Everything I learned as a young woman using Careem's bike-sharing service
I am a 28-year-old single woman, born and brought up in Gulistan-e-Jauhar, a residential area of Karachi that largely houses upwardly mobile yet traditionally conservative middle-class families.
This may be a generalisation but families like mine expect women to get an education but remain well within the bounds of patriarchal norms. Dupattas, for example, are a must. When we seat ourselves on motorcycles, our back rolls and heavy bottoms must not burst through our shirts, the chaaks of which are carefully placed in a way to hide our thighs in our shalwars. We sit with our legs crossed as if we're sitting on a sofa in our drawing room. You know, 'like a lady'.
We're largely dependent on our brothers, fathers or paid drivers to take us around this city. Sometimes, we take rickshaws. Other times, we have to ask for permission and/or money, so we can pay for a Careem ride and get on with our lives.
So it's naturally a struggle when you force yourself to defy the norm and sit on a motorbike the way men sit (I call this way of sitting the 'normal' way).