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Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Pakistani women in comedy.

Pakistani women in comedy who?

That’s exactly the problem.

They say women aren’t funny, which is strange considering they’ve laughed at men’s comedy out of politeness for centuries. From wives are controlling to women are bad drivers, desi women have always been at the receiving end of terrible misogynistic jokes.

But here’s the thing — while men are busy recycling the same three punchlines at every family dinner and comedy event, Pakistani women are perfecting the art of comedy. From Instagram shorts and TikTok reels to stand-up shows, women comedians are literally grabbing the mic and proving that they’re wittier. After all, what’s funnier than beating men to the punchline and turning a nosy rishta aunty’s interrogation into a self-aware comedic bit?

For years, the stage has been set for men, while women were expected to play the role of the silent audience. Now, however, Pakistan’s women comedians are breaking barriers and proving that the best jokes aren’t about them, they’re by them.

This year for Women’s History Month, we asked four Pakistani women comedians how they’re changing the narrative and how future women comedians can excel in the field.

Faiza Saleem

Faiza Saleem paints a picture, “POV: You’ve consumed 2,000 calories at Iftar and are now trying to burn those calories but can’t move.” As the text remains on the screen she moves her body slightly to the beat of the viral song ‘Shik Shak Shouk’.

Q. What prompted you to pursue a career in comedy?

I was a theatre performer; even when I was in school, I would do theatre on the side. Then I started doing improv and standup comedy at the same time. I realised there were no social media content creators who were women, so I felt we needed that representation. In terms of social media, that’s how I started posting content online.

I started doing live comedy when I realised I was really funny. I was doing a theatre play at the Arts Council; it was a serious role, and I was quite bored with it myself, so I improvised a line, and the audience started laughing and clapping.

I enjoyed that so much because I feel like when you make someone laugh and they laugh with you, the eye contact you make with them, the feeling that you share with them is unparalleled. Nothing feels as exciting and as great as that. That’s when I decided, in 2011, to do comedy on stage, and later, I moved to social media.

Q. What are some challenges you face as a woman in comedy, particularly in Pakistan?

Just the fact that we have so many do’s and don’ts. We can’t get away with anything that our male counterparts can get away with, or even our female counterparts in countries like India — countries that are close to us and to our culture. They get away with so much more than we do. It’s a completely male-dominated industry, though there are a lot of female comedians now. But at the start, there was absolutely no one.

There were, of course, our legends, Bushra appa [Ansari] and Hina Dilpazeer, but they were doing a different genre of comedy — they were doing more mainstream TV comedy.

Even now, till date, it’s 2025, and I still find it very difficult to do TV and film because they don’t have good roles for women in comedy. Everybody feels like they have to prove that they are funnier than you. So even in real life, people try to outsmart you; they try to put you down for thinking that you’re funny, or ‘you think you’re funny? We’re funnier’.

On a personal level, on a professional level, and once you get to a [certain] place, to move further is tougher because you hit a glass ceiling of sorts where you’re think, okay, how much more mainstream can I get than this?

Q. Do you think audiences judge women comedians differently than men?

Of course, of course! Have you seen the difference in comments on social media? Of course, we can’t get away with anything that men can get away with. And I think, inherently, people don’t like believing that women can be funny. Women are supposed to be pretty or, you know, talented but not funny, funny.

People don’t want to believe that women can be funny. I don’t know why. I don’t know what the issue is with that. But people like women to be tamed.

Q. Do you have any advice for women starting out in comedy?

Just be consistent and know your voice and make sure that you value your voice and that you do something with that voice of yours.

I think women doing more and more comedy and creating new opportunities for other women in comedy is how their [future women comedians’] path will get easier. And then they will try to make the path easier for other women.

If we try and push each other more and name each other in places of opportunities, then I think we could all move forward together. Alone, I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to succeed in comedy in Pakistan or elsewhere.

I think there has to be teamwork and consistency.

Natalia Gul

“The Sindh police called me once and told me they were inviting me for an event. I asked them, ‘Will you give me money or take my money?’”

Q. What prompted you to pursue a career in comedy?

My journey into comedy began in childhood. I was always the class clown, mimicking people and finding humour in everyday situations. My family was incredibly supportive, which fuelled my passion. I was heavily involved in school plays and later transitioned to commercial theatre.

It was during this time that I was fortunate enough to be discovered by Faiza Saleem, who was recruiting women for Khawatoons. That’s how I was introduced to improv, and it naturally led me to explore stand-up comedy.

Q. What are some challenges you face as a woman in comedy, particularly in Pakistan?

Being one of the pioneers of women stand-up comedians in Pakistan has presented unique challenges. Early on, when a video of mine went viral, I faced a significant amount of cyberbullying and threats.

Beyond that, I experienced a tendency for audiences to sexualise my presence rather than focus on my comedic content. This sometimes led me to consciously downplay my appearance.

Most fundamentally, there’s the ongoing societal challenge of gaining full acceptance that women can be genuinely funny.

Q. Do you think audiences judge women comedians differently than men?

Absolutely. There’s a distinct double standard. Just as society has specific expectations for women’s behavior, those expectations carry over to the stage.

Women comedians are often judged more harshly for pushing boundaries or addressing unconventional topics. While male comedians might get away with more ‘obscene’ or edgy material, we often have to carefully craft our jokes to be palatable and gain acceptance.

Q. Do you have any advice for women starting out in comedy?

My primary advice would be to simply start. Don’t be discouraged by initial setbacks; like any skill, comedy takes time and practice.

Most importantly, learn to ignore the trolls and negativity. Focus on honing your craft and stay persistent. To make the journey easier, I believe having a supportive community of fellow female comedians would be invaluable.

Rabya A Rizwan

Rabya A Rizwan once aptly questioned, “I always think of the worst case scenario. How is that something even worse happens?!”

Q. What prompted you to pursue a career in comedy?

It was incidental. During the lockdown, a friend shared a link to an online workshop for standup comedy. I was working from home during that time and had a decent amount of free time on me, so I joined it and started enjoying it.

I enjoy making people laugh and see humour as a way to connect with others, and fortunately, I grew up around funny people, so I guess it was in me.

Q. What are some challenges you face as a woman in comedy, particularly in Pakistan?

Since stand-up comedy is still a growing industry in Pakistan, there aren’t many female comedians to look up to or learn from. In our society many people still believe that women should be modest and soft-spoken, making it harder to be accepted in a field that often requires boldness and satire.

The dilemma is when a male comedian makes edgy or dark jokes it is seen as witty, while a woman making similar jokes might be labeled vulgar.

Q. Do you think audiences judge women comedians differently than men?

Yes, sure. Audiences frequently perceive female comedians differently than male comedians, sometimes without realising it. There is still a persistent bias that expects women to be humorous in a specific way, perhaps more self-deprecating, less aggressive and more relatable rather than confrontational and edgy.

Q. Do you have any advice for women starting out in comedy?

Find your voice. Don’t try to fit into what you think comedy should be. Your unique perspective and experiences are your biggest assets.

Be consistent, and get up on stage as much as possible. The more you perform, the stronger your material and stage presence will become.

Some people still hold outdated views about women in comedy. Their opinions don’t matter — your talent and hard work do.

Lastly, comedy is a long game. Enjoy the process and celebrate the small wins.

Amtul Baweja

Early risers be like: Oh my god! You wake up after 12? Ew. Disgusting. Degenerates. Have you ever felt that these early risers have the aura that they’re better than everyone else?

Q. What prompted you to pursue a career in comedy?

First of all, it was the fact that I come from theatre, I started by doing plays. From there, I ventured into screen acting. I did web series, ads, short films and then naturally, as a performer, I questioned what I could do next. So I started dabbling in improv comedy, and frankly, I was so bad at it initially, but I knew that if I wanted to evolve as an actor and performer, it’s good to do improv because it helps you in so many other ways.

From there, I started making comedy videos, and then I also did standup comedy, so I think it was a natural progression for me.

Second, one of the biggest reasons I did comedy is the fact that as an actor in Pakistan, I was getting offered very traditional roles — the majority of them are very conventional, stereotypical roles: as a mother, as a sister, as a daughter. [It was a] very cookie-cutter black and white approach with no room to be experimental and no complex characters. I wanted to tell some different stories and play some different characters.

Now, I’m becoming a funny phupo [aunt] or a funny neighbour, or in my comedy videos, I’m becoming a milkman or a mechanic. I get to do so many characters, and I could never do that in acting because it’s so straightforward.

In improv and standup comedy, you get to tell your own truth. When you’re holding the mic in your hand you get to tell your own story that, ‘Hey, there’s women like me also. We don’t all wear shalwar kameez and dupatta and are in the houses. We do so many other things, we have different desires, different ambitions, different goals’.

It was really empowering for me to stand up on stage and do standup comedy. Even with improv, I got to play so many characters and get out of my shell, explore and also tell people that women exist in all kinds and ways. There’s no one way to be a woman.

The joke’s on you

In Pakistan, comedy, especially standup, continues to be a boys’ club, and while women are starting to carve their space, the mic is far from being equally shared. These women comedians are breaking barriers and proving that women are equally funny, if not funnier.

Between societal expectations, limited platforms and opportunities, and audiences and decision-makers still warming up to the idea of women comedians, there’s a long way to go. But if there’s one thing these women have shown, it’s that they’re not just here to laugh along — they’re here to be heard.