The following story was taken from Gawaahi.
Here is the original link:


"I still ask myself why was I so stupid. There was nothing special about him. He was just another boy.
For him, she was the one he would marry. It wasn’t that he loved her, it was because he felt safe with her, he said.
She wasn’t the prettiest girl around. In fact, he often told her she should cover her face with a brown bag. She didn’t have the courage to talk back, or retaliate. It didn’t matter what he did — whether he yelled at her, abused her, or shoved her hand in the frying pan, she stayed with him.
When did it start? On the day of the nikah. The rukhsati was to be 6 months after.  There I was, sitting on the stage smiling away, oblivious to the nightmare that was going to change my life forever.
The day I retaliated, he used the only way he saw fit to keep me in his control. As he said, he ‘branded’ me. The rukhsati had not happened, but I was married to him. It was marital rape. How could a person I gave everything, subject me to this? I felt that my integrity was shattered. I lost my faith, my respect, my dignity. I wasn’t pure anymore. I was ashamed. But above all, I lost my will to stay in a relationship with a monster. I walked out.
I kept it a secret, and filed for a khulah (divorce initiated by the wife) much to the dismay of my family, and I hadn’t even told them the whole truth. I knew that if I did, they would do anything in their power to send me back to him. After all, who would marry me now? I would never get a decent proposal if anyone discovered that I had lost my virginity.
I am glad that I didn’t tell anyone the actual reason for the khulah. Pity is all I would have gotten. I would have been shunned from society.  Oh, wait. I did get all that by being a divorcee.  Being twenty-one and divorced isn’t easy. Imagine what being twenty-one, divorced and a rape victim would have been like.
It’s been almost three years, but I still have nightmares.  I can’t say anything to defend myself. It was my fault. The decision had been mine. The mistakes had been mine too.
My point is that people like me don’t speak up about marital rape because of the pressures of society. Instead of punishing the rapist, it is the victim who is subjected to torment. Everyone makes mistakes, but women are blamed for their own mistakes as well as those of others."

This is what I was talking about when I spoke about this girl.

4.

Every once in a while I come across something that makes me very glad that I had the choice and made the decision to study at a women's college. In South Hadley it can become difficult to see how choosing an institution can also be a statement of the politics you believe in. There are people who attend because they did not get accepted into their first choice colleges, there are those who become disillusioned with the somewhat militant versions of feminism (me being amongst them) that exist on campus, and then there's also the matter of becoming complacent about the bubble you find yourself in, and with the passage of time you inevitably start taking your environment for granted. It's easier to dumb yourself down at college more than anywhere else because you find yourself caught up in trying to maintain those grades you need to get into that graduate program you've wanted to be in for as long as you can remember now, because it will help you get that career you've always dreamed of. The things you were once passionate about either recede into a "temporary" insignificance because you promise yourself there will be time to attend to personal interests later, or they become part of your academics, and as much as you might love them there will be times when you feel sick of them because that's the difference between having to do something and wanting to do it.
My point is that these things never occurred to me while I was at Moho, and even if they did, it was easy to forget about them. Till I came back to Karachi. I've learnt again and again that distance gives you clarity.
Last night my friends and I were talking about a certain couple and their not-so-strange relationship. The boyfriend is an emotionally abusive, patriarchal, pig-headed and overly possessive waste of space, and the girlfriend is, accordingly, meek, obedient, afraid to death of him and acts as the fuel that feeds his already inflated ego. These kinds of relationships are fairly common, granted. However, what I fail to understand is that this girl is one of the few in a country like ours who have been given the opportunity to have a certain degree of autonomy over their lives, and yet here she is, willingly involved in an abusive relationship with someone who claims to love her but will refer to her as a whore if he catches her even saying hello to another man. While women all over Pakistan are involved in a struggle to be considered human beings and first class citizens who should be able to enjoy equal rights and liberties, should have access to fair justice and should be able to have a say in how they will live their lives, there is this girl who insults these struggles by allowing  a person to determine every aspect of her life, down to when/if she can breathe.
While I am in no way disregarding any emotional attachments that come as part of being in love with someone, my main problem here is the abuse of choice. There is something absurd about being with someone who insists that you cannot be friends with girls who are not in committed relationships or are not married, because women who are single are a corrupting influence. She has chosen to be with someone who abuses her emotionally and perhaps even physically, but there are women who have to suffer the same kinds of relationships everyday of their lives without being given the choice to put their foot down and say no, I will not take your nonsense, I will not let you take ownership of my person, I will not let you make the decisions I should be making for myself, and I will not let you make me so dependent that I have to rely on you for my survival. And perhaps some will argue that she should be left alone, and I suppose they would have a point, but it wouldn't be one I believe in. By choosing to stay in a relationship so poisonous, this girl belittles me, she belittles my mother's struggle as a single parent to three daughters in a country so deeply steeped in sexism, Mukhtaran Mai's fight for justice, the work of institutions like Aurat Foundation and the common struggle of thousands of women, for many of whom it takes the form of hope that perhaps their daughters will not suffer like they are suffering.
I could say it in one line, or I could say it in a long post, but dear girl, you have no right. Really.