Monday, 17 April 2023
Monday, 10 April 2023
Monday, 3 April 2023
Thursday, 26 January 2023
‘We have no one’: The women and girls sold as brides in Kashmir
Arsheeda Jan* speaks fluent Kashmiri with an accent that suggests it is not her first language. The 43-year-old is originally from Kolkata but now lives in a two-room wooden home on the banks of the river Jhelum on the outskirts of Srinagar city. Her eyes fill with tears as she describes how she arrived in Kashmir more than two decades ago.
Her parents died when she was a child, she explains, and she and her four siblings were sent to live with relatives. “We were very poor,” she says.
When she met a middle-aged Bengali woman who promised her a job in a shawl factory in Kashmir, Arsheeda saw an opportunity to earn some money. She was 13 years old.
“She told me that will provide me with a job in Kashmir and we have to do embroidery on shawls. I had no idea where Kashmir is,” Arsheeda recalls.
She didn’t tell her siblings about her plan.
When she reached Kashmir, the woman, who was herself married to a Kashmiri man, kept Arsheeda in her home for a week. During that time, Arsheeda says she did all of the household chores in the belief that the woman was going to help her build a better life for herself.
“I kept on asking her ‘where is the job?’ Then one day a man and his father arrived with a bearded man who was supposed to do my nikah (marriage contract).”
A photo of a woman looking outside through a window indoors.
Arsheeda has had no contact with her family since she was trafficked two decades ago [Rifat Fareed]
When Arsheeda cried, the cleric explained that he could not marry her against her will and left. But the family found someone else who was willing to do it.
“The agent threatened me that if I raise my voice she will kill me. I was very scared,” she says.
Still just 13, Arsheeda was married to a labourer nine years her senior.
“When my husband entered my room for the first time, I was shivering. I tried to flee many times but failed. Then I became pregnant. I gave up on the idea that I can ever leave this life,” she says.
Arsheeda, who now has four children, has had no contact with her family in Kolkata since she left.
“When there is a fight with my husband he asks me to leave and pay the money for which he bought me,” she says.
Pointing to a scar on her forehead, Arsheeda explains: “My husband beats me sometimes and he taunts me.”
When her husband is violent, she says she tries to take shelter in her neighbours’ house but that they are unwelcoming. “[They] inform my husband,” she explains. “Some neighbours assume I have slept with many men, that’s how they think I landed here. They don’t understand …”
“Everyone looks at me differently. I still feel alien.”
Wednesday, 23 March 2022
Friday, 16 July 2021
Pakistan: The ordeal of 'abandoned wives' left behind by UK families
Sana Hafeez, 28, from Pakistan-administered Kashmir, had hardly started the 10th grade when her family arranged her engagement to her British-born cousin Muhammad Bilal Choudhary.
Although Hafeez had wanted to become a civil servant after completing her education, she was excited by the prospect of going to the United Kingdom. She thought it would help ease her family's financial troubles and provide her with an opportunity to get an education and a good job.
"But to my surprise, my fiancée and his family asked me not to pursue my studies beyond grade 12," she told DW. "I was heartbroken, but the prospect of going to the UK and supporting my family financially was still a solace."
The pair remained engaged for five years and married in August 2018. Her husband left for the UK a week after the marriage, and both he and her in-laws had promised to take her there as well, said Hafeez.
Hafeez is one of many women from her region who have been married off to British Pakistani men in the hope they can help their families financially. But lawyers and womens' rights activists say that many of these marriages often go awry.
Several residents of Hafeez's district of Mirpur have family members in Britain. Many people left in the 1950s and 60s, when the construction of a large dam affected thousands in the district.
Over the years, through marriages, asylum, work permits and family connections, many made their way to the former colonial power.
"For a year we remained engaged and talked over the phone," Hafeez recalled. But her fiance's attitude started to change in 2019. "When I insisted on coming to the UK, he started hurling slurs and insults and finally filed for divorce in May of this year," she said, fighting back tears.
"It was a bombshell for me and the family. He wasted eight years of my life," she said. Additionally, her family had to borrow money to pay for the marriage — money which they thought could be repaid once she was settled in the UK.
"I could have become a civil servant or gotten a higher education. Who will compensate for all my losses?" she asked.
Hafeez's case is not unusual, said Ghazala Haider Lodhi, a women's rights advocate.
"Since the 1990s, I have heard and seen thousands of cases of such women," Lodhi told DW.
"Because of the conservative nature of our society they cannot share their ordeals."
Lawyer Ifzal Ahmed Khan has witnessed many similar cases. Khan told DW that a British Pakistani man, originally from the town of Bhimber in Pakistan-administered Kashmir, married his cousin Sadaf more than seven years ago. He stayed with her for a few years and abandoned her after the birth of a baby boy.
The man later divorced his cousin, he said, adding that the man is now threatening to take the child.
Sardar Abrar Azad, an activist in Mirpur, says his friend's sister was also abandoned after being married to a British Pakistani. According to Azad, poverty is what drives families to marry off their daughters to British Pakistanis. He added that people are often so desperate to send their daughters to the UK that they don't pay much attention to the character of the husband-to-be.
Many of the men turn out to be utter frauds, Azad said. "Instead of taking the girls back, they stay here for months while the girls' families bear their accommodation expenses."
While poverty is one reason young women are married off, some parents seek husbands for their daughters in order to strengthen existing family ties, he said.
Most of the girls, advocate Lodhi said, are from impoverished families, who hope that their daughters will call one of their brothers to the UK or will themselves work there and send money back. What seems like a dream can soon turn into a nightmare, she said.
'Parents should seek consent'
"I think parents need to seek the consent of their sons and daughters who are born and brought up in the UK under completely different socio-economic conditions," Sardar Attique Ahmed Khan, former prime minister of the disputed territory, told DW.
He believes that a lack of consent leads to the breakup of such marriages. "The man and woman should be given a chance to communicate with one another and understand each other before they decide to marry," he said.
In Mirpur, the British Pakistani men marrying local women have an increasingly bad reputation. Lodhi claims that almost half of them are already married. In one case, a British Pakistani man married more than six times. "Most of these men are over 40 and even 60 in some cases," Lodhi said.
"They know most of their victims are poor and cannot do anything against them," said Khan. "So they marry here, and spend a few months or years impregnating women. In some cases, they take the kids with them and in others they leave both the wife and kids here, and ruin their lives."
"What else could it be described as except debauchery and lust?" he said.
Attique Khan believes that society has to take steps to stop such marriages. "Efforts could be made at the government level, but civil society has to create awareness to stop this trend," he said.
Wednesday, 17 July 2019
Monday, 14 January 2019
Criminalising forced marriage: The risk of symbolic gestures
A young woman sits in front of the bank manager, her distress is palpable with tears streaming down her face; her voice comes out in desperate gasps.
“Please don’t call the police; I can’t explain how awful things will get.”
“They have broken the law, I have no choice.” He responds.
“Please, please, please, don’t.” She is almost incoherent with distress.
The bank manager appraises her. She had come in this morning to relay to him that her bank cards had been fraudulently reported stolen by her family. The young woman had fled a forced marriage and her family in their rage had retaliated. He agrees to not report them and the young woman looks visibly relieved.
This young woman was me ten years ago. I recount this experience to give a glimmer into what it is like when you are fighting for survival. When all you want is your safety and the thought of police intervention fills you with horror.
Governments like symbolic gestures: a big summit to end sexual violence in war zones with a Hollywood star at the helm or the passing of a law to criminalise forced marriage. Sometimes symbols matter, other times, symbols are a lot easier than tackling the complexities of a problem. I was reminded of this as news came through this week that forced marriage had been criminalised by the coalition government; it is a law that fills me with dread.
Dread because I have serious concerns as to whether it will protect victims at risk. A person fleeing a forced marriage has been under extreme emotional pressure to comply and the prospect of taking their family to court, where the maximum custodial penalty is seven years, can be an overwhelming prospect. So much so, that it could prove to be a deterrent in asking for help. The cultural context in which these situations arise, where misogynistic notions of honour prevail, make leaving that much harder.
A law would not have helped me get out sooner and nor would it have been a deterrent to my family. Kidnap, false imprisonment and rape are all criminal acts but if they have not stopped women and boys being forced to marry against their will, then what is the rationale for a new law now? Symbols only work if there has been work on the ground to provide the necessary support to victims and survivors.
It is not sexy to provide funding to women’s services. It doesn’t get you the headline of sharing the platform with a Hollywood star. It is not sexy to teach relationship and consent in schools or to train teachers, GP’s, UKBA to spot the signs of a forced marriage. It is these things that will make a tangible difference and even save lives.
Passing a law is a quick win but at what price? There is a real chance that this may force the issue underground. Forced marriage is already hugely under reported; the Forced Marriage Unit reported that they gave advice or support related to a possible forced marriage in 1302 cases between January to December 2013. I suspect this is a tiny snapshot of the real picture. There are many boys and girls that flee and sleep on friend’s floors, they learn to survive and work and carry on. I know I did. All I wanted was my life back and a bed without a stranger, a room to call my own again.
So my message to Theresa May and David Cameron is: I really hope you will be backing your symbolic gestures with the effort needed on the ground to protect those people most at risk.
Link
Tuesday, 27 November 2018
Monday, 15 October 2018
What Can I Do If I'm Being Forced To Marry Someone? | Ustadha Taimiyyah Zubair
Forced marriage is a crime a sin and means parents are destroying the lives of their own children. It has to stop! Say No! Seek Help!
Tuesday, 26 June 2018
Noura in her own words: Teen who killed rapist husband shares her story
Sudanese teenager Noura Hussein, who is on death row for killing her 35-year-old husband, in a case that has sparked international outrage, has spoken out for the first time about her forced marriage, and the rape and struggle that happened when she stabbed him.
Noura's first-hand account was obtained by CNN. It has been translated, and lightly edited for clarity and length.
Noura Hussein: He told my parents that he wanted to marry me when I was in the 8th grade.
They fooled me after I sat the secondary school exams at the end of that year.
And the first time I even saw him was a week after he proposed the marriage to my uncle.
And from the first time they told me I refused. I told them I don't want to marry, I want to study.
I spoke to him directly and said, "I don't want to marry you."
I fled to Sinnar to my aunt's house, but two days later they brought me back and the religious ceremony took place, two weeks after he first proposed, in our house.
I was overwhelmed with anger, I didn't want this man.
I sat in the hairdressers contemplating suicide.
On the ninth day his relatives came, his uncle told me to go to the bedroom. I said no so he dragged me by my arm into the bedroom and his cousin slapped me. All of them tore at my clothing. His uncle held me down by my legs and each of the other two held down my arms. He stripped and had me while I wept and screamed. Finally, they left the room. I was bleeding, I slept naked.
The next day he grabbed me, threw me on the bed and tried to climb on top of me. I was fighting back and my hand found a knife under the pillow. We began grappling over the knife. He cut my hand and bit down on my shoulder.
I ran to my parent's house. I had no idea how I got there. I was still carrying the knife.
Wednesday, 30 May 2018
Forced marriage: Mother jailed for four-and-a-half years
'Cruelly deceived'
Friday, 16 March 2018
'I was bought for 50,000 rupees': India's trafficked brides
Tuesday, 28 February 2017
The Good Wife
Monday, 18 April 2016
Forced To Marry
Friday, 8 January 2016
Thursday, 9 July 2015
Filmmaker Wants To Stop Fathers From Giving Up Their Daughters
Thursday, 2 April 2015
Women’s groups campaign in D.C. to help victims of forced marriages





