In the recently released 2024 Global Gender Gap Report by the World Economic Forum, Pakistan ranks 148 out of 148. This is not just a statistic — it is a mirror to our collective failure. It reveals a deeply systemic problem we have become far too comfortable brushing aside. Gender inclusion is not a side project or a CSR initiative. It is the bedrock of any nation hoping to build a sustainable, equitable, and economically resilient future.

And yet, we treat it as a development-sector theme to be picked up, dusted off, and highlighted only when the timing is right, when donors are watching or a proposal needs to sound empathetic. Our national obsession with innovation often skips over women entirely. We pursue blockchain pilots, crypto hubs, and AI accelerators with full force, claiming that Pakistan is on the move. But when it comes to gender inclusion — the most basic innovation of our time — we hesitate. We label it “soft.” We avoid it because it “won’t scale fast enough.” It gets deprioritized in strategy frameworks that chase speed and short-term impact.

The Karandaaz Financial Inclusion Survey (K-FIS) 2024, Karandaaz’s flagship study, paints a similarly bleak picture. Financial inclusion has increased from 8% in 2013 to 35% today — a notable leap. But scratch beneath the surface, and the gap between men and women is staggering:

• Only 14 percent of women in Pakistan have access to a full-service financial account, compared to 56% of men.
• Just 11 percent of women own a mobile wallet, compared to 48% of men.
• While 82 percent of men own a mobile phone, only 46% of women do.
• Despite the rise of fintech, 85 percent of Pakistanis still rely on informal credit sources like family or friends.

These numbers are not just data points. They are everyday barriers — silent exclusions that prevent more than 125 million women (over half our population) from fully participating in Pakistan’s economic and social fabric. These structural gaps show in ways that are deeply personal and relentlessly persistent. In many workplaces, commitment is still measured by constant availability; a silent equation that rewards those who are the last to leave, speak the loudest, or remain perpetually “on”. This standard rarely accounts for the disproportionate care responsibilities women shoulder outside the office.

Stepping out — for a school pickup, a parent-teacher meeting, or to nurse an infant — is often read not as balance, but as a lack of seriousness, even integrity. Decades into the debate on work-life integration, ambition is still too often defined in masculine terms: uninterrupted presence, linear progression, and singular focus.

I’ve felt these frictions firsthand. At one workplace, a male colleague — not hostile, just unthinkingly honest — once asked why I was so driven to earn more. “Isn’t what you have already enough?” he asked, casually. Behind that question was a deeply ingrained belief: that a woman’s income is supplementary, not essential; that her ambition is a luxury, not a right. It wasn’t just an offhand remark. It was a reminder of how women’s economic contributions are so often downplayed — and of the structural hurdles we’re expected to navigate in silence.

These biases are rarely shouted, but they echo loudly in decision-making rooms. They influence who is seen as “leadership material,” who gets mentored and who is quietly sidelined. Many women outperform, over-deliver, and overextend — managing teams and deadlines while simultaneously shouldering invisible labour at home. Yet the burden to prove their worth doesn’t ease. Instead, it resets, again and again. The message is subtle but persistent: you belong, but only if you keep re-earning your place.

For women in lower-income brackets, the stakes are even more acute. There’s less room for error, less flexibility, and even fewer safety nets. Every missed day of work, every hour lost to caregiving, carries a heavier cost. And while conversations about gender equity echo in boardrooms and policy circles, these women are often absent from both — excluded not just from opportunity, but from the very frameworks that define success and advancement.

It’s not enough to champion inclusion as a value. We need to fundamentally rethink how we define productivity, performance, and leadership. Our current systems too often reward a narrow, linear model of contribution — one that ignores the diverse, multifaceted lives many women lead. If we want meaningful change, we must build workplaces and economies that recognise caregiving not as a deviation from the norm, but as an integral part of the modern economic equation. Flexibility should not be a concession; it should be a design principle.

Zooming out, the case for equity is not only moral — it’s mathematical. Every time we dismiss small- scale interventions as too incremental to matter, we overlook the simple truth that millions are built one person at a time. One woman opening her first bank account. One woman starting a micro-business. One woman getting her first phone and using it to access mobile payments. These moments may seem modest in isolation, but they carry exponential potential — rippling across households, communities, and generations.

Structural transformation doesn’t begin with sweeping gestures. It starts with recognizing that every barrier removed, every assumption challenged, and every woman empowered adds up. And when that happens — not as an exception, but as a norm — the needle doesn’t just move. The whole system shifts.

The problem isn’t a lack of programmes. It’s the way we’ve institutionalized gender exclusion – by siloing it into development narratives rather than embedding it across every department, every product, and every policy. Inclusion can’t remain the domain of roundtables and pilot projects. It must be systemic. We need to stop framing women as passive “beneficiaries” of progress and start recognising them as
clients, contributors, and leaders in their own right.

It’s tempting to call this issue “too complex” to fix. I used to believe that, too. But since stepping into the work myself, I’ve come to see the truth: it’s not complexity that holds us back — it’s inertia. It’s the quiet apathy that tells us change must come in sweeping reforms or not at all. It’s the belief that if progress can’t be measured in millions, it isn’t worth pursuing.

But that mindset is not only flawed — it’s dangerous because every major transformation begins with a single step. Every empowered woman is not just a success story; she is a force multiplier. Behind her is a household that gains stability. Behind that household is a new trajectory for a community — and a ripple that can shape generations.

Yes, there have been efforts — some promising, others long overdue. The Benazir Income Support Programme (BISP) laid critical groundwork by reaching millions of low-income women with direct cash transfers. Its Kafaalat initiative built on this by introducing biometric verification and linking payments to bank accounts or mobile wallets — a significant step toward advancing financial inclusion in Pakistan. The State Bank of Pakistan’s Banking on Equality policy marked another milestone, encouraging financial institutions to adopt gender-inclusive practices and set measurable targets. Platforms like Karandaaz have piloted gender-intentional fintech and SME financing models. These initiatives prove what’s possible — but they are not, on their own, enough.

It must be built into the blueprint — not patched on later. Every organization, public or private, must audit its full value chain. Who designs the products? Who distributes them? Who has access — and who is left out? Gender must be considered at every step — from policy to execution, from funding to delivery.

When institutions stop asking whether gender fits into their strategy and start asking how they’ve excluded women by default, only then will we begin to move forward. We don’t need more slogans.

We need action. And we need accountability.

And we need to stop waiting for the million — and start counting the one.