If you consent, we and our partners can store and access personal information on your device to provide a more personalised browsing experience.
This is accomplished through processing personal data collected from browsing data stored in cookies. Squashed between other women with one leg dangling outside the bus, I keep my eyes peeled for the next available seat.
The makeshift seat on top of the hot engine is freeβI must move quickly to claim it. I climb onto the engine, take a breath, and wonder with frustration: why do we have to endure this undignified situation every day? Growing up without a car in Karachi, I became accustomed to the experience of using public transportβthe tumultuous G-7 local public bus to Karachi University was part of my daily routine.
Against the backdrop of this diverse tapestry, life in Karachi is chaotic and appears to be ruled by unpredictability, even though there is a sense of order to this madness. However, with a fragmented government, the development of an affordable mass transit system was not a priority, and traveling in crammed buses is still the typical way to commute.
This reality is not unique to Karachi. All over the world, navigating public space has never been easy for women. Having to dodge harassment and unsolicited attention is mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting. I have walked the roads, footpaths, and footbridges on my ownβbut never at ease. This makes me wonder: is this the only way? In her book Feminist City: Claiming Space in a Man-made World , feminist geographer Leslie Kern notes that feminist visions of a city are not a new ideal, but that they often go unnoticed.
