Thread by @Hafsa_Khawaja

Speaking about female mobility, and this is going to be a long thread:

I’ve been wondering since a while why my newfound love for photography emerged in New York. Why do I find so much worth capturing here and why did I never find much worth capturing in Lahore?

Every picture I have captured here in NYC has been taken while I have been on my feet. Out and about, on the move, in the moment. Every picture I have taken here has been taken when I’ve had the chance to see it, to absorb the sights, to stop and stand to snap it.

I look through my gallery and there isn’t much of any of this from when I was in Pakistan. If I was ever out walking, which was always rare, the distances were always small and they were always mapped in a necessary hurry.

In a hurry to escape any crowds, to make a quick exit from the open and the public, in a hurry to accomplish whatever purpose I was out for. In a hurry to avoid any harm. Just do what you’re out for and get away.

Observing, sauntering, and loitering were far removed from this realm of reality. And to look freely felt like a luxury. Where could I look when I was too busy looking at & policing myself; too busy looking if my shalwar was too thin, if my legs were too obvious

if my dupatta was at the right level; too busy looking to avoid being devoured by the eyes and stares of men which burn right into your skin. I was too busy carrying my body as a burden, as a guilt to be managed, to be made invisible, whenever I was on my feet.

I was out less, and whenever I was, I was running while gathering and carrying every weighty thread of my body, a body which was an anomaly not meant to exist, not meant to be seen, and certainly not safe in a space designed, ruled and surveilled by men.

Whenever I was out, I was rushing to hide and protect this anomaly. Scuttling, scampering out of male vision, and in the process, scrambling past any vision I could have beheld myself too.

I had to get out out of the way, because I wasn't supposed to be there, and if I was, I wasn't safe.

I think of how much of New York I have experienced, how much of it I love by mere virtue of having been able to walk it. It was overwhelming and scary and there were times I struggled to find my footing. But there was ample ground here for it.

Ample ground for me to walk, freely and fully, ample ground for me to steady my steps, for me to whirl, for me sway, and for me to breathe. Ample ground, which has become the location of my strides, the site of many strengths I have attained, the many fears I have abandoned.

And I think of what a pity it is, what great sadness it gives me, that I have hardly experienced Lahore. Lahore, the city I was born in, the city I grew up in, the city where my community of belonging and care exists among family and friends.

I have hardly walked Lahore.

So maybe I never stopped to capture much in Lahore because I could never stop to capture it at all. Maybe I did take a lot of it for-granted, maybe I never bothered to look around much, but maybe I was also always running.

Maybe my feet were bound too.