Beyond the male gaze
“Everything that men have written about women should be viewed with suspicion because they are both judge and party.” – Poulain de la Barre.
I am a girl, I am a woman, and I am a feminist. Declaring and owning this evokes saraband of images and remains an act of Promethean audacity- a defiant theft of the Olympian fire from the patriarchal pantheon. Feminism still grapples with cultural and social misrepresentation, frequently resisted and dismissed as adversarial. In societies steeped in patriarchal traditions, this resistance emanates from the entrenched power structures, placing women in stereotypes and narratives traditionally shaped by men.
The Aurat March backlash stemmed not from the issues it raised or how it challenged the patriarchal framework and how it dared to foreground women and unapologetically reclaim the space for them. The misogynistic tropes—such as “the women are their worst enemies,” are perpetuated by a male-dominated structure that conditions women to oppose their gender. By aligning with narratives, the women inadvertently draw a semblance of power much like a moon derives light from the sun.
Public figures like Andrew Tate globally and his archetype in Pakistan, Khalil ur Rehman Qamar are celebrated and enjoy wide subscriptions among men but also women. This troubling reality highlights a myopic and superficial understanding of feminism, often reduced to clichés and misconstrued as antagonistic to men. The rise of the clickbait culture of today has intensified this distortion, with viral videos and content portraying women as meek, buttressing these damaging stereotypes.
Adding to this cultural malaise are popular soaps. Recently there was a recognized Pakistani drama serial Noor Jahan with shining TRPs and a sprawling run of over 30 episodes. Praised for its grandeur production and dramatic intrigue, the narrative revolved around a mother being obsessively protective over her sons, turning the lives of her three sons upside down. Though not a novel theme, the story critiques her possessiveness, it does leave the deeply problematic actions of the middle son unexamined. His erratic behaviour—marrying, remarrying, prioritizing financial ease above commitment, and abandoning women with impunity, is normalized. His leaving destruction in his wake goes unattended while the controlling tendencies of the mother become the pivotal tragedy. This imbalance reflects a broader societal tendency where the female stories are framed from a male lens. As Simon de Beauvoir noted in Second Sex, “Humanity is male, man defines woman, not in herself but to himself.” Such are the narratives that portray and blame women as the root of familial discord and her suffering as her creation, not any infliction.
While on the other side, as Tehmina Durrani’s My Feudal Lord endures through time as the darkly exotic, black-clad enigmatic figure, with a gypsy allure, and rugged charm, a domineering lover who steers hearts, a heartbreaker and a tyrant who demands love without heeding to his oppressive dynamics of forced affection is still glorified as an epitome of enchanting and alluring fantasy.
This cinematic voyeurism reinforces a ‘societal gaze’ that subjugates women. Laura Mulvey’s concept of the “male gaze,” elucidates how women are positioned as objects of male desire in the visual and narrative elements of the cinematic universe. Similarly, dramas and cultural narratives craft a particular ‘gaze’ at women; a type of ‘looking’ that draws the audience into an unconscious participation. Unaware of its reach and effect, this ‘looking’ and gazing strengthens the patriarchal stereotypes and structures.
Arifa Noor recently, with a stride, wove the saga of Mustafa Zaidi’s murder and Gul who echoes muted cries of Gul, in The Society Girl, that it is the ‘sinful’ woman who is to be blamed for the affair. Despite the choices made by both parties, societal condemnation shines unrelentingly on women. These twisted perceptions trap women in narrow holes, reducing them homewreckers, gold diggers, and incapable of nurturing ‘sincere friendships.’ These biases shape the societal perception of women as adversarial to their gender and morally suspect.
Women are invisible in their stories, overshadowed by societal conditioning, equating male presence with triumph and achievement. For a woman not married at a certain age is a mark of failure, while for men, it is romanticized as patient deliberation, and a matter of exercising choice, encapsulates these prejudices. Until women are empowered to transition from mere side characters and claim the protagonist or lead role in their own stories, these skewed representations will continue to thrive.
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