Restricted, Yet Resilient: Fighting GBV and Funding Challenges"

Nadia, a woman of profound resolve and visionary aspirations, lived in her home amidst the energetic urban environment of Lahore. She had spent much of her childhood witnessing the

hushed anguish of neighbours, friends, and even relatives—women who bore the

invisible yet unbearable weight of domestic violence & emotional abuse. Nadia

grew up surrounded by unspoken stories of pain. She often overheard muffled

arguments through thin walls, saw neighbours with downcast eyes and bruises

hastily concealed beneath dupattas. The emotional abuse was even more

insidious—women silenced, their dreams dismissed, their worth reduced to

whispers. These moments etched themselves into Nadia’s heart, fuelling her

resolve to challenge the cycle of suffering that had become so normalized in

her community. It wasn’t just the bruises but the silence around them that

haunted Nadia. That silence had to be broken.

In her late twenties, with a heart

brimming with both fire and fear, Nadia founded *Roshan Ghar*—a grassroots initiative to

tackle domestic violence and emotional abuse. It began modestly, using her

family’s old house as a haven for women escaping abuse. Slowly, the word

spread, and with it came volunteers and stories of courage. Roshan Ghar became

more than a shelter; it symbolized hope.

But hope alone couldn’t sustain her

mission. Nadia sought funding and soon found international donors willing to

support her cause. Yet, what she thought was a triumph soon turned into her

greatest challenge. With every rupee she received came a list of restrictions—strings

so tightly woven that they choked the very vision she had. The donors insisted

that funds be allocated to training programs and workshops, but Nadia knew that

the most immediate need was the expansion of the shelter and providing urgent medical

care for survivors.

Her frustration grew with every

rejected proposal. She often found herself staring at long, bureaucratic

emails, feeling helpless. The donors, though well-meaning, operated from a

distance, with little understanding of her community’s unique struggles. Nadia

felt trapped between her lofty vision and the realities of navigating a rigid

funding system.

One day, a young woman arrived at

Roshan Ghar, her face swollen and her three-year-old son clinging to her side.

The shelter was already overcrowded, and there was no space left for new

arrivals. Nadia could only offer them a mattress in a corner of the dining

hall. That night, as she walked through the shelter’s cramped rooms, she felt

the sting of her limitations more sharply than ever. What good were workshops

if there wasn’t enough room for those who needed it most?

There were moments of despair when

she doubted herself. She wondered if she was in over her head, if her dream of a violence-free

community was a naïve ideal in the face of bureaucracy and systemic hurdles. Late at night, lying

awake in her modest room at Roshan Ghar, the voices of the women she couldn’t

fully help would echo in her mind. These were the moments when the weight of it

all bore down hardest.

But Nadia was also fiercely

resilient. Every setback stoked a defiance within her—a refusal to let anyone

else dictate the course of her mission. While frustration coursed through her

veins whenever donors’ priorities clashed with local realities, she channelled

it into creative problem-solving. There were also moments of quiet pride when

she managed to stretch her resources in ways no one thought possible or when

she saw a woman’s life take a hopeful turn thanks to Roshan Ghar.

Her emotions were not just about her

challenges, though—they were deeply tied to the lives she touched. She felt an

overwhelming sense of responsibility for the women who came to her, carrying

their pain, fear, and fragile hopes. There was joy in their small

victories—a child’s laughter returning, a woman finding her voice again. These moments reminded

Nadia why she started it all and filled her with gratitude, even as the broader

struggle continued. These moments of light amidst the darkness gave her the strength

to continue, even on the hardest days. They reaffirmed the importance of her

work and guided her decisions, ensuring she never lost sight of why she began

this journey.

Determined to push forward, Nadia

began rallying her community. She organized fundraisers that relied on local

support—a bake sale here, a charity event there. Slowly but surely, she began

raising enough money for the immediate needs of the shelter. At the same time,

she used the donor funds for what they permitted, finding creative ways to

tailor the workshops into programs that also helped women heal and build

resilience.

Through sheer grit and ingenuity,

Nadia learned to navigate the labyrinth of restrictions while staying true to

her mission. Over the years, Roshan Ghar grew—its walls expanded, its reach

extended. And though the struggle with funding never truly ended, neither did

Nadia’s determination. Her emotional connection to the cause ensured, that

every decision she made was thoughtful and intentional. When donors demanded

certain allocations, Nadia didn’t blindly comply—she sought ways to align their

priorities with the actual needs of her community.

She often told herself, “If I can’t change the system, I’ll find ways to work around it.” And she did. For every hurdle, she found a path, no matter how winding. She couldn’t erase all the frustrations or

barriers, but she could ensure that Roshan Ghar remained what she had always dreamed it would be—a place of light in the shadows.

Nadia’s emotions were not a liability but a compass, helping her navigate the complexities of her work. Her feelings of empathy, frustration, resilience, and joy shaped her actions and decisions,

ultimately allowing her to create meaningful and lasting change despite the odds.

Nadia’s emotional landscape was a tapestry of

highs and lows. She carried the heavy burden of frustration and doubt, but it was her unrelenting

hope and love for her community that ultimately defined her. It wasn’t easy,

but it was real, and it was hers.