may vary but the mindset remains the same. ‘Her clothes were revealing, she had been drinking, why was she out at that hour, why did she not say no, why did she wait so long’… all of which leads to the attitude that ‘she was asking for it’. From language to reporting we have been conditioned to question victims of sexual harassment or assault as the initiators of the crime. Especially when the victims don’t fit the stereotypical portrayal of a person wronged. More often if a woman is empowered, career-oriented and can hold her own, most people reckon it would be hard for her to be the victim of sexual harassment and that she is doing it for attention or worse; revenge. While some people can’t even tell the difference between a woman who is independent minded and a woman who is promiscuous, they think nothing of passing judgement. Others who are more aware of the challenges modern urban women face in the work place, still seem to have a surprisingly judgmental attitude. Like a colleague recently said about the Ali Zafar-Meesha Shafi episode , ‘I just think it would be unlikely for such a woman to take sh*t from a man!’ Following the same train of thought, Pakistani film actress Resham recently said on a television show, ‘We deal with harassers every day and by now I should think we know very well how to shut them up when they are crossing the boundary.’ So then, does that mean sexual harassment no longer happens or only happens to meek and shy women who can’t stand up to men? [caption id=“attachment_4453803” align=“alignnone” width=“825”]  (L) Ali Zafar; (R) Meesha Shafi. File Photo[/caption] Unfortunately, we know from a recent column by lawyer Ayesha Raja that even empowered women lawyers like her at some point or the other face sexual harassment with the ‘nasty boys’ club’ turning a blind eye to it. Thanks to more and more women speaking out against this and thanks to social media providing an uncensored platform, the default setting is changing or at least being questioned. The #MeToo movement is just one example. When singer Meesha Shafi accused musician-actor Ali Zafar of sexual harassment, many called it the start of Pakistan’s #MeToo moment. In the aftermath of the allegations, what was shocking was not the backlash against Meesha (that was entirely expected) but how few people came out in support of Ali Zafar. The old boys’ club kicked in of course and there was the odd female friend, but where was the wider music industry, the acting community, the fans? It made one wonder if the Harvey Weinstein episode had now made people apprehensive — reserving their judgment in case the accusation did play true. But what if Ali Zafar is not guilty? The fact remains that his reputation has been tarnished whether or not he did harass Meesha. Twitter with its legacy of public shaming is the lawyer, judge and executioner all on its own terms. From Trump’s trumpeting tweets to Shafi’s accusation, Twitter is the court where you can pick and choose the evidence according to your own world view. Many in my immediate circle have chosen to punish the accused wholly on the basis that the accusation was made by a woman. Although I am a feminist, I find this disturbing. While it is great that women are increasingly voicing their trauma and calling out for justice — whether its through social media and #MeToo movements or through courts and tribunals — I believe that each case should be judged on its own merits and demerits. Each circumstance is different; each crime is different. The motivation for many to believe the accuser because ‘women don’t put their reputation on the line’ unless it really mattered, or because they have been the oppressed group for ages, seems unfair. And I don’t say this because I have been brainwashed by patriarchy or have been conditioned to believe that empowered women are more than capable of saying no, so cannot be victims. I say this because such beliefs tips the balance of power — and feminism and true social justice are about equality for all, irrespective of gender. We live in a heavily policed world. It is no longer dictators who define our parameters, but social media. Every moment is captured, tweeted, commented, liked or trolled in these Big Brother-times that we live in. Meesha Shafi and Ali Zafar, too, find themselves in a paradoxical world where pictures of the two as friends emerge even as contradictory voices tell a different story. More voices claiming more #MeToos against Zafar fill our feeds as Shafi gets trolled. At the same time as these invisible nameless binaries continue, the lack of condemnation as well as the lack of support by real voices makes me think that perhaps Pakistan’s #MeToo moment is still far away. In this place where we stand today, people are still afraid to say what they really want to — perhaps because they themselves are not sure of what is right and what is wrong. We stand at the precipice of modernity: a rapidly changing society, and one that is still trying to make up its mind. There is great diversity in our land. There are urban pockets in Pakistan where women drive, dress as they like, work in male-dominated fields and are financially independent while there are also places within these same pockets where highly empowered women willingly embrace the hijab and advocate an orthodox Islamic lifestyle. We are a muddled nation and one where Meesha Shafi’s profile does not fit that of a victim of sexual harassment and one where Ali Zafar’s ‘hero image’ does not allow him to be a villainous harasser. So where does that leave us? Do we side with the woman or do we side with the hero? We side with the truth. And what is the truth is the big question — one that needs to be investigated without preconceived notions. Sabyn Javeri is the author of the novel ‘Nobody Killed Her’ and an Assistant Professor of Literature and Writing Studies at Habib University, Karachi. Her new book ‘Hijabistan’ is out soon.