Today, as the world observes a day dedicated to women’s rights and awareness, I find myself grappling with a deeply unsettling reality. While the challenges faced by tribal women—including lack of healthcare, limited education, insecurity, and restricted access to necessities—are well-known, some archaic traditions continue to make their lives even more difficult.
One such tradition in Waziristan recently left me in utter shock. Just a few days ago, a woman in her fifties passed away, and when it came time to lay her to rest, she was buried in her parents’ graveyard—not beside her husband, with whom she had spent over three decades of her life.
Her parents didn’t even live in the same town; their village was at least three to four hours away. When I questioned my mother about why she wasn’t being buried in her husband’s family graveyard, her response stunned me.
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"In our traditions," she explained, "if a woman dies without having a son—or without any children at all—she is not buried in her husband’s graveyard. No matter how long she has been married, she will always be returned to her parents’ graveyard."
I was speechless.
As a child, I often heard a saying repeated by elder women:
"Thank God you’ve secured your place in your husband’s graveyard."
Back then, I thought this was just another phrase emphasizing the importance of sons in our society. I never imagined it had such a cruel reality behind it.
This practice has no religious foundation. I consulted local Islamic scholars, and they unequivocally rejected it. Islam does not dictate that a woman must be buried in her parents’ graveyard if she has no sons. There is no Hadith, no Quranic verse, nor any legal ruling supporting such a belief. In fact, after marriage, a woman’s husband becomes responsible for her well-being, including ensuring her dignified burial.
Even Pakistan’s legal system has no such provision stating that a childless woman must be buried with her parents instead of her husband’s family.
So why does this deeply unjust tradition persist?
A woman who spends thirty to thirty-five years caring for her husband, serving his family, and dedicating herself to his home—does she not even deserve a final resting place among them?
She is already denied many of her basic rights during her lifetime. Must she now also be denied a place in the very family she lived with until her last breath?
This practice is so deeply embedded in local traditions that people don’t even question it anymore. But when I saw it with my own eyes, I felt profound sadness. I cannot stay silent about it. I will continue to raise awareness until minds and perceptions change, because this is nothing less than an insult to women—that even in death, they are not granted dignity.
The Quran clearly states that children are a gift from Allah. He alone decides who will have sons, daughters, or no children at all. Why, then, must only women be punished for something beyond their control?
A woman in Waziristan already spends her life enduring taunts if she does not have children—especially a son. And then, even in death, she is denied a grave among her husband’s family? What kind of justice is this?
To the people of Waziristan, I ask:
Is a woman’s only purpose in her husband’s home to bear children?
Does she have no value as a daughter-in-law, as a sister-in-law, as a family member?
If she was brought into a home only to be a mother, then why do husbands expect her to serve their parents, siblings, and relatives throughout her life?
Islam teaches that a woman must be given respect and dignity—in life and in death. It is time for this inhumane tradition to end.
