Every single day in Punjab, an average of 85 women wake up not knowing if they will make it through the day without being assaulted, harassed, or violated.
In just the first six months of 2025, more than 15,000 cases of violence and harassment against women were reported across the province. Behind each of those “cases” is a woman, a family, a life split open by fear and trauma.
These numbers, compiled by the Sustainable Social Development Organisation (SSDO) in its bi-annual Violence Against Women Punjab 2025 factsheet, are not just statistics. They are a mirror, held up to a society that insists women are “respected” while quietly normalising the violence they endure.
15,000 Cases in Six Months: More Than a Statistic
Over 15,000 reported cases in half a year – that is not a law-and-order glitch; it is a crisis.
SSDO notes that the sheer number of cases reflects both the scale of violence and an improvement in reporting mechanisms. More survivors are finding the courage to come forward, despite deep cultural stigma and institutional resistance.
At one level, that’s a sign of progress: women are no longer suffering entirely in silence. At another, it’s a damning indictment. If 15,000 is what we can see, how much remains hidden beneath shame, fear, and distrust of the system?
Law on Paper, Impunity in Practice
On paper, Pakistan’s legal framework for women looks “decent,” said, Nida Aly, Executive Director of the Asma Jahangir Legal Aid Cell (AGHS). There are gender-centric laws, special courts, dedicated prosecutors, investigation units, and anti-rape crisis cells.
But laws don’t protect people if they die in files.
Aly points to a brutal disconnect between what is promised and what is practised:
- Police often refuse to even register FIRs. Survivors are turned away, shamed, or pressured into “compromise.”
- When cases are registered, investigations are incomplete or mishandled, weakening them from the start.
- Prosecutors fail to present strong, survivor-centred cases that can withstand cross-examination and bias.
- Judges frequently lack gender sensitivity. They may struggle with basic concepts such as consent, trauma, or coercion.
In one recent AGHS case, a rape accused was sentenced to 14 years. But even in this rare instance of accountability, Aly recalls how the judge struggled to grasp the idea of consent. It was only because a well-trained lawyer insisted on the survivor’s perspective that justice was secured.
Convictions in rape cases have risen from a shocking 2.5% to 5% after new anti-rape laws – an improvement, but still devastatingly low. For many survivors, that statistic sends a clear message: the system is a gamble, and the odds are not in their favour.
When shame, social pressure, and the fear of being disbelieved meet a justice system that delivers so rarely, it becomes easier for families to say: “Chup raho. Forget it. Don’t ruin your life by going to court.”
Daily Violence Across the Province
The SSDO data lays out a chilling daily breakdown for the first half of 2025:
- 9 women are raped every day
- 51 women are kidnapped daily
- 24 women are subjected to domestic violence daily
These are only the reported cases.
Add to that the women killed in the name of “honour,” those trafficked, and those stalked or blackmailed online. The factsheet tracks the entire legal journey of such cases – from investigation to trial, from conviction to acquittal or withdrawal – and the gaps are stark.
Every time a file is closed without justice, it sends a signal not just to the survivor, but to the perpetrator: You can get away with this.
Lahore and Beyond: Districts Bearing the Brunt
Punjab’s capital, Lahore, emerges as a hotspot not of opportunity, but of vulnerability.
In just six months, Lahore reported:
- 340 cases of rape
- 3,018 kidnappings
- 2,115 cases of domestic violence
It also recorded one of the highest numbers of honour killings in the province.
But this is not just an “urban” issue or a “rural” issue. Other districts – Multan, Gujranwala, Sialkot, Kasur, Toba Tek Singh, Nankana Sahib – show consistently high levels of violence. Semi-urban belts, often caught between traditional norms and rapid social change, are particularly exposed.
The geography of violence reminds us: no region can claim moral superiority. The problem is not confined to remote villages or “uneducated” pockets. It is spread across homes, streets, workplaces, and institutions.
Hidden Crimes: When Silence Fills the Gaps
Some types of violence barely appear in official data, not because they don’t exist, but because they are hard to see or easy to dismiss.
- Cyber harassment was recorded in only five districts: Okara, Sheikhupura, Layyah, Pakpattan, and Gujrat.
This doesn’t mean the rest of Punjab is free of online abuse. It points to limited access to digital complaint systems, lack of awareness, and a tendency to belittle online harassment as something “not serious” or “part of social media.” - Trafficking cases were concentrated in Muzaffargarh and Pakpattan, hinting at specific regional vulnerabilities that remain poorly understood and under-addressed.
Even more alarming are the districts that provided no data at all.
When Data Vanishes, So Does Justice
Several districts – including Bahawalnagar, Bahawalpur, Chakwal, Chiniot, Dera Ghazi Khan, Faisalabad, Hafizabad, Narowal, Rahim Yar Khan, Rajanpur, Rawalpindi, Sahiwal, and Sargodha – failed to submit the required data, according to SSDO.
Punjab police did not provide these figures despite repeated instructions.
This is not just a bureaucratic lapse; it is a form of erasure.
When data is missing:
- Survivors become invisible to policymakers.
- The scale of the crisis is underestimated.
- Resources are misallocated.
- Public trust erodes further.
You cannot fix what you refuse to count.
Without accurate provincial crime records, any talk of “progress” risks becoming cosmetic. A system that cannot even measure violence accurately cannot be expected to meaningfully confront it.
Domestic Violence: A Law That Took Years to Wake Up
Domestic violence is one of the most pervasive yet least reported forms of abuse, often dismissed as a “private matter.”
Punjab passed its domestic violence law in 2016. But it took six years just to notify and operationalise it across the province.
Six years in which countless women were beaten, terrorised, and coerced inside their homes, while the law meant to protect them remained dormant.
Even after notification, Aly notes:
- Many judges were unaware of the law or unsure how to apply it.
- Family courts were already overwhelmed with other cases.
- Implementation remained painfully slow.
- Public awareness about rights, protection orders, and remedies stayed low.
For a survivor trapped in an abusive home, every delay is not just a procedural problem – it can be the difference between life and death.
Religion, Misinterpretation, and the Battle for Change
One of the most dangerous shields for abuse is the misuse of religion.
Aly pushes back firmly against narratives that suggest Islam permits violence against women. She stresses that Islam does not allow cruelty, especially toward women, and that misinterpretations must be challenged through legal literacy and accountability.
Her intervention matters because many survivors are silenced in the name of religion – told that patience is piety, that speaking out is sin, that obedience is their only virtue.
At the heart of her message is a powerful principle: justice is not about the harshness of punishment alone, but about the certainty of consequences.
If perpetrators believe they can walk free – because police won’t register cases, trials will drag on, judges won’t understand, or families will be pressured into “compromise” – then the cycle of violence continues.
Why Survivors Don’t Report – And Why That Must Change
Consider what the system currently offers a woman who has been raped, beaten, stalked, or harassed:
- A police station where she may be shamed or disbelieved.
- A court process that, in theory, should take four months but often stretches to fifteen.
- Courtrooms where gender sensitivity is rare, and her character may be put on trial instead of the perpetrator’s actions.
- Social stigma that may mark her – not the abuser – for life.
In that context, Aly’s question is painfully simple:
If this is what awaits a survivor, why would she report at all?
Yet, the growing number of reported cases shows that women are still trying – still choosing courage in the face of fear. They are doing their part. The question is whether the state, the justice system, and society will do theirs.
A Call for Urgent, Collective Action
SSDO’s factsheet doesn’t just expose a crisis; it outlines what needs to be done.
To truly confront gender-based violence in Punjab, the response must be immediate, coordinated, and sustained:
- Strengthen reporting and referral systems so that every woman knows where to go and is treated with dignity when she gets there.
- Build the capacity of police and investigators, with mandatory, ongoing gender-sensitivity and trauma-informed training.
- Ensure trials are timely and survivor-centred, respecting the four-month timeline instead of stretching cases over years.
- Invest in shelters, legal aid, and psychosocial support, so survivors are not forced to choose between safety and survival.
- Train judges and prosecutors in gender justice, consent, and the dynamics of abuse, so that prejudice does not masquerade as legal reasoning.
- Enforce transparency and compliance with RTI laws, compelling districts and police to release accurate, complete data.
- Promote legal literacy and community awareness, challenging harmful norms and misinterpretations of religion that justify violence.
At its core, Aly’s stance is clear: the burden of sexual and gender-based violence must fall on the perpetrator, not the survivor.
Beyond Numbers: Choosing What Kind of Society We Want
Eighty-five women a day.
Nine raped.
Fifty-one kidnapped.
Twenty-four beaten at home.
These are not just numbers on a factsheet. They are a daily referendum on what kind of society Punjab is – and what it is willing to tolerate.
The women of Punjab are already speaking, reporting, resisting, and demanding justice. The question now is whether those with power – in police stations, courtrooms, ministries, and homes – will listen.
Because until every survivor can step forward without fear, until every perpetrator knows there will be consequences, and until every institution treats violence against women as an emergency and not an inconvenience, these numbers will keep rising.
And behind each one will be a life we failed to protect.