WHY are we as a society so obsessed with marriage? In Pakistan, from a young age, many girls are taught that their ultimate goal is to secure a ‘good rishta’. Education, instead of empowering them towards independence, is often reduced to a signalling tool — a way to enhance marriageability, not build self-sufficiency. Rather than viewing education as an investment in a daughter’s human capital — her skills, potential and long-term economic independence — it is treated as a decorative asset to attract suitors, as economist Gary Becker argued.

A recent experiment in Lahore and Karachi found that parents believe daughters’ schooling helps them marry richer men, not build careers (Calvi, Farooqi & Kandpal, 2024). This turns human capital into ‘bridal capital’: a credential meant not to unlock opportunities, but to polish a ‘rishta profile’. I’ve seen brilliant women discouraged from studying abroad or working not due to lack of ability, but because their families feared it would delay or complicate marriage.

This obsession doesn’t exist in a vacuum. In a society where women’s mobility, jobs, and safety are limited, marriage remains one of the few sanctioned paths to security. As Becker noted, it becomes a ‘market’ where women trade attributes — beauty, education, background — for protection and legitimacy. It’s a default economic solution, offering families a sense of security and women a script to follow. In many communities, it’s seen as the clearest path to survival — not because it’s fulfilling, but because few alternatives are validated. Even women who know their worth beyond marriage often find the pull of approval hard to resist.

Change begins with how we raise our daughters. Instead of conditioning them to be dolled up for men, we can expose them to female role models: pilots, professors, doctors, engineers. The obsession with ‘gori, lambi larki’ (fair, tall girl) and social status in ‘rishta culture’ — reveals how marriage functions like a marketplace governed by signals and prejudices. Daughters become checklists, while families act like economic agents, optimising perceived ‘value’ through appearance, education and background. Strong role models help girls build resistance to society’s pressure.

Change begins with how we raise our daughters.

This isn’t to say a woman shouldn’t marry — but she shouldn’t marry for the wrong reasons. Marriage can be meaningful, but only when built on equality, choice and respect. When women enter marriage from a place of financial dependence, their bargaining power is diminished from the start. Studies show that in Pakistan, women with less education and no independent income are less likely to leave unhappy or abusive marriages, mainly due to lack of financial means and social support. This is what economists call a stable but inefficient equilibrium: no one leaves, even when everyone is worse off.

How do we break this cycle? Culture rarely shifts overnight. It takes time, patience and brave choices. We need to stop glorifying marriage. Women today hold more bargaining power than ever — through education, earnings and social capital — and should use that leverage to make stronger choices. Marriage isn’t the end goal; lasting security and fulfillment are. We must teach our daughters that they don’t have to wait for someone else to save them. They are strong enough to build their own happiness.

Marriage is marketed as love and fairytales — and women are some of the biggest consumers of that illusion. Framing it as a fairytale sets our daughters up for disappointment. Instead, we must offer the full picture: marriage can bring joy, but also pain or abuse. If we help them see all sides, they can enter it with strength and confidence.

Too often, daughters are treated like investment goods — polished, displayed and traded in a hyper-competitive market. This isn’t driven by malice, but by incentives — and incentives, after all, are a foundational principle of economics. In a world where a ‘good match’ is still seen as the safest path to a woman’s future, families invest in traits that optimise short-term returns — beauty, class, degrees as status symbols — rather than long-term growth.

But economics offers a powerful counter-narrative. Human capital theory tells us that investing in a daughter’s skills and independence yields far greater returns — for her and for society. By focusing on confidence and capability, parents create ‘positive externalities’ that uplift entire communities.

To all parents reading this: teach your daughters that education is not a decorative trophy but a true investment in their human capital — their skills, independence and future. Support their choices. The goal isn’t to groom them for marriage — it’s to help them break the wheel and write their own stories.

The writer is an assistant professor of economics at St Olaf College.

Published in Dawn, July 22nd, 2025