I first watched The Help when I was fourteen, and at the time, I took it as another historical film about race relations in the U.S., a reminder of the injustices Black women faced during segregation in 1960s Mississippi. It was only years later, as I became more aware of my surroundings and the dynamics within my own society, that I began to draw deeper connections between the film and the realities of the domestic workers in Pakistan—primarily women—who occupy a similarly marginalized space, though in different historical and cultural contexts.
Both contexts share a common, albiet, painful thread: women from lower socioeconomic backgrounds—whether Black women in America or poor South Asian women in Pakistan—are burdened by the labor of care, reproductive work, and servitude, while their humanity is systematically denied. Watching The Help again with a more critical lens, I found myself grappling with how eerily familiar the scenes of racial exploitation, gendered oppression, and emotional labor felt when I compared them to the treatment of domestic workers I see in Pakistan.
Background: The Feminist and Historical Landscape in Pakistan and The Help
The Help is a film that centers on Black maids like Aibileen and Minny, who, despite the critical roles they play in maintaining the homes and lives of white families, are treated as disposable and to some extent, even sub-human. These women, dehumanized by racial hierarchies, are required to perform the labor of care and domesticity while being excluded from the very humanity of the homes they maintain. Aibileen, for instance, raises children who will one day look at her with the same disdain and superiority their parents do. Her labor—physical, emotional, and maternal—is expected, yet invisible.
This invisibility of labor resonates deeply with the situation in Pakistan, where domestic workers, predominantly women from rural areas, perform similar forms of reproductive and emotional labor for their employers. Often treated as second-class citizens within the very homes they serve, these women are relegated to back rooms, given food in separate dishes, and treated with a lack of basic respect and dignity. Here, the hierarchy is less racial and more rooted in class and economic privilege, yet the dynamics of power and oppression are strikingly similar.
In Pakistan, the feminist movement has long grappled with the intersections of class and gender. On the one hand, middle- and upper-class women in urban centers have made strides in gaining economic and social freedoms—pushing boundaries in education, the workforce, and even political representation. But the very foundation of these advancements rests on the backs of poorer women who take over the burdens of domesticity, cleaning, and childcare. The dual burden that upper-class women once carried—balancing public work with private responsibilities—is offloaded onto their maids and nannies, who themselves have little recourse to economic or social mobility.
Here, I am reminded of Judith Butler’s theory of gender performativity, which posits that gender roles are enacted and reinforced through repeated behaviors. In Pakistan, I see how domestic workers perform the role of the "invisible nurturer," expected to embody a form of femininity that is docile, nurturing, and self-sacrificing, while never stepping into the public sphere or receiving recognition. They perform these roles because their economic reality forces them to, but they also learn to embody these expectations as part of their daily existence.
Scene-by-Scene Comparison of Intersectional Oppression in The Help and Pakistan
There is a scene in The Help that has always stayed with me: Aibileen sits in the nursery, caring for a white child who loves her unconditionally. She cradles the child in her arms, offering warmth, yet the stark contrast between this intimacy and the cold, detached way her employer views her is haunting. Aibileen is part of the family, but not quite; her emotional labor is needed, but her humanity is not fully acknowledged.
I think of the women I have seen in Pakistan, caring for children who cling to them as mothers. Often, these women spend more time with the children they care for than their own, but they are viewed as outsiders—necessary, yet unworthy of the privileges they help create. These women bear a similar emotional burden, raising children who will one day be taught to see them as inferior. This speaks to Foucault’s theory of power relations, where power is not only exercised through overt control but through subtle, everyday interactions that reinforce hierarchy and oppression. These women are watched, controlled, and kept in a position of subordination, not just by their employers but by the larger societal structures that devalue their labor.
In another memorable scene, Minny fights back against Hilly’s cruelty by baking a special ‘poop’ pie. Her act is one of reclaiming power in a system that denies her any real agency. In Pakistan, I have seen similar acts of defiance by domestic workers, whether it’s through small gestures of resistance or quiet acts of rebellion. If I apply this resistance to my home, they do surface in minor ways: delaying service, fighting back when scolded, sleeping in—all moments are very corporate like in mature, yet, much like in The Help, these moments are fleeting and often come with heavy consequences. The power of the employer remains largely intact, and the workers’ agency, while real, is constrained by the overwhelming weight of economic dependency.
The Role of Class in Pakistan
The relationship between upper-class women and domestic workers in Pakistan is one of complicity and conflict. On one level, women from higher socioeconomic backgrounds benefit from the feminist gains that have allowed them to enter the public sphere, but they do so by passing on the burden of domestic work to those less fortunate. It is a complex form of patriarchal complicity, where the privilege of some women is built on the exploitation of others. In The Help, we see how white women like Hilly are both oppressed by patriarchal structures and yet perpetuate those very structures by enforcing racial and gendered hierarchies in their own homes.
In Pakistan, the feminist movement must reckon with this same reality. The struggle for gender equality cannot be divorced from issues of class and labor exploitation. As feminists like Nighat Said Khan have pointed out, there is a need for a more inclusive feminism in South Asia—one that addresses the exploitation of poorer women and acknowledges the ways in which privilege can blind us to the suffering of others.
In The Help, the white women are able to maintain their societal roles by outsourcing their domestic burdens to Black maids. In Pakistan, the situation is no different: upper-class women are able to pursue careers and enjoy social freedoms by passing on the "dual burden" of housework and childcare to domestic workers. But what does it mean for the feminist movement when some women are liberated at the expense of others? How do we address the uncomfortable reality that women, too, can perpetuate patriarchal oppression?
Towards an Intersectional Feminism in Pakistan
The parallels between The Help and the lives of domestic workers in Pakistan are undeniable. Both groups of women navigate a world that seeks to devalue their labor, reduce their humanity, and confine them to the margins of society. But in both contexts, there is also resistance—whether through small acts of defiance or through the quiet dignity with which these women carry out their work.
As I reflect on this, I realize that the feminist movement in Pakistan must become more intersectional if it is to be truly liberating. It must address not only the patriarchy that oppresses women as a whole but also the ways in which class, caste, and economic inequality create divisions among women. We cannot advocate for gender equality without acknowledging the exploitation of the very women who make our own freedoms possible.
Much like the maids in The Help, domestic workers in Pakistan are seen, but never truly seen; they are heard, but never listened to. It is time to center their voices and recognize that their struggle is not separate from our own, but deeply intertwined with it. Thus, movements such as the Aurat March and organizations like the National Commission on the Status of Women should adopt a more proactive approach to humanize and acknowledge this invisible labor at the macro level and introduce initiatives that strive to change individualistic thinking to tackle the oppression at the micro scale as well. Change demands reflection and action at the very grassroots, and it is only by acknowledging our own intersectional privilege that we can holistically deal with gender issues around us.
I really loved how you have done the analysis through class comparisions between the upper class women and the house help our country. Even if we see in our households, house help has a different level of status because they come from a different socio economic background in terms of religion, race, class and hence, in Pakistan we have categorised them in this even though they are also employed here along with us.
Your article provides a thought-provoking analysis into the plight that domestic workers go through and all of the power and class imbalances that surround it. Through your blog, I've found that the despite the film being an American production, the problems that they depict are universal and go around the globe. I specifically liked the parts where you linked the films' themes with intersectionality and in a Pakistani context as it made the blog feel more personal as I've personally seen the mistreatment of these essential workers. Growing up myself, I've seen the adults in my family not valuing them as they should which, in turn, ingrained this sensibility in myself when I was much closer to them during childhood…
Your blog post offers an incredibly insightful comparison between The Help and the experiences of domestic workers in Pakistan, especially in terms of gender, class, and the invisibility of labour. I’d like to focus on the idea of "invisible nurturers" and how their work is undervalued both in Mississippi and in Pakistan.
You draw a powerful parallel between Aibileen’s role in raising white children who later come to see her as inferior and the domestic workers in Pakistan who often care for children with the same emotional investment. The way these women form intimate bonds with the children they raise, only to remain outsiders in the families they serve, is a stark reflection of the power dynamics that erase their humanity…
I completely agree with the analysis that the relationship between upper-class women and domestic workers in Pakistan reflects a complex form of patriarchal complicity. It highlights how certain women, while benefitting from feminist gains, inadvertently contribute to the exploitation of other women from lower socioeconomic backgrounds. The feminist movement in Pakistan and globally must recognize that gender equality cannot be achieved in isolation from issues of class, race, and labor. In Pakistan, the feminist movement must actively include the voices and struggles of domestic workers, many of whom experience a compounded form of exploitation—gendered, class-based, and often tied to ethnic or religious discrimination.