"I booked an online appointment with a gynaecologist in Karachi during the pandemic. I had a severe urinary tract infection and needed immediate relief. Everything felt routine at first: the doctor joined the video call late, held her phone awkwardly and asked about my symptoms. I explained, she prescribed medication, and then came the expected questions: Was I married? For how long? Any children? When I said no, her tone shifted as she asked, Bachay tou chaihiye na aap ko? (You do want children, right?)."
"What shocked me more was my own response. Ji, ji, bilkul, (Yes, yes, of course) I mumbled. Later, I was furious with myself for crumbling under pressure for not being honest. I live in a country where a woman's value is often measured by her ability and willingness to become a mother. People casually throw around words like baanjh (infertile) even when a woman is simply choosing to wait."
A woman sought urgent care for a severe urinary tract infection via an online gynaecology appointment during the pandemic. The doctor joined late, asked routine questions, then shifted tone after learning the patient had no children and pressured her about wanting kids. The patient complied verbally despite feeling coerced and later felt angry at herself for not being honest. The broader social context treats a woman's value as tied to motherhood, normalizes labels like baanjh (infertile), and encourages unsolicited interventions from relatives, strangers, and traditional healers, framing non-parenthood as a problem to be fixed.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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