In the bustling urban sprawl of Karachi, Nadia*, a dedicated young tutor, found her sense of safety shattered not by a stranger in a dark alley, but by a familiar face and a glowing smartphone screen. What began as a series of seemingly innocuous WhatsApp messages from a long-time neighbor quickly spiraled into a nightmare of invasive harassment. For Nadia, the digital space, once a tool for her professional livelihood, became a claustrophobic trap. Like thousands of women across Pakistan, she felt the paralyzing weight of uncertainty—unsure of where to report the digital intrusion and terrified of the social stigma that often follows women who speak out against harassment.
The transition from digital stalking to physical violence was swift and devastating. One afternoon, the neighbor forced his way into Nadia’s home, transforming his online obsession into a brutal physical assault. “He overpowered me,” Nadia recalls, her voice reflecting a journey of immense pain and hard-won resilience. “I was paralyzed by fear and blacked out.” When she finally regained consciousness, she was in a hospital bed, facing a world that had been irrevocably altered. However, unlike many survivors who find themselves lost in a labyrinth of insensitive police questioning and fragmented medical care, Nadia was steered toward a new frontier in Pakistani jurisprudence and social support: the Anti-Rape Crisis Cell (ARCC).
Nadia’s experience is a microcosm of a much larger, systemic crisis. The digital landscape in Pakistan has become a primary battlefield for gender-based violence. Over the last five years, an estimated 1.8 million women in the country have fallen victim to cyber-crimes, ranging from blackmail and non-consensual sharing of private images to relentless stalking. Despite the prevalence of these crimes, the path to justice remains obstructed; only a staggering 3.5 percent of perpetrators are ever convicted. Data from the Digital Rights Foundation’s 2023 report highlights the scale of the issue, noting that of the 2,473 complaints received by their helpline, nearly 60 percent were from women, with WhatsApp and Facebook serving as the primary platforms for abuse.
While Pakistan’s Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA) of 2016 was designed to criminalize these acts—imposing penalties of up to three years in prison and heavy fines—the reality on the ground is hampered by weak enforcement and a deep-seated cultural stigma. For many women, the fear of “honor” being tarnished outweighs the hope for legal retribution. This environment of impunity often emboldens harassers, leading to the kind of escalation that Nadia experienced. The gap between the law on paper and the protection of women in practice has long been a chasm into which survivors disappear.
The turning point for Pakistan’s legislative approach to sexual violence came in 2020, following a horrific gang rape on a major motorway. The public outcry was intensified by victim-blaming comments from high-ranking officials, sparking a nationwide demand for systemic change. This collective rage culminated in the Anti-Rape Act of 2021. This landmark legislation was not just about harsher penalties; it was about restructuring the survivor’s journey through the state system. It mandated the creation of Anti-Rape Crisis Cells—specialized units designed to provide a “one-stop” solution for survivors.
The first of these cells was established in Karachi in 2023, a collaborative effort between the Government of Pakistan, UN Women, and the U.S. Embassy’s Office of International Narcotics and Law Enforcement (INL). These ARCCs are strategically located within government hospitals and are directly linked to police reporting centers. They operate on a simple but revolutionary premise: a survivor should not have to travel to multiple locations to receive medical care, give a police statement, undergo forensic testing, and seek psychological counseling. By bringing these services under one roof, the ARCC model minimizes the “re-traumatization” that often occurs when a survivor is forced to recount their ordeal to various disconnected officials.
For Nadia, the ARCC was more than a medical facility; it was a sanctuary. “For the first time since the attack, I felt I wasn’t alone,” she says. The integrated approach ensured that her forensic evidence was collected with the necessary sensitivity and technical precision required for a strong legal case, while simultaneous psychological support helped her process the trauma. “The Anti-Rape Crisis Cell gave me my voice back. I have the strength to demand justice—not just for me, but for every woman who has been silenced.”
The necessity of such facilities is underscored by chilling statistics. According to the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, 6,624 rape cases were registered in 2023 alone—averaging one rape every 45 minutes across the country. Yet, these numbers are widely believed to be an undercount, as many cases go unreported due to social pressure and a lack of faith in the judicial process. Historically, the failure of the legal system has been attributed to inadequate police investigations, poor forensic preservation, and a lack of specialized training for prosecutors.
Chaudhary Muhammad Jahangir, Director General of the Centre for Professional Development of Public Prosecutors, points out that the weakness of a case often begins at the very start. “In many cases, medical and legal officers are not properly trained on drafting reports,” he explains. This technical failure often leads to the acquittal of perpetrators on procedural grounds. The ARCCs are designed to close this gap by staffing the units with specially trained medical and legal professionals who understand the nuances of sexual assault evidence and the legal requirements for a successful prosecution.
The success of the Karachi pilot has led to a rapid expansion of the program. By 2024, six ARCCs were operational in major urban centers including Islamabad, Lahore, Multan, and Rawalpindi. In just one year, these cells provided essential services to 437 survivors, a significant number of whom—219—were children. This data reflects the growing trust in the ARCC model and its ability to provide a dignified pathway to recovery and justice.
Dr. Summaiya Syed, the Chief Police Surgeon in Karachi and a pivotal figure in the implementation of the cells, describes the shift as transformative. “The concept of the crisis cell brings together all essential services—medical and psychological support, evidence collection, forensic analysis, and legal aid—ensuring survivors receive justice with dignity,” she states. This integration is crucial in a society where the mere act of entering a police station can be a source of immense shame for a woman. By placing the initial reporting and evidence collection within a medical environment, the ARCCs provide a more neutral and supportive atmosphere.
Jamshed M. Kazi, the UN Women Representative in Pakistan, views these cells as symbols of hope and resilience. Their expansion is a key component of Pakistan’s broader commitment to the Beijing+30 goals, an international framework aimed at advancing gender equality. As the global community observes the “16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence,” the ARCCs serve as a practical example of how institutional reform can create tangible change. The theme of this year’s campaign, highlighting that there is “No Excuse” for online or physical abuse, resonates deeply with the mission of these cells.
The impact of the ARCC on Nadia’s life has been profound. Her perpetrator was arrested and charged under the Anti-Rape Act, and while the legal proceedings continue, the power dynamic has shifted. Nadia is no longer a victim defined by her trauma; she has returned to her work as a tutor and has stepped into the role of an advocate. She now uses her experience to guide other survivors toward the resources they need, breaking the cycle of silence that once held her captive.
“No woman should ever endure what I went through,” Nadia says with conviction. “But if they do, I want them to know they are not alone.” The journey toward ending sexual violence in Pakistan is long and fraught with cultural and systemic hurdles, but the establishment of Anti-Rape Crisis Cells represents a fundamental shift in the state’s responsibility toward its citizens. By prioritizing the dignity and well-being of the survivor, Pakistan is beginning to build a system that doesn’t just process cases, but actually delivers justice.
As the ARCC model continues to scale, the focus remains on ensuring sustainable funding, rigorous training, and widespread public awareness. The goal is to ensure that every woman, regardless of her location or social standing, has access to the same level of care and legal support that Nadia received. In a country where the digital and physical worlds are increasingly intertwined, these cells provide a necessary bulwark against the tide of violence, offering a roadmap for a future where survivors are empowered and perpetrators are held to account.
*Name has been changed to protect the survivor’s identity.
