I began writing and speaking publicly about dowry-related violence at a time when it was still dismissed as a private family issue or an unfortunate cultural excess. Over more than three decades of sustained advocacy, policy engagement, and public writing, my position has remained consistent: dowry is not tradition, generosity, or celebration. It is a system of coercion that enables domestic abuse, entrenches inequality, and silences women within marriage.

What has changed over the years is not the practice itself, but the way society talks about it. Dowry is no longer openly defended. Instead, it is denied. We tell ourselves it no longer exists, that education and urbanisation have taken care of it, or that it survives only on the margins. This denial has not reduced harm; it has merely allowed it to continue unchecked.

Dowry has not disappeared. It has adapted. It now hides behind softer language, gifts, expectations, standards, what is customary. It appears in lavish weddings that celebrate excess while concealing the pressure, debt, and bargaining that precede them. When families deplete savings, sell assets, or take loans to meet unspoken demands, and when a woman’s value is measured by what accompanies her into marriage, violence has already taken root, long before it becomes visible.

For decades, I have argued that dowry must be understood as part of a continuum of domestic violence including sexual and gender-based violence. It often begins with demands and comparisons, escalates into emotional abuse and economic control, and in many cases culminates in physical violence. This progression is neither random nor rare. It is documented repeatedly in survivor testimonies, court cases, and human rights reporting across Pakistan and South Asia.

One of the most persistent myths surrounding dowry is that it is voluntary. The reality is far more coercive. Families comply under pressure—fear of social exclusion, fear of a daughter being labelled “unmarriageable,” fear of stigma that can last a lifetime. Women are rarely consulted, and when they resist, they are accused of being difficult or disruptive. Calling this choice is a convenient distortion that shifts responsibility away from those who benefit from the system.

Pakistan has laws that prohibit dowry-related demands and recognise domestic abuse. Yet enforcement remains weak, and accountability inconsistent. Legal remedies are often reactive rather than preventive, and many cases never reach formal systems due to social pressure, lack of support, or fear of retaliation. Advocacy efforts, while visible, frequently stop at symbolism—statements without sustained follow-through, legislation without monitoring, and outrage that fades once public attention moves on.

What we are reluctant to confront is how deeply invested society is in maintaining this arrangement. Dowry fuels wedding-related industries, reinforces class hierarchies, and legitimizes male entitlement within marriage. Lavish weddings are celebrated as success stories, while questioning their social cost is treated as disruption. Silence is equated with harmony, and endurance with virtue.

Over the years, I have seen responsibility repeatedly shifted onto women: adjust more, negotiate better, stay quiet for the sake of stability. Survivors are expected to absorb harm to preserve families and reputations. This is why so much abuse remains invisible, and why justice, when pursued, is slow, uncertain, and emotionally costly.

Dowry cannot be separated from broader patterns of control over women’s lives. It intersects with early marriage, economic dependency, reproductive coercion, and restrictions on autonomy. Treating it as a minor social issue rather than a form of abuse allows denial to function as policy. We mourn extreme outcomes while continuing to protect everyday practices that make them possible.

After more than thirty years of work in this space, one conclusion is unavoidable: dowry-related violence will not end through denial or cosmetic reform. It requires naming harm honestly, refusing to romanticise exploitation, and holding families, communities, markets, and institutions accountable not only when violence becomes fatal, but when demands are first made.
Dowry, abuse, and denial are not separate problems. They reinforce one another. Until we confront all three together, progress will remain superficial, birth of girls will remain unwelcomed and women will continue to pay the price of marriage in silence.

Dr. Rakhshinda Perveen, founder of the Fight Against Dowry Advocacy Network (FADAN), is a prominent women’s rights activist, intersectional feminist, policy advocate, and writer with over three decades of engagement on gender justice in Pakistan. Her work has focused on violence against women and girls, dowry-related abuse, reproductive rights, and women’s political and economic participation. She writes extensively on issues of power, accountability, and inequality, and has contributed to national and international policy and advocacy spaces. This is her special contribution for IBC English.