Women in politics, politics of women in Bangladesh

For generations, women have endured oppression and neglect, treated like playthings in a patriarchal society. This cannot be remedied merely by writing two pages on paper—it requires rebellion. Sufia Kamal’s letter to Sawgat editor Mohammad Nasiruddin, 23 July 1929 [Janana Mohfil, 1998]

In Bangladesh, one of the most intense arenas for women’s rebellion has been the struggle on the streets—a struggle whose path has been soaked in blood from patriarchal violence. That path bears the blood of many women: Preetilata, Begum Rokeya, Shamsunnahar, Leela Nag, Nurunnahar Khatun, Sufia Kamal, and countless others.

Following in their footsteps, after one of the major political events of the 21st century—a women-led struggle for victory—how much has our aspiration for equality truly been realised? Or have women’s rights to life and voice remained blocked? These are urgent questions for discussion.

For more than five decades after independence, women’s representation in Bangladesh’s national parliament has been negligible. To increase women’s participation in political parties and parliament, a system of reserved seats for women candidates was initially introduced, but this system has not resulted in real political empowerment.

This raises the question: why maintain a system for decades that does not lead to genuine empowerment? It seems that winning parliamentary seats serves as a kind of reward for political parties, and women’s presence remains largely symbolic, providing certain advantages to the system. Despite its shortcomings, this system has persisted. However, the July mass uprising appeared to offer unprecedented opportunities for change, making the issue of women’s political participation a critical topic of discussion over the past year.

During the July mass uprising, women played extraordinarily important roles—not just as symbolic participants or statistical figures, but as active agents and leaders. They stood courageously at the forefront. In the early stages, women students’ participation was strategic; after the killings, women assumed real leadership and decision-making responsibilities.

They organised, led, and were visible on the streets, displaying remarkable courage. Regardless of whether they were mothers, homemakers, students, or professionals, they took brave actions to protect protesting students and played critical roles in the movement.

Because of this, there was a strong expectation that women would have a visible and central role in post-July political reform discussions and policymaking. Unfortunately, when the interim government was formed, women’s representation on the advisory council was extremely low. None of the three student advisors were women. Many expressed immediate concern that women were being deliberately marginalised.

During the 5 August victory of the uprising at the Raju sculpture, when leaders were announcing the next steps, photographs from that moment show almost all men on the stage, with only one woman. For weeks, women students had been prominently visible in the media, yet in that image, they are seated on the lower steps, almost invisible. From 5 August onward, women had already been pushed to the margins.

In the aftermath, we witnessed efforts to restrict women’s mobility, widespread physical harassment in public spaces, and extensive online abuse. At discussions, seminars, and other forums held after the uprising, nearly all speakers were men. This created the impression that women were being deliberately excluded. A pressing question arose: Where did the women go? Why did the women who had stood at the forefront of the uprising suddenly become invisible?

The reasons behind this disappearance are both social and political. Politics in Bangladesh has never been safe or comfortable for women. Our male-dominated, resource- and power-driven political culture is often aggressive and confrontational, where women are frequently marginalised.

There is some basis for this perception: women still do not have equal rights to property and assets. Even the rights granted by religious codes are not fully realised. Women often lack control over their own earnings, while men make major family decisions about children’s education, marriages, and other significant matters.

Given this context, women’s participation in politics is extremely challenging. Politics is often conflict-ridden, and women are discouraged in violent or confrontational situations. Even if they have the skills and preparation to play a role in conflict resolution, they are prevented from doing so because society treats them as second-class citizens.

Families, the state, and even colleagues often oppose giving women space at the political table. The absence of women in the meetings of the Consensus Commission demonstrates that political parties did not bring their female members to the most important political discussions. Regardless of the justifications given, Bangladeshi women will remember this inequality and hold political actors accountable at the ballot box.

Women who work both at home and in offices already carry a double burden. When they engage in activism or politics, that burden becomes triple. Men rarely share domestic responsibilities, and politics demands full-time commitment, which discourages many women from participating—not due to a lack of ability, but because of this social reality.

Despite these structural barriers, there had been hope that the new political platforms created after the July uprising, along with the interim government, would provide opportunities to amplify women’s political voices. Yet the government delayed the formation of a commission on women’s issues, and when members of that commission faced harassment and threats over their report, the government failed to support its own members. Recommendations from that report were not included in the discussions of the Consensus Commission. As a result, women felt betrayed and realised that the government and political parties were not taking their concerns seriously.

Still, there remained a significant opportunity to strengthen women’s representation in parliament by trusting the reform process and following proposals on constitutional and election commission reforms. After decades in which reserved seats failed to ensure real empowerment, there was hope that the focus would finally shift toward direct elections.

If society is not yet fully ready for direct elections, reserved seats can continue temporarily—but they must be filled through direct voting. The women’s movement demanded that political parties increase the nomination of women candidates for general seats. According to the representative mandate, by 2024, each political party’s committees were supposed to ensure 30 per cent female representation. Yet the parties have repeatedly failed to meet this target.

Another major concern for women in politics is the cost of elections. Considering the role of money in political campaigns, fairness requires that all campaign expenses for women candidates be covered as part of the government’s gender budget framework.

Discussions with political parties have yielded disappointing results, with reluctance to implement the 33 per cent nomination for women. Reserved seats remain, but the July Charter was signed without any steps toward direct elections, mandating only 5 per cent nomination of women candidates. In the discussions on the July Charter, more than 30 political parties were invited—even though many of them had minimal actual public support—yet half the population, represented by women, was absent from the conversation.

Despite the long history of the women’s movement in Bangladesh and women’s uniquely courageous role in the mass uprising, their complete exclusion from the discussion process is not only a failure of the organisers but also a disgrace for the government and NGOs that champion human rights and women’s rights.

The government and political parties have lost a unique opportunity. The process of building consensus could have been far more inclusive, incorporating women, workers, farmers, indigenous peoples, gender-diverse communities, and other marginalised groups. By signing the July Charter, that opportunity was lost. With only nominal 5 per cent female representation and no mention of the rights or participation of women, farmers, and workers, the charter has effectively become the document of a few elite political groups’ “boys’ club,” which claims to lead the country “from barbarism to civilisation.” This claim and the charter itself have been rejected by marginalised populations.

The struggle to claim political rights for women will not—and should not—be done by anyone on their behalf. Women must lead this struggle themselves. The path ahead is long, but women are preparing—ready to continue working with even greater determination in the days to come.