Every working day, Pakistan’s family courts bear quiet witness to the unravelling of marriages. Long before the judge takes the bench, courthouse corridors begin to fill with women waiting alongside lawyers, parents and siblings, their files tucked under their arms. Inside those files are marriage certificates, identity cards and petitions seeking khula—the legal dissolution of marriage initiated by a wife under the Pakistani court of law.

Some women seek divorce after having endured years of physical violence. Others describe emotional neglect, infidelity, financial abandonment or relationships that slowly collapsed under the weight of incompatible expectations. The stories may be different, but they converge at the same place: the courtroom. When their husbands can no longer offer them safety and protection, women turn to the law in hopes to reclaim the right to decide the course of their own lives.

For generations, marriage in Pakistan was treated as a lifelong commitment that women were expected to preserve, often at considerable personal cost. A very dark axiom was repeated by parents upon marrying off their daughters: only your corpse should be returned to us now that you are leaving.” Divorce, although legally permissible, carried a stigma so heavy that many women remained silent even when marriages became unbearable. The fear of being labelled a “divorcee,” of bringing shame to the family, or of losing financial and social security often outweighed the desire to leave.

Today, that equation appears to be changing.

Across Pakistan’s urban centres, more women are approaching family courts to seek khula, prompting renewed debate about what the increase actually represents. Is it a sign that marriages are becoming weaker? Or does it indicate that women are finally able to exercise a legal right that existed for decades but was often inaccessible because of economic dependence, social pressure and deeply rooted gender expectations?

A complicated question in a society like ours. The answer to it is equally complicated.

The growing number of women seeking judicial divorce does not necessarily mean Pakistani women are rejecting marriage. For many, it represents a willingness to reject marriages that they believe have become unsafe, emotionally damaging or impossible to sustain. A 2025 qualitative study on women-initiated divorce in Lahore found that women often pursued khula as a last resort after attempts at reconciliation failed, with experiences of violence, incompatibility, neglect and deteriorating relationships among the key reasons cited.

At the centre of this shift is a legal mechanism that has existed for decades but is now being used more openly.

A legal exit

Under Pakistani family law, a Muslim woman can seek dissolution of marriage through khula by approaching a family court. The process is governed primarily by the Family Courts Act, 1964, alongside principles derived from Islamic jurisprudence and subsequent judicial interpretations. Unlike talaq, where a husband can initiate divorce through a legally prescribed process, khula allows a woman to ask the court to dissolve the marriage when she no longer wishes to continue the relationship. Traditionally, courts may require the return or waiver of haq mehr—the dower promised by the husband at marriage—although the treatment of financial rights has evolved through case law.

Recent judicial developments have reinforced that women’s consent remains central to the process. In 2025, the Supreme Court of Pakistan held that family courts cannot automatically convert a failed cruelty claim into a khula decree without obtaining the woman’s clear and voluntary consent, particularly where financial rights such as dower are involved.

For lawyers working in family courts, the change is visible not only in the number of cases but in the confidence with which women approach the legal system.

“There is more awareness of the law in urban centres,” says Abdul Shakoor, a family lawyer who has been practising for 15 years. “In rural areas, marriages continue in the same [traditional] pattern, even if there is domestic violence or mental suffering.”

Shakoor believes that for many women, divorce provides a necessary escape from situations where they feel trapped. “These laws are meant to end your pain,” he says. “If a woman is scared for her safety, she should avail legal help.”

However, he cautions against viewing every divorce petition through a single lens. “I have seen genuine cases where women were abused emotionally or physically by their husbands,” he says. “But many cases are also based on emotions.” He points to younger couples who marry against family wishes and later discover that their relationship cannot withstand everyday pressures. “If love marriages are not successful, sometimes couples want a divorce after six or eight months,” he says.

He stressed that the challenge lies in balancing access to justice with the realities of changing relationships. “The divorce laws are essentially good for women,” he says. “Initially after divorce, problems increase—custody issues, social issues, financial issues—but genuine cases deserve legal relief.”

Not a sudden decision

Behind every petition filed in a family court is usually a much longer story.

Maria’s marriage did not end because she wanted it to. She says she spent years trying to hold it together.

One Eidul Azha, her husband dropped her and their two-year-old daughter at her parents’ home. He said he would return after the holidays. The visit that was supposed to last a few days became permanent.

Two years later, he sent divorce papers.

Maria says the marriage had been marked by violence and humiliation. She recalls being blamed even during the traumatic birth of their daughter, when complications required an emergency Caesarean section after the baby’s umbilical cord became wrapped around her neck.

“He blamed me for everything,” she says.

She had not entered a marriage built on romance or familiarity. “It was not a love marriage,” she says. “I had never even seen his face.”

Even after years of suffering, she says divorce was not what she wanted. “I told my mother-in-law, if you want your son to marry again, that is fine. But let me live in your house with my daughter. I just did not want my child to be separated from either parent.”

Her request was refused.

Maria’s daughter is now 13. She says her former in-laws have never contacted the child.

Her story reflects one of the contradictions at the heart of Pakistan’s divorce debate. Leaving a marriage may represent legal freedom, but it does not erase the emotional, financial and social consequences that follow.

Are more women seeking justice?

The phrase “rising divorce rates” has become increasingly common in discussions about changing marriages in Pakistan. Yet the reality is more complicated than the headlines suggest.

Pakistan does not currently have a single, comprehensive national database that tracks divorces across all provinces, making it difficult to determine the exact national divorce rate. Available figures often come from family courts, Union Councils and local government records rather than a centralised system. These numbers show an increase in divorce-related cases in several urban centres, but they do not necessarily mean that marriages are collapsing at an unprecedented rate.

They may also indicate that more women are choosing to formally end marriages that previous generations might have endured silently.

In Lahore, for example, reports based on Union Council records have shown a significant increase in khula certificates issued in recent years. Lawyers and family court practitioners have also pointed to growing numbers of women approaching courts for dissolution of marriage. Researchers say that increased reporting can reflect improved awareness, easier access to legal remedies and greater willingness to register marital breakdowns rather than a simple decline in the institution of marriage.

This distinction is important because divorce has historically been underreported in Pakistan. Many marriages that ended informally—through separation, abandonment or families arranging a private resolution—never entered official records.

A woman who walks into a courtroom may now represent not only a marriage that ended, but also a social change– the decision to seek recognition and legal protection.

A changing idea of marriage

The reasons women seek divorce are varied. Domestic violence remains one of the most frequently cited factors, but lawyers and researchers say marital breakdown is rarely caused by a single issue. For some women, the problem is abuse. For others, it is years of emotional neglect, financial disputes, addiction, infidelity or interference from extended families.

Increasingly, however, women are also questioning marriages that lack emotional compatibility. This reflects a broader transformation in how marriage itself is understood.

For previous generations, marriage was often viewed primarily as a social and family institution. Compatibility, companionship and personal fulfillment were important, but they were frequently secondary to considerations of family reputation, economic security and social stability. Younger generations increasingly approach marriage differently. Many expect emotional support, mutual respect and partnership alongside traditional responsibilities. When those expectations are not met, some women are less willing to accept lifelong unhappiness as an unavoidable part of marriage.

Education and economic independence have played a significant role in this shift. A woman with her own income, professional identity or educational qualifications may have greater ability to leave an unhealthy marriage than someone who depends entirely on her husband or family for financial support.

This does not mean financially independent women divorce more often simply because they can. Rather, economic security can remove one of the strongest barriers that has historically kept women in difficult marriages. For decades, the question facing many women was not whether they wanted to leave. It was whether they could afford to.

If Maria represents women who have already crossed that threshold, another woman in her early 30s—who asked not to be identified—illustrates why many others remain. Married with two children, she says her relationship has long since broken down. She continues to live under the same roof with her cheating husband, but largely for the sake of their children. "He is not my priority anymore but my children are," she says.

In recent months, she has been trying to return to work after years away from employment. The decision, she says, is not driven by ambition alone. It is about ensuring that if she eventually chooses divorce, she can provide for her children without depending on anyone else. Work has also given her something she had long been missing: a sense of purpose beyond a marriage overshadowed by her husband's infidelity.

Her experience highlights a reality that lawyers and researchers repeatedly point to: legal rights alone do not guarantee freedom. Economic independence often determines whether those rights can actually be exercised.

The stigma survives the law

While the law may provide a pathway out, social acceptance has been slower to change.

Divorced women in Pakistan continue to face a level of scrutiny that divorced men often do not. A divorced man may be described as someone whose marriage did not work out. A divorced woman is still frequently judged through assumptions about her character, behaviour or ability to maintain a household. The label itself carries social weight.

Women often describe being blamed for their marriages ending regardless of the circumstances. Some face questions about why they could not “adjust”. Others worry about the impact of divorce on their children, future relationships or standing within their families.

For many, the hardest battle begins after the court issues the divorce decree. “There are custody problems, social issues and financial problems,” says Abdul Shakoor. “When husbands are hurt sometimes their ego comes into play and they make things difficult.”

Child custody remains one of the most emotionally charged aspects of divorce proceedings. Although Pakistani law prioritises the welfare of the child, custody disputes can become prolonged and deeply painful for both parents.

Women who leave abusive marriages may also find themselves facing economic uncertainty. If they have been out of the workforce for years, rebuilding financial independence can be challenging. This reality explains why many women continue to tolerate unhappy marriages despite having legal options.

Is society becoming more accepting?

There are signs of change.

Conversations around domestic violence, mental health and women’s rights have become more visible in Pakistan’s public discourse. Younger Pakistanis are increasingly willing to discuss issues that previous generations considered private family matters.

Women are also finding communities of support through advocacy groups, online networks and legal awareness campaigns. But acceptance remains uneven. Urban, educated families may increasingly view divorce as a difficult but legitimate life decision. In many other communities, particularly where economic dependence and traditional expectations remain stronger, divorced women continue to face exclusion and suspicion.

The experience of divorce also varies significantly depending on class. A financially secure woman living in a major city may have access to lawyers, employment opportunities and social support networks. A woman in a rural area or from a lower-income household may face far greater obstacles. For her, leaving a marriage can mean losing housing, financial support and family protection.This is why legal empowerment alone cannot address the challenges women face. Access to justice must be accompanied by economic opportunities, social support systems and effective enforcement of rights.

A question of agency

The debate around divorce in Pakistan often becomes framed as a question of whether society is becoming more “modern” or whether traditional values are being weakened. But for many women seeking divorce, the issue is far more personal. Without rejecting marriage, they are asking whether marriage can exist without dignity, safety and mutual respect.

A rise in women seeking judicial divorce may therefore represent two realities at once. It may reflect the persistence of marital problems that were previously hidden. But it may also represent progress: women becoming more aware of their rights and more willing to use the legal system when those rights are violated.

The law cannot guarantee a happy marriage. It cannot repair relationships that have broken down. It cannot remove the stigma that follows divorced women. But it can provide something that was historically denied to many women—the ability to leave. And that is what matters. Because empowerment is not measured by how many women choose divorce. It is measured by whether women have the freedom to make that choice at all.

For Maria, the court documents that ended her marriage did not erase years of hurt. They did not restore the relationship between her daughter and her former in-laws. They did not remove the questions society continues to ask divorced women. She wishes to remarry. However, the legal system recognised that her life did not have to remain defined by a marriage that had already ended.

The growing number of women seeking divorce in Pakistan is therefore not simply a story about marriages ending. It is a story about women renegotiating the boundaries of what they are expected to endure—and what they are entitled to leave behind.