Longing and Belonging: The Mountains I Can’t Climb

    Mountains have always been part of my life. Growing up surrounded by mountains so close I could reach out and almost touch them, yet so far I could never truly experience their beauty and freedom. That’s what it’s like to be from Quetta, Balochistan Pakistan. For me, the mountains weren’t just part of the landscape, they felt like part of me. They represented something wild and beautiful, a space I longed to explore. Yet, as a woman in a conservative and fragile society, the mountains in Balochistan were never truly accessible to me. Now, living in the United States, I find myself often comparing these two worlds. Here, public spaces and mountains are open, inviting, and a place for everyone. I’ve hiked through mountains here, feeling a freedom I never quite knew back home. It’s a feeling that’s both liberating and bittersweet, that has only deepened my yearning for Quetta’s mountains.

The Mountains of Home: Close but Unreachable  

    Quetta is a tribal society, where identity, honor, and community are bound by traditions that emphasize the control of spaces and social roles, particularly for women. These norms create strict boundaries between what is considered “appropriate” behavior and spaces for men and women. Women are often expected to remain within defined areas or to navigate public spaces with caution, especially in ways that reinforce modesty and community expectations. This restrictive view of “appropriate” spaces for women is a social boundary reinforced not only by family but by the entire community. While men freely enjoy the natural landscapes or take part in public life, women are expected to adhere to norms that keep them closer to home. These rules reflect what Mitchell (1995) would call “representations of space,” where public areas are socially controlled, with guidelines about who can access them and in what manner. In this way, the “public” is not truly public, as it excludes women and other groups in subtle but profound ways.    

    In Quetta, the mountains are all around us, especially in Mariabad, the neighborhood where my family resides. These rocky cliffs seem so close, yet there are invisible barriers that keep many of us, especially women, from venturing out. My connection to those mountains has always been more of a longing than a reality. For women, it is an unfulfilled right to the land that represent both an aspiration and a denial. Whitson (2017) describes how the right to access and belong in public spaces is often unequally distributed, and I feel this in my own experience. The mountains back home are another public space we’re not free to access. This limited access reflects the broader structure, where cultural values prioritize protection but end up restricting personal freedom and creating a social landscape where freedom and opportunity are unevenly shared. Mitchell’s reflections on public space and Whitson (2017) on the gendered right to belong have helped me articulate the struggle and yearning I carry for those mountains. They are part of me, even if I am, for now, not in their shadow. 

Experiencing Freedom in the Mountains of the U.S.

    Moving to the U.S. brought an unexpected joy and the freedom to explore nature. I’ve hiked in Zion, Bryce, Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, Arches and other parks. I remember my first hike in Zion, feeling the earth under my boots and the wide open sky above me. I also remember the thrill of standing atop a peak on Rendezvous in Grand Teton NP, looking down on the world without barriers. There, the mountains feel democratic as they are for everyone, no questions asked. It is a different world, one where the mountains felt inviting, not forbidding. But back home, such experiences are unimaginable. Here, there’s no fear of who might question my right to be there, no unspoken boundaries keeping me out. In Quetta, I’d be challenging norms by trying to hike but in the U.S., I’m just another person enjoying the view.

    In conclusion, public space, as both Mitchell (1995) and Whitson (2017) suggest, is more than a physical location. It is a concept shaped by power, social dynamics, and exclusion. Unlike my hikes in the U.S., where I felt the thrill of adventure and autonomy, a walk in the mountains back home would feel more like an act of defiance than of pleasure. In sharing this reflection with my classmates, I hope to convey more than just nostalgia for my homeland. I wish to invoke a vision of my hometown with its complex reality for women like me. One day, perhaps, those towering peaks will no longer be boundaries for women but pathways to freedom and a fuller identity. Also, I think Quetta’s mountains deserve to be explored, celebrated, and enjoyed by everyone in the community.  In the end, what I long for isn’t just the mountains themselves but the freedom they represent. I hope that one day, Balochistan’s mountains will be more than a backdrop for women.