A Mother, A Father, A Fighter: The Untold Strength of Single Women
In Pakistan, where family portraits are expected to come with a father at the head of the table, the single mother remains a quiet defiance of tradition. Her story isn’t told often—not because it’s rare, but because it makes people uncomfortable. She exists in the spaces society forgets to look—picking up the pieces after a marriage ends, surviving the loss of a partner, or choosing to raise a child alone in a world that doesn’t know where to place her.
She wakes up every morning with a to-do list longer than her energy, steeling herself for a day that demands she be two people at once. She is the disciplinarian and the comforter, the breadwinner and the emotional anchor. At school gates, she stands beside couples and feels the stares that last a second too long. In family gatherings, her absence is noticed more than her presence. When people speak about her, it's often in hushed tones—“bechari” if she’s a widow, “buri aurat” if she’s divorced, “confusing” if she’s never married. Rarely is she seen for what she truly is: resilient, resourceful, and deeply brave.
She has learned to stretch every rupee, negotiate every utility bill, and balance the chaos of work with the chaos of home. In offices, she rarely brings up her challenges for fear of being seen as less committed. In neighborhoods, she keeps to herself to avoid unwanted curiosity. She protects her children from more than just the world outside—she shields them from the narrow-mindedness of extended family, the harshness of classrooms that don't understand, and the constant pressure to explain what they shouldn’t have to.
There are nights she breaks down quietly, sitting beside her child’s bed, wondering how long she can keep pretending she has it all figured out. But she wipes her tears before the morning, because she doesn’t have the luxury to fall apart. Society admires strength when it comes in the form of men, but hers is the kind that goes unnoticed—the kind that survives silently, without applause.
She doesn’t ask for special treatment. All she wants is the right to raise her children in dignity, without being questioned or diminished. She wants her child to be invited to birthday parties, not pitied for having “only one parent.” She wants to be seen as capable, not broken. And above all, she wants a world where her story isn’t whispered about, but respected.
There’s power in what she’s doing. She’s raising the next generation with love, discipline, and unwavering presence. She’s showing her child that family isn’t defined by numbers, but by care. That love doesn’t come in pairs, but in constancy. That strength isn’t loud, but unshakeable.
She is a mother. She is a father. She is a fighter. And she deserves to be seen—not as an exception, not as a tragedy—but as a reminder of what courage truly looks like.