In conversations about Pakistan’s economy, the role of women is often reduced to a passing mention of low participation rates. Yet beneath these statistics lies an entire world of invisible work that sustains households, fuels communities, and underpins the national economy. From domestic chores and child-rearing to home-based piecework and informal agricultural labour, women contribute extensively to the country’s productive life. What remains missing is recognition, measurement, and integration into broader economic planning.
The scale of this invisibility is striking. Pakistan’s female labour force participation hovers around 23 per cent according to the Pakistan Labour Force Survey, one of the lowest in South Asia. This figure, however, does not capture the millions of women who work outside formal systems of recognition. In rural areas, women account for over 70 per cent of agricultural labour, whether in harvesting, livestock care or food processing, yet few are counted as employed or remunerated in proportion to their contribution. In urban centres, countless women stitch garments, roll cigarettes, or assemble products from home for meagre piece rates, their work neither reflected in contracts nor in social protection frameworks.
Even within households, the absence of recognition is profound. Time-use surveys have shown that Pakistani women spend between 10 to 12 hours a day on unpaid domestic work, more than double the hours spent by men. Tasks such as cooking, cleaning, caring for children and elderly relatives, and managing household consumption are rarely categorised as “work” in official accounts, yet without them the formal economy would simply not function. The World Bank has previously estimated that if unpaid care work were monetised, it could account for up to 20 to 25 percent of GDP in developing economies. In Pakistan’s case, this would amount to tens of billions of dollars of unrecognised economic value.
The economic consequences of this invisibility are significant. By excluding unpaid and informal labour from policy frameworks, opportunities for productivity enhancement are lost. For instance, women engaged in agriculture often lack access to training, credit, and technology, which limits yields and perpetuates inefficiency. Similarly, home-based workers in textiles or handicrafts are often cut off from markets and face exploitative middlemen, earning only a fraction of the final product’s value. Without recognition in labour statistics, these groups rarely benefit from formal protections such as minimum wage laws, maternity benefits, or pension schemes.
This disconnect between contribution and recognition also shapes intergenerational outcomes. Women who spend their lives in unpaid or underpaid work often retire without savings or social security, relying entirely on family networks. Daughters raised in these households are more likely to replicate the same patterns of invisibility, reinforcing cycles of economic exclusion. Education is frequently touted as the solution, yet even educated women face barriers to formal participation.
Safe mobility is a critical but often overlooked barrier. In major cities, surveys show that harassment in public transport is a primary reason women decline or abandon formal work opportunities. Where buses or metro systems exist, they remain limited in coverage and often unsafe after dark. Ride-hailing services have provided some alternatives, but costs remain prohibitive for low-income workers. Without investment in safe, affordable, and reliable transport, women’s access to workplaces, markets, and educational institutions will remain restricted. Equally, the absence of safe public spaces— streets, parks, and community centres— discourages women from engaging in social and economic activity outside the home.
The question that lingers is whether Pakistan can afford to keep its invisible workforce on the margins. Economic resilience requires more than infrastructure projects and fiscal adjustments; it requires unlocking the full potential of its people. Women, whether in homes, fields, or workshops, are already contributing. The challenge lies in recognising that contribution, valuing it, and building systems that translate it into sustainable economic growth.
The debate is not only one of fairness but of macroeconomic necessity. Pakistan faces persistent fiscal strain, with a tax-to-GDP rati0o hovering around 10 percent and external obligations requiring sustained economic growth. Expanding women’s recognised and remunerated participation is one of the few levers available to significantly boost national productivity. The International Monetary Fund has estimated that raising female labour force participation to the level of men could increase Pakistan’s GDP by as much as 30 per cent over the long term. In a country struggling with balance-of-payments crises, this potential cannot be ignored.
Recognition, however, must go beyond slogans. Measuring women’s contribution through regular time-use surveys is a first step, ensuring unpaid work is reflected in national accounts. Legal frameworks must also evolve to extend protections to home-based and informal workers. Pakistan has taken some steps in this direction, such as the Home-Based Workers Policy in Sindh and Punjab, but implementation remains uneven and often lacks adequate funding. Expanding such measures nationwide could bring millions of workers into the ambit of social protection.
Equally important is investment in care infrastructure. Affordable childcare, elder care, and health services reduce the unpaid care burden that disproportionately falls on women and enable them to participate more fully in formal employment. Countries that have invested in such infrastructure have seen not only increased female participation but also improvements in early childhood outcomes and broader social cohesion. For Pakistan, where demographic pressures are acute, the long-term benefits could be transformative.
At the cultural level, the perception of work itself requires a shift. The assumption that only remunerated labour outside the home qualifies as “productive” undermines women’s contributions. Public campaigns, educational curricula, and workplace policies can all play a role in reshaping how work is understood. While policy must provide the scaffolding, societal attitudes ultimately determine whether women’s labour is valued or dismissed.
The question that lingers is whether Pakistan can afford to keep its invisible workforce on the margins. Economic resilience requires more than infrastructure projects and fiscal adjustments; it requires unlocking the full potential of its people. Women, whether in homes, fields, or workshops, are already contributing. The challenge lies in recognising that contribution, valuing it, and building systems that translate it into sustainable economic growth.
Until then, the paradox will remain: a country grappling with economic strain while overlooking one of its most significant sources of strength.
