Women politically sidelined since August 5

Before the anti-discrimination movement, there was the anti-quota movement. We, the female students of Dhaka University, used to march in protests. Initially, boys also participated, but due to pressure from the student wing of the ruling party in male dormitories, their numbers gradually decreased. However, since female dormitories did not face the same pressure, we could bring out large processions. Students from institutions like Badrunnesa College, Eden College, and Dhaka Nursing College joined in significant numbers. This spontaneous and substantial participation of women played a crucial role in the movement. We believed that if enough women participated, the ruling student wing would not dare to attack us.

On July 14, when we, the female students, took to the streets, we were attacked on July 15. Society did not take this attack lightly, and the public was outraged. The scale of the violence against us was massive—so many female students were injured that it was heartbreaking for any ordinary person. The brutal attack on female students at Jahangirnagar University also received nationwide condemnation. As a result, public participation in the movement became spontaneous, and one of the key driving forces behind this was the involvement of female students. Later, when Abu Saeed was martyred, the common people participated spontaneously.

However, I must say that we grew up mainly under Sheikh Hasina’s rule. From 2009 to 2024, we spent most of our childhood, adolescence, and youth during her tenure. During that time, we never had the opportunity to express our thoughts about the country or voice our protests. Women, especially those born after 2000, saw increased participation in the job sector, but politically, they had limited opportunities to raise their voices, which contributed to women falling behind in various areas. While women's participation in education and professional life increased, political engagement did not receive much attention.

Since the BCS (Bangladesh Civil Service) exam provides stable government jobs, it naturally attracted women who wanted to work while also managing family life. This also played a role in women’s active participation in the movement, as they hoped for greater inclusion in the workforce.

Eventually, the 2024 mass uprising took place. Although the police did not directly target women with gunfire, we were still present on the streets. Women fought back against the police, and many of our comrades were martyred—around nine female protesters lost their lives, and many others were injured. During the uprising, we never thought of ourselves as just men or women; we saw ourselves as citizens of this country, standing in solidarity with fellow citizens facing oppression. Sheikh Hasina’s repression did not discriminate based on gender or religion—it was universal. This created a shared sense of persecution among everyone.

However, after August 5, the real power struggle began. There was no government for a while, and that’s when the sidelining of women started. Speaking from my own experience, I initially did not even consider the idea that I needed to be in power. When members of our movement, like Nahid Bhai and Asif Bhai, were chosen as advisors, we accepted it naturally. No one in society demanded that women should also be included in advisory positions. To be honest, even I did not feel that women needed to be represented in leadership. We were all comrades in the revolution, so when two people from among us were chosen, it did not initially seem like an issue.

But since this was a game of power, things changed. As the struggle for proximity to power intensified, women were pushed aside. After August 5, at an event, I was subjected to sexual harassment. Various tactics were used to push me aside—physical intimidation, inappropriate touching, and shoving. This experience was so disturbing that I stopped attending events organized by the anti-discrimination movement. There were other incidents, too. I realized that I was being sexually targeted repeatedly.

Before the uprising, I had been beaten on the streets, but after the revolution, sexual harassment became a tool to push women aside. I was physically harassed and constantly reminded that I was a woman. It became clear that if a woman wanted to step forward, she would have to endure sexual harassment. This created an environment that drove most women away and back into their homes. However, from August 5 to 7, when there was no government, women were still on the streets—controlling traffic, standing guard outside houses. Both men and women stood together, patrolling areas like Mohammadpur and Gulshan with sticks. No one questioned why a woman was out on the streets at 10 PM; it was accepted as normal.

But after August 8, a dirty process began. Certain favored women were brought forward, while those with leadership qualities, who wouldn’t conform to a submissive role, were humiliated or physically pushed aside. They were not allowed to stand on stage. By October and November, many women had already withdrawn. When I saw this happening, I decided to step up as the spokesperson for the anti-discrimination movement around October 20-21. I realized that if I did not take up the role, who would speak for women?

Until then, we had not specifically addressed women’s issues because the country had suffered a massive massacre. If we raised gender-specific demands at that time, we would be labeled as selfish. People would say, "Look, she’s playing the 'women’s card' to serve her own interests." This perception was deliberately cultivated. That’s why not just me, but most women avoided bringing up gender issues separately. In doing so, we inadvertently gave up our space, which we later realized was a mistake.

The tendency to sideline women is both cultural and political. As women, we naturally tend to avoid crowds, but there is also a political power structure at play. Perhaps it was feared that if a woman became a convenor, advisor, or secretary, she would become too powerful. So, it was politically resisted.

Another common excuse is, “Women don’t want to be involved in politics; they only came out because they were needed during the uprising.” Political parties argue that women voluntarily withdrew after the revolution. But the reality is that after August 5, women were systematically sidelined.

I believe this happened, consciously or unconsciously, due to patriarchy. Men had more opportunities, and to be honest, I sensed this from early July. Women were called upon only when necessary. Even within the anti-discrimination movement, women faced discrimination.

Now, with the country in crisis, women are facing mob justice in various forms. The government has taken no position on this issue. The interim government was formed on the principle of inclusive representation, yet it is failing to address the harassment and oppression of women. Before the mass uprising, there was some hesitation in assaulting women. Now, that hesitation is gone. The reason? Because there are no consequences for harassing or oppressing women. The government does not see women's safety as a priority, and law enforcement agencies are not being effectively controlled. As a result, women are the primary victims of social chaos.

To overcome this situation, we need a cultural revolution. Currently, there is almost no art, literature, or cultural movement in the country. To advance women’s empowerment, this cultural struggle must take place. The cultural politics of July, which was meant to be liberated, has instead been further repressed. July is disappearing culturally. I believe we need to analyze these issues more deeply. Women need to raise their voices and become more vocal than ever.

Umama Fatema: Spokesperson, Anti-Discrimination Student Movement