A Shop of One’s Own
Still, a couple of women successfully handle what they proudly claim is “a man’s job,” as they slowly but steadily tread into the worlds of financial consultancy, real estate, and media management. Bazah Roohi, for one, remains the only female accountant in the vicinity, and also the most popular, among both men and women. Similarly, Farhat Affreedi runs her popular weekly Urdu publication, Sada-e-Pakistan, which has a circulation of 10,000 copies. But this kind of business hasn’t been easy for them. Affreedi, for example, asserts that this job would have been much more difficult if her brother weren’t the publisher and if they did not have male editors and reporters. With the men automatically in charge of interactions with people on the outside, Affreedi admits that her job becomes a lot less tedious and more fun. “They see either my editor who’s a man and then there’s my brother who’s the publisher” she explains. “When you see Sada-e-Pakistan, you don’t see me.” Her duties mainly consist of managing the four people who work with her in the office, editing articles, and overseeing the production and layout of the paper. Affreedi admits that she likes being “in the background” because it doesn’t expose her to the conservative community members of Little Pakistan, and the inevitable criticism that comes along with being a working mother and wife.
When she compares herself to accountant Bazah Roohi she readily admits that her job is a lot easier because an essential part of Roohi’s job is dealing with the community members. “I don’t face the same challenges she does,” she explains, “I get a lot more respect than her because I’m in the background.”
Asghar Choudhary, a male accountant whose firm is located on the same street as Roohi’s, says he strongly believes in a woman’s right to work and feels that like Roohi, more women from the community should step out of their homes and start working. Still, he maintains that the long lines outside Roohi’s office are not a true reflection of the success of her business or her skills. “I don’t understand why so many people are always seated at her office,” he says matter-of-factly. “ Because when you’re doing someone’s taxes and using a computer, you don’t let anyone wait. You come, give me your papers, I do what I have to do, and I hand them back to you and you’re gone. Why there are all these men sitting around her office all day, I don’t understand.” He also admits, with a smirk, that while he doesn’t know Roohi that well, he does happen to know a lot about her personal life.
Roohi says that she is tired of people disapproving of her Western attire, and some wondering why she’s still single, but now she has stopped listening. “How long is somebody going to talk about me?” she asks calmly “Five days? Maybe ten? They have to eventually shut up, right?”
While Roohi has been able to withstand the criticism over the past six years, such negative attention has been hazardous for some. Last year, two of Affreedi’s female friends went out of business. One of them closed down her boutique where she sold saris and ready-made shalwar kameez and re-opened it in Queens. Another one shut down her real estate firm and has started working for one in the city. Still, according to Affreedi these failures are not enough to scare newcomers away.
Many of these businesswomen have followed each other’s footsteps, and continue to inspire and advise others who are interested in beginning ventures of their own. Affreedi has successfully convinced two of her friends to back to college and complete their degrees, so they can find work more easily when they finish. When a the husband of one of Raheela’s friends would not allow her to go outside to work, Raheela encouraged her friend to open a clothing boutique in her basement. And for any woman thinking about setting up her own business, Bazah Roohi will give her financial advice, for free.
