Negotiating Identity in Pakistan's Capital
- Aabiya Noman Baqai
- 15 hours ago
- 6 min read
By Aabiya Noman Baqai The following piece is part of Progressive City's Beyond Planning for the “Visitor Class” series, which asks authors to explore both the issues that arise from planning for the “visitor class”—economic, social, environmental, and beyond—as well as potential pathways to building cities that are not only culturally rich but also responsive to the needs of those who inhabit them. More information about this series can be found here.
Faisal Mosque is an iconic landmark for Islamabad residents, and Pakistan in general. Built in the 1980s, this mosque was a gift from Saudi Arabia to Pakistan, a means of extending a relationship between the two Muslim countries. The design evokes a Bedouin tent, a key element of the traditional architecture of central Saudi Arabia. This space aims to uphold specific value systems that the Pakistani government deems important for an ideal citizen. To be Pakistani means to be a good Muslim, since Pakistan is a “land of the pure,” and Islamabad, as its capital city, a “city of Islam.” As such, the ideal Sunni framework espoused by Saudi Arabia has become core to Pakistan’s value system as well. These systems have been translated into laws for citizens to follow, languages for different ethnicities to speak, cultural systems for people to idealize, and built forms for Pakistanis to admire and reflect on in the capital city. In doing so, Islamabad has followed the pattern of other capital cities by paying homage to a single imagined national identity and community through their built form, usually conjured up by a hired designer/planner, in collaboration with political leadership. Through this process, the capital city legitimizes national statehood by foregrounding specific glorified histories, thereby creating an official nationalism that caters to one ideal communal identity. The question then becomes, who gets to visit these elaborate national monuments—who gets to admire them, use them, and most importantly, who do they represent?
During my dissertation fieldwork in Islamabad, I worked with Christian women living in informal settlements, a population that doesn’t identify with many of the idealized markers of national Pakistani identity. Through this work, we dissected this dynamic by visiting Islamabad's many monuments and national public spaces. We conducted group walking tours where participants took pictures and analyzed their socio-spatial and visceral responses to these spaces. It quickly became obvious that they are excluded from the idealized national identity—a reality they were reminded of by Islamabad’s built environment. Many socio-spatial processes marginalize this group in accessing these public spaces, leading them to question their citizenship in the city and country at large. One participant captured this dilemma quite succinctly during one of our focus group discussions:
“This is a capital city, and people from all around the world live here. We also proudly call ourselves citizens of Islamabad and Pakistan, but we are without basic facilities and completely helpless. Thus, we urge the CDA (Capital Development Authority) that whenever they plan for the city, they should consider women, the poor, and religious minorities. Like you’ve built mosques in parks, but don’t have space for women to pray there, or faith spaces for other religious backgrounds.”
-Lisa from Rimsha Colony (pseudonym)
In addition to spaces for specific kinds of worship practices, Islamic symbolism is widespread in the city, as noted by another participant:
“They can write more general good statements rather than particularly Islamic ones. Like “faith, unity, discipline”. We have been seeing these statements since birth, so we’re used to it. But, we like it when we see symbolism from our religion, we become excited!”
-Lisa from Rimsha Colony (pseudonym)
Many of our walks revealed the deep-rooted gendering of spaces, which at times resulted in participants (and myself) feeling uncomfortable and unsafe. There were instances where men would approach us, stare at us, sometimes even follow some of the participants, or ask unnecessary questions with sexual undertones. These instances generated discussion of our personal experiences of unwanted sexual advances in public spaces around the city:
“I don’t know from where, but he stopped us to say that “you should become my friend” and asked my friend to leave so that he could talk to me alone, expecting me to stay there. Like right now we’re laughing. At that time, we were shaking because this was happening to us while we were walking to the market, thinking we’re doing something big going to the market alone…”
-Sarah from France Colony (pseudonym)
This experience speaks to the larger forms of sexual violence against women for just existing in public in the city and country at large. We visited some of the spaces where these incidents were reported, prompting us to critically unpack our visceral responses to being in public and sensing unwanted attention.
Informality was a central theme of participants’ experiences with marginalization and erasure from the city’s spatial and economic landscape:
“We visited so many informal settlements through this project and witnessed the helplessness, the dirty conditions, the lack of basic services etc. Despite all this, we are happy, we try to stay happy. Many rich, influential people come and go, we remain in these spaces. This city builds shopping malls, and other beautiful areas for the rich. Do we have the audacity to go to these spaces as well? All we witness here is their wealth. Yes, we have parks and public spaces, but we can’t even access them without having to pay large amounts in bus or taxi fares. For us to be able to feed our kids, is already a big task.”
-Maria from Rimsha Colony (pseudonym).
As both women and religious minorities, this group is subject to both threats of violence due to flawed blasphemy laws and the threat of sexual violence and harassment. These factors, coupled with the instability inherent to living in low-income, informal neighborhoods puts them at the bottom of the city’s stratified citizenry. However, a double standard is revealed when religious minorities from other countries, such as diplomats or guests of the government, receive a much warmer welcome. These temporary foreign visitors generally stay in large, highly developed diplomatic enclaves and their presence is accepted and even celebrated. The same monuments and structures that alienate Christian women from Pakistani national identity are where foreign visitors congregate, unknowingly reinforcing an exclusionary national myth through which indigenous spaces are erased, tall glass buildings are erected, and Quranic verses and quotes from Muhammad Ali Jinnah are inscribed, presenting a glorified version of Pakistan’s history and ambitions to the world.
Despite this, labeling “minority” and “majority” groups as in conflict with one another is misguided. While Islamabad’s social and political elite work to uphold a modern, Islamic, capitalist, clean, auto-dependent city that contrasts with the “chaos and filth” of the country’s older cities, it does so with its own set of chaotic informal processes that rely on the very populations they ostracize. Christian women from informal settlements who are subject to violence and displacement are the same people who engage in activities that are central to the smooth functioning of the city—keeping its streets clean, supporting diplomats in various day-to-day tasks, working as house help in elite neighborhoods, and running businesses that provide essential services. The planning authority that once deemed informal neighborhoods and economic activities an unlawful stain on Islamabad’s clean image can no longer deny their necessity, dedicating specific lots and contracts to these activities, providing they can be exploited for monetary gain. On the surface, there is disdain for communities who do not comply with Islamabad’s ideal citizenship from the city’s social and political elite, but as we dig deeper, there are informal agreements and allowances of alternative spaces that challenge Pakistan’s national ambitions yet represent its culture and various identities more authentically.
Christian women in informal settlements, despite facing multiple persistent threats, challenge dominant narratives of citizenship and carve out their own spaces in the city. They re-appropriate Islamabad’s intentional nation-building narrative by challenging the scale, history, representation, symbolism, and virtues instilled in the built environment for “ideal citizens” and tourists. While these “bottom-up” spaces are often outside the scope of the city’s formal planning apparatus, they represent communal place-making that is at the core of Pakistani culture.
Aabiya Noman Baqai is a PhD Candidate in the Community and Regional Planning program at the University of Texas at Austin.
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