Red is the colour of sacrifice

Sheep led to slaughter may sense what awaits them, yet they have no choice but to move forward. Some might even mistake movement for freedom and look forward to life beyond their stockyard. Dress these sheep in bright reds and golds, surround them with garlands, fill the air with melancholic music, and gather eager spectators, and the ritual begins to resemble a typical wedding procession. Herded down the aisle against their free will, millions of women and girls face a similar fate as their right to shape their own lives is sacrificed at the altar of culture.

Under Section 498-B of the Pakistan Penal Code (PPC), Pakistan formally criminalises forced marriage. As per the law, compelling a woman into marriage through coercion or unlawful pressure is a non-compoundable offence and can entail penalties of up to seven years’ imprisonment along with a fine of 500,000 rupees. The reality, however, is that coerced brides rarely take their families to court. Many leave their homes amid warm hugs and tearful farewells, with the sound of celebratory drums and the weight of their bridal attire crushing their inner turmoil.

According to the 2023 UN Women’s National Report on the Status of Women in Pakistan, nearly 84 per cent of women and girls aged between 15 and 49 have no say in their marriage decisions, which are often taken by the household head or other family members. In 31% of cases, marriages are decided by the household head alone, while in 53% of cases other household members, except the woman, have a final say in choosing suitors and fixing the marriage. In Punjab, the most developed province, consent before marriage is taken from just 47.2 per cent of women.

Interestingly, for a society where the distinction between arranged and forced marriages remains obscure, family coercion does not register as an antithesis to consent but rather as a precursor. 

Some of the most loved television serials have thrived on the trope of two reluctant people eventually falling in love after a forced marriage. Cultural fantasies of fated lovers uniting under forceful circumstances help feed the patriarchal system, minimising the gravity of coercion for the woman who has to form an intimate bond with a stranger and settle in an unknown home against her will.

Dr Rakhshinda Parveen, a Gender Equality, Disability and Social Inclusion (GEDSI) expert believed that despite their criminalisation, forced marriages remain one of the most widespread yet least acknowledged forms of marriage in Pakistan. “Family authority, emotional pressure, and cultural obligation normalise coercion, making it invisible. Hence many marriages that meet objective indicators of coercion are not socially recognised as forced. Even when coercion is evident, cases often go unreported—much like other forms of abuse affecting women,” said Dr Parveen.

Gendered psychological perspectives explain the subtle, often invisible ways in which forced marriages continue to occur. “Despite laws prohibiting forced marriage and religious teachings against coercion, the practice persists due to widespread social denial. This denial is reinforced by cognitive dissonance, where people reconcile contradictions between their values and harmful practices by redefining coercion as cultural norm. As a result, actions that violate legal and ethical standards are normalised rather than challenged,” noted Dr Rafia Rafique, a health psychologist.

The mirage of consent

Legally, marriage consent must be ‘free and voluntary without coercion’. However, what stands as an anomaly in the context of marriages in Pakistan is the harmony with which consent and coercion seem to peacefully coexist. In fact, this foundational disparity is one reason why forced marriages have never been addressed categorically as a separate issue and have often been conflated with child marriages or forced conversions.

Interestingly, a simple Google search for “forced marriages in Pakistan” would list a collection of news reports, policy manuals and legal rulings on child marriages or forced conversions. While both the latter are equally alarming human rights violations, society’s tendency to identify female minors and minority women as the only victims of forced marriages appears to rest on a negligent presumption which serves a deeply patriarchal purpose.

In Pakistan, the socio-legal assumption that “consent” and “free will” are automatically guaranteed to, and voluntarily exercised by, all Muslim women after the minimum age of 18 fails to account for the discreet yet unwavering hold of patriarchy on women’s capacity to make their own decisions regardless of age or religion. Highlighting a few intersectionally vulnerable victims of the practice helps divert attention away from the millions of women whose “no” is still taken for a “yes”.

“For a vast majority of women across class, region, and education levels, ‘qabool hai’ is merely a ritualistic formality, not a reflection of free consent. This reality has been repeatedly portrayed in Pakistani films, literature and television dramas, indicating how deeply normalised this contradiction is within society. From my deliberately liberal, unorthodox and admittedly unpopular perspective, court marriages may be the only marriages in Pakistan that come closest to being genuinely free from force,” says Dr Parveen.

Mahnoor Omer, a human rights lawyer and gender consultant, felt that the biggest disconnect between how consent is defined in law and how it is actually established in practice is that the legal definition itself remains incomplete. “While some guidance exists through case law and judicial interpretation, there has been little meaningful legislative reform to clearly define what informed consent in marriage truly entails,” noted Omer.

“One critical issue is the continued acceptance of proxy consent through the concept of a wali [guardian]. In practice, it is still common for a father or male relative to consent on behalf of a woman, sometimes without her explicit participation. This undermines the very idea of consent. Adult women should be required to express consent themselves—clearly and directly. No one should be able to enter into a marital contract on their behalf; therefore, proxy consent should be outlawed,” emphasised Omer.

Alarmingly, silence at the time of nikkah is also interpreted as consent. In a culture where an explicit refusal at the time of marriage is a risk few women under duress would dare to take, gender-sensitive legislation could treat silence as a warning sign. However, the deeply entrenched misogyny within state institutions means that, in moments of ambiguity, interpretations often tilt in favour of men. Silence, instead of being read as the absence of a clear yes, is taken as the absence of a clear no. Reluctance is dismissed as modesty, and coercion is reframed as consent.

Commenting on the troubling custom, Omer conceded that some forced marriages continue to happen due to the misleading interpretation of silence as consent. “In some cases, registrars treat a woman’s silence—or lack of resistance—as agreement. This must be unequivocally rejected. Silence is not consent. A comprehensive legal framework should clearly define informed consent in marriage, require direct verbal consent from the woman, prohibit unauthorised proxy consent, and include safeguards against coercion,” implored Omer.

Referring to figures showing that 84 per cent of women have no say in their marriage decisions, Omer believed the data reflected a wider reality. “Forced marriage is rarely violent or immediate and is often driven by sustained social pressure—fear of stigma, ageing, or family expectations. While men may also face pressure, the consequences for women are far harsher. Without changes in social attitudes through education and awareness, legal reforms alone will remain ineffective,” explained Omer.

When people and even lawmakers think of forced marriages, many imagine an assaultive situation where a terrified bride is made to sign a marriage contract at gunpoint. However, what the androcentric society fails to acknowledge is the fact that violence comes in multiple forms. And when it comes to controlling a woman, the most potent weapon of choice is the invisible veil of manipulation.

Zoya*, who lived all her life in a small town in Punjab, was 20 when her mother casually showed her a picture of a ‘well-settled’ guy based in a metropolitan hub. “Something about the proposal made me feel uneasy, and since I was still studying, I declined it right away. However, what followed was days of emotional blackmail. My mother kept insisting that this is how marriages happen and that I will never be happy if I go against her will. Under pressure to marry at the ‘right age’ and eager to escape my suffocating family environment, I eventually agreed,” shared Zoya.

Despite hailing from an educated family, Zoya had no say in determining the course of her life.  At the time of her wedding, donning the veil of manipulation, she was all smiles, unaware that soon enough she would find herself walking on eggshells around an abusive narcissist. Fifteen years later, Zoya, now a mother of three children, still feels the pain of an unlived life. 

While there is nothing wrong with meeting people through arranged setups, not having the option to refuse without fear of negative repercussions is what precisely turns an arranged marriage into a forced one. “Forced marriage is strongly linked to severe psychological harm. Women in such unions frequently experience depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder and suicidal thoughts. Deprived of emotional connection and compelled to relocate and meet marital expectations, many develop a fractured sense of self and learn to suppress their emotions. Coerced sexual relations within these marriages deepen the trauma, often leaving lasting psychological scars that require sustained professional care,” explained Dr Rafique.

In Pakistan, the matter of forced marriages is further complicated by the law itself, which adopts a narrow, one-dimensional view of consent by conflating women’s legal capacity to consent with the conditions for consent. While women have the capacity to consent after the age of 18, they are unable to exercise that capacity without access to alternative options and freedom from manipulation and coercion. Since women entering adulthood face intense pressure to marry young and lack freedom and mobility without a husband, many feel compelled to accept any proposal as an escape from stigma and stagnation.

Shedding light on the psychological tactics at play in forced marriages, Dr Rafique felt that the internalisation of misogyny only makes matters worse since women become agents of patriarchy, usually due to intergenerational traumas and lack of education. “Mothers using statements like, ‘You will adjust with time,’ is an example of gaslighting and emotional blackmail. This creates confusion in a woman’s mind and forces her into submission using fear tactics of being socially excluded and criticised by the family,” noted Dr Rafique.

Omer went on to highlight the persistent problem of evidentiary invisibility of coercion. “Women who marry under social pressure, threats or psychological coercion often cannot ‘prove’ it in court. In the absence of physical evidence—such as kidnapping or violence—courts frequently dismiss claims of duress. Underlying this is a deeply paternalistic mindset: a belief that preserving the marriage is in the woman’s best interest, regardless of how it was formed. Questions like ‘Where will she go?’ or ‘Who will accept her?’ often override considerations of her autonomy and consent,” added Omer.

While both men and women may face forced marriages, their consequences are deeply gendered. “Men pressured to marry usually have children, can exit the marriage, and still remain socially acceptable and available in the marriage market. Women have no such social mobility. A woman who exits a forced marriage, especially later in life, even after economic or personal empowerment, is almost inevitably stigmatised as ‘a bad woman’. This unequal social cost explains why forced marriage continues to be treated as a private family matter rather than a serious criminal offence,” highlighted Dr Parveen.

Happily never after

Given their comparatively lower rate of divorce, marital disharmony is often hard to spot in arranged unions formed under duress. Yet the sheer volume of women silently enduring infidelity and children growing up in abusive yet outwardly “stable” homes should be enough to compel society to question the very foundations of its problematic marriage norms.

“Forced marriages often create relationships without trust or real connection, leading to conflict, emotional distance and sometimes abuse. Children raised in such environments are more likely to develop emotional and behavioural problems. On a larger scale, this practice reinforces gender inequality, weakens empathy and destabilises families—ultimately harming society’s well-being and slowing national development,” urged Dr Rafique.

Omer explained that while forced marriages are criminalised under the Pakistan Penal Code (PPC), enforcement remains deeply flawed. In practice, pursuing such cases requires filing an FIR—often the first point of failure. Police frequently dismiss complaints as “family disputes”, treating them as outside their jurisdiction. Even in cases of visible physical abuse, officers may hesitate to register an FIR, exposing serious gaps in both legal enforcement and gender sensitivity.

Omer stressed the urgent need for mandatory police training on both the law and the handling of gender-based violence, alongside strict requirements to register FIRs in such cases. Confusion between parallel legal systems—whether cases fall under family or criminal courts—further complicates access to justice, underscoring the need for greater clarity for both law enforcement and the public.

“Structural flaws extend to nikkah registration. Registrars—typically male clerics with little gender-sensitivity training—operate without consistent mechanisms to ensure free consent. Reforms should include mandatory private interviews in cases with red flags, improved age verification systems, the inclusion of trained female staff, and follow-up procedures to ensure women’s safety after registration,” urged Omer.

These institutional shortcomings are compounded by weak societal support. Although the state claims to offer legal aid and protection, such mechanisms are often inaccessible in practice—particularly for minority women and those from lower socioeconomic backgrounds. These intersecting vulnerabilities further silence victims and erode their credibility.

“Evidentiary standards also place an unfair burden on women. Victims are often required to prove coercion, while their testimony alone is rarely considered sufficient. If a woman states she entered a marriage under duress, her account should carry enough weight—at least to initiate annulment proceedings,” said Omer.

Omer added that if a marriage is later found to have been conducted under coercion, courts must move away from regressive interpretations that often favour men. Both police and the judiciary must shift toward a rights-based approach that prioritises the protection of vulnerable individuals.

“Survivors face multiple barriers: limited access to justice, inequality before the law, fear of social consequences and deep mistrust of state institutions. Ultimately, forced marriage remains undocumented not because it is rare, but because power determines visibility. It shapes whose coercion is acknowledged, whose consent is questioned and whose marriages are left beyond scrutiny,” asserted Dr Parveen.

“There are hardly any meaningful or accessible exit mechanisms for women facing forced marriages. Existing options are fragmented, under-resourced and socially risky for women to pursue. We must move away from donor-driven, checklist-style prevention models. What is needed is primary prevention and survivor response rooted in local social, religious and cultural contexts. This is a long-term and difficult process. Without oversimplifying, we must critically examine the institution of marriage itself, particularly the deep contradictions between religious ideals and lived cultural practices,” added Dr Parveen.

“At present, the gaps are significant. And in the absence of clear evidence of pressure, the police, courts and broader legal system have too often failed to side with women—leaving many without meaningful protection or recourse. To bring real change, stronger public awareness, better education and more courageous voices—especially from women in Parliament—are essential. Without this, the cycle of silence and injustice will continue,” implored Mahnoor Omer.