Barriers to Women’s Mobility

The abrupt ban on chinchis, a motorcycle-powered three-wheelers, has sent shockwaves through Karachi’s already strained transport network. The sudden prohibition has created deep uncertainty for countless women who once relied on these nimble vehicles to bridge the gap between home, work, college, and market areas. With bus routes offering limited coverage and fares for standard auto-rickshaws now soaring three to five times higher than earlier chinchi rates, daily commutes have become costly, time-consuming ordeals. Many women must decide between risking unregulated motorcycle taxis, coping with cramped buses, or walking long, poorly lit stretches, none of which feel safe or affordable.

Chinchis won popular favor by offering a uniquely efficient makeshift solution for Karachi’s chaotic streets. Their compact size enabled them to weave through traffic snarls and navigate narrow lanes that larger vehicles could not penetrate. Fares for short hops typically ranged from PKR 30 to 50, an amount that fit easily into even modest budgets. Riders appreciated these enclosed three-wheelers’ relative privacy, compared with open-air bus rides or crowded vans, making them an especially preferred choice for female passengers traveling alone.

Officials justified the ban by pointing to genuine concerns: chinchis often operated without proper registration, driver vetting, or standardized safety equipment, contributing to high accident rates. Many used two-stroke motorcycle engines, notorious for emitting noxious pollutants, exacerbating Karachi’s air quality crisis. Regulators also argued that tens of thousands of chinchis blocked traffic flow on side streets and undermined efforts to organize dedicated bus and taxi lanes. Yet the decision’s sudden implementation, with no transitional measures or viable transport alternatives, left thousands of commuters, particularly women, stranded.

The immediate fallout has hit women hardest. Skyrocketing auto-rickshaw fares, now averaging PKR 200–300 even for brief journeys, force many to dedicate a far larger share of their already limited salaries to mere transportation. Public buses, where available, run infrequently and often require transfers, adding thirty to sixty minutes to each trip and nudging many to leave home before sunrise and return after sunset, heightening safety concerns. Lacking affordable, reliable options for the so-called “last mile,” women increasingly resort to unregulated motorcycle taxis or walking perilous routes, exposing them to harassment, accidents, and undue stress.

This crisis underscores deeper flaws in Karachi’s urban planning. The city lacks an integrated public-transport system: buses are fragmented across operators, metro or tram networks remain in planning limbo, and no cohesive strategy connects different modes of travel. Road infrastructure is riddled with potholes, poorly lit at night, and devoid of safe pedestrian walkways. Regulatory authority is fragmented among municipal, provincial, and federal bodies, resulting in contradictory rules and stalled projects. Planning processes have ignored women’s specific mobility needs, from gender-sensitive seating to secure, well-monitored last-mile services.

Lahore and Islamabad already enjoy well-established, modern transit networks and robust infrastructure, so it’s hard to understand why Karachi remains mired in transport chaos and urban decay.

The local government must adopt a balanced approach to restore mobility and equity. Rather than an outright ban, authorities should enact regulations requiring chinchis to meet updated emission and safety standards, transforming them into a legal, cleaner alternative. Simultaneously, the city should invest in expanding and modernizing its bus network, create dedicated lanes, and accelerate rapid-transit corridors. Formalizing regulated ride-sharing for motorcycles with mandatory driver training, background checks, and calibrated digital fare meters would bridge critical gaps. Enhanced street lighting, safe sidewalks, and community policing must accompany these measures to protect women off-peak. Finally, public-private partnerships can pilot electric or CNG-powered shuttles for underserved zones.

Lahore and Islamabad already enjoy well-established, modern transit networks and robust infrastructure, so it’s hard to understand why Karachi remains mired in transport chaos and urban decay. Our city’s ministers must treat Karachi as the priority it deserves, urgently funding road repairs, expanding and integrating public-transport systems, and enforcing building codes to ensure safe, reliable service for millions. Without immediate, coordinated investment in everything from street lighting and sidewalks to affordable last-mile solutions, Karachi’s residents, especially women and low-income workers, will continue to face daily hardships that neither Lahore nor Islamabad has to endure.

Karachi’s transport woes reveal an urgent need for gender-responsive, sustainable planning. While safety and environmental targets are vital, they cannot come at the expense of women’s daily lives and livelihoods. By upgrading chinchis to meet modern standards, scaling integrated public transit, and designing infrastructure with women’s safety in mind, Karachi can rebuild an affordable, reliable, and inclusive transport ecosystem. The moment for decisive, empathetic reform has arrived, and only by balancing regulation with accessibility can Karachi ensure that all its residents move freely, safely, and with dignity.