Born unwelcome

Many claim daughters are a blessing. They gush about how much they love their sisters. They insist women deserve respect. But the truth hits the moment — day zero — a girl is born.

No fireworks, no mithai, no praise, no photos, no phone calls — just silence, sometimes laced with regret and disappointment. And in rural districts like Torghar (K-P) or Kech (Balochistan), she might not even be registered. It's like she didn't arrive at all.

The air turns heavy when it's 'just a girl'. The in-laws' mood curdles. The same people who cheered your wedding now weigh your worth. The mother-in-law rattles off how many grandsons her other daughters-in-law have brought into the family. Expect taunts, quiet snubs or worse if you fail to deliver sons.

Boys get new clothes, toys and gold; girls often get hand-me-downs or knockoffs. Aqeeqahs and other traditional feasts for baby girls are often modest or skipped altogether while boys get lavish celebrations.

Boys are called Shahzaib or Zarrar — names echoing honour, legacy and strength — while girls' names are chosen perfunctorily, almost like ticking off a task.

The chromosome that determines a baby's sex comes from the father, not the mother — right? But she bears the consequences of his ignorance, ego and entitlement.

Some men remarry after two or three daughters, convinced a new wife will deliver the prize; some erupt in rage; some walk away; others push their wives time and again until a son arrives. One man I know kept trying until the ninth child. When he finally had a son — born with a disability — the unease behind the congratulations was hard to miss.

Disturbingly, some still opt for illegal sex-selective abortions. Thanks to pressure, most gynecologists now refuse to reveal gender — a tiny and hard-fought victory. But even if a girl survives the womb, what awaits her next?

She tastes it in nutrition. She feels it in healthcare. If there's only enough for one child's food or treatment, the boy gets it; girls get leftovers and their coughs can wait. It's worse in poor households where every rupee must be defended. Even the same parents who lovingly feed and treat their sons think twice about wasting (as they see it) a doctor's visit on a feverish daughter.

Before school even begins, her training starts: not in books, but in chores. She helps her mother sweep, cook and care for siblings. She's taught silence and endurance while the boy beside her is told to lead, speak and aim higher (much like training one to crawl while urging the other to fly). No one sees how it chips away at her mind and confidence.

In some tribal areas, her fate is sealed before she can even open her eyes. Newborn girls are informally engaged to cousins or tribal allies, tiny futures locked in without consent. It's not fate; it's a choice we keep making as a society.

Let's stop pretending these injustices are confined to rural pockets. Urban hypocrisy just wears better clothes. Let's not pretend only the uneducated enable this or that the gender gap in child survival is natural, cultural or economic. We engineer it by preference and prejudice.

Change doesn't need another national campaign or billboard with smiling girls. It needs shame! Shame in the hearts of families who treat their sons like heirs and their daughters like consolation prizes. Shame in the voices of husbands who blame women for the biology they themselves pass on. Shame in a society that keeps girls alive, but never lets them thrive.

Until we begin to see the birth of a daughter as a cause for celebration -— not restraint, not regret — we'll remain a nation guilty of waging a quiet war on half our future.