KARACHI:
A few days ago, veteran actor Naumaan Ijaz decided to weigh in on a viral video of YouTuber Maaz Safdar gifting his wife a truck-sized bouquet. Most people online found the gesture amusing or sweet. Ijaz, however, turned it into a lecture, as he commented, “Dear sisters, please don’t start expecting this kind of nonsense from your boyfriend/ husband — now the poor innocent guys are going to suffer again.”
It was condescending, bitter, and steeped in a familiar tone, blaming women for asking “too much.” Women in Pakistan are certainly not expecting a truck-sized bouquet. This stunt by Safdar is clearly an exaggerated one, a common practice with influencers and vloggers in the post-MrBeast internet. It is clearly for the theatrics, and no average person expects to be treated like this, but seeing Ijaz’s comments, one is compelled to think that he must think of women as the most brainless creatures on the planet.
What women in Pakistan are expecting in reality is respect and basic human rights. According to the current Global Gender Disparity Report by the World Economic Forum, Pakistan has ranked last in terms of gender disparity ratios. While the Commission for the Status of Women has taken issue with the validity of its reporting of Pakistan, one cannot deny that the situation of women in Pakistan is dire. According to the same report, 90 per cent of women in Pakistan have faced some form of domestic violence. On that issue, Ijaz has but one thing to say — Let’s blame the victim!
On Me Too movement
In an interview with Iffat Omar in 2023, Ijaz said, “You can’t clap with one hand. It takes two.” He continued, “These things only happen as long as they’re allowed to happen. If you stop it right then and there, it won’t continue. So when it happened on the first day, you should’ve walked away — you should’ve left.”
But for those familiar with Ijaz’s career, it was hardly surprising. His interviews are often teemed with casual misogyny. In a viral clip from the same interview, he boasted about cheating on his wife: “I’m an actor and an intelligent man — my wife doesn’t find out.” Iffat asked, “And the ones you cheat with?”. He laughed, “Their husbands don’t find out either.”. She inquired, “Do they reciprocate?” and Ijaz responded casually, “Of course.”
The host laughed, saying, “I need to learn a few things from you.” No accountability. No discomfort. When this moment received massive backlash on the internet, he chalked it up as a joke. Humsafar actor, Atiqa Odho, rushed to defend him, “Trust you to joke about infidelity and people start to take it all so seriously — Keep smiling and exposing others’ petty-mindedness.”
This is how the industry works. One man crosses a line. Another powerful voice pats him on the back. The audience is scolded for reacting. It’s all a big joke, unless you’re the woman being mocked, lied to, or silenced.
In the same interview, when asked about the # MeToo movement, Ijaz dismissed it outright, weaving an elaborate narrative on why such things are detrimental to society. “If I see a girl who is 18-20 years old — and say, ‘You have that spark. I have this project coming, come over.'” According to Ijaz, the girl would then “tell her entire family and friends” in excitement and arrive expecting an opportunity. He adds that upon their meeting, if he feels that she isn’t a fit for the role, and tells her that he has a better project for her later, she will become disappointed and may weave false stories about him. He claimed, “People will use it as a weapon.”
When Iffat raised a valid point of having a witness or third person present in such meetings, Ijaz dismissed the idea of “protecting” himself: “No, no. What’s the point of a witness? Allah is a witness.” Such narratives border on unhinged behaviour. If one must bring Islam into it, even Islam calls for a third party to be present if an unrelated man and woman are meeting, or participating in a legally binding contract.
He closed the segment with the ultimate dismissal of the movement itself, “This MeToo, HeToo, SheToo — trust me, it is because of distance from religion.”
Slut-shaming and age-shaming
Of course, Ijaz isn’t alone. Khalilur Rehman Qamar has been using religion as a weapon for misogyny as a brand and a career strategy.
Earlier, he was involved in a “honey-trapping” controversy, with leaked recordings and inappropriate exchanges that raised eyebrows. One has to ask: What is a man doing alone in a woman’s house at night, while ranting about women’s “honour” on primetime TV? He claimed that he visited her in the wee hours of the night to give her the opportunity to work with him. Perhaps he and Ijaz need to take Iffat’s advice and have a witness to protect their so-called business meetings with young women. However, it seems that these meetings have no intention of being professional.
Qamar is remembered for calling Marvi Sirmed a “ghatiya aurat” on live television. Qamar has repeatedly shown disdain for women who challenge him. In another TV talk show in 2021, he lashed out on air again, this time at journalist Ailia Zehra during a talk show. Zehra tweeted, “Khalilur Rehman Qamar lost his marbles when I called him out over his hateful rhetoric. Called me a RAW agent and spewed sexist slurs.”
Still, he continues to write hit dramas. He’s invited to talk shows. He’s never been made to apologise, because anger sells, and women are disposable.
Faysal Quraishi, another big name in the industry, also had the audacity to age-shame Saba Qamar upon the release of her drama Fraud in 2022. He wrote a message on his socials, saying, “If she is 24 years old in the drama, then please make me 27 years old.” Ironically, Quraishi has been trying too hard for his age, appearing in roles for characters decades younger than him with female co-stars who often look like they could play his daughters.
The industry likes to pretend these are just opinions, different worldviews, and personal beliefs. But these public comments are not harmless. They’re cultural cues. And they’re echoed in the scripts we see on screen, where women are beaten, abused, gaslit, and somehow always end up asking for forgiveness.
Younger actors have learned from these veterans to deliver the same misogyny with confidence. Hosting a Ramazan transmission this year, Danish Taimoor, while seated beside his wife Ayeza Khan, discussed the topic of multiple marriages, stating, “I have the permission from God for four marriages. That I’m not availing it ‘for now’ is my decision.” Ayeza looked visibly uncomfortable. The audience clapped. And once again, the matter was brushed under the rug.
If there’s one story that ties it all together, abuse, denial, and rebranding, it is the story of Feroze Khan. In 2022, his ex-wife, Syeda Aliza Sultan, publicly accused him of domestic violence. Court documents revealed disturbing allegations, including repeated physical assault, threats, and emotional trauma. Photos shared by Sultan showed signs of bruising and injury, alongside a statement saying she feared for her and her children’s lives.
Despite the gravity of the accusations, Feroze walked away unscathed. No ban. No public censure. He was cast in new drama projects soon after. He has been hard at work building his new image, not as an abuser, but as a misunderstood soul. He has been making rounds in the media recently, cheerily boasting about his new marriage to his then-therapist. If Pakistan had any regulatory body or laws, psychologists and therapists, her license would have been taken away in an instant for gross malpractice.
This is not about one man or one controversy. This is about an entire culture where misogyny is not just tolerated, it’s rewarded. The public sees these moments and shrugs: “It’s just a joke,” and women are expected to laugh along, stay silent, or forgive.
It’s time to call it what it is, abuse of power, dressed as performance.
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