The recent remarks by Kushtia‑3 lawmaker Amir Hamza about his fellow parliamentarians have sparked widespread outrage. In a viral clip, Hamza, speaking in a public sermon, described his first day in parliament as follows:
“There were Rumeen Farhana Apa and Minister Patal’s daughter, Farzana Sharmin. On my right and left, I saw such pot-bellied people. Since the seats are arranged in advance, we do not even know who will sit where. By Allah’s will, when I entered, I found pot-bellied people on both sides — so huge that, if cut open, perhaps bridges and culverts would be revealed.”
Many have rightly condemned the blatant body-shaming in these comments. The language is crude, vulgar, and demeaning, reducing his colleagues to grotesque physical caricatures for cheap laughs.
Yet the issue runs deeper than body-shaming. And we need to call a spade a spade.
At its core, Hamza’s remarks are outright sexist. They expose a mindset that treats women’s bodies as objects of humour and sexualised spectacle rather than respecting them as equals.
By naming Rumeen Farhana and Farzana Sharmin, he directed attention to their bodies, inviting ridicule and sexualised scrutiny. This reduces their professional identity to mere appearance -- a classic mechanism of sexism, where women are often devalued, policed, and judged based on looks rather than abilities.
More than just insult, sexism is about power too. Hamza’s words assert male authority over female. By making women the subject of public ridicule, he signals that their presence in parliament -- traditionally a male-dominated space -- is open to commentary and judgement, undermining their legitimacy.
Delivering this vulgarity during a religious sermon, a setting meant for moral guidance, makes it especially repulsive and hypocritical. The audience was invited to laugh along, while Hamza’s dual authority as MP and preacher lent his degrading words undue credibility.
Humour may disguise such behaviour as light-hearted, but its impact is toxic. By framing ridicule as harmless joking, the speaker evades accountability while reinforcing harmful social norms that demean women and erase their professional authority.
The damage extends beyond the two women named. Politicians, especially women in visible leadership roles, are particularly vulnerable because their presence challenges traditional power structures and invites attempts to delegitimise them.
Public humiliation of this kind can also deter countless other women, especially those less privileged than female MPs, from speaking up, asserting authority, or fully participating in male-dominated spaces.
Limiting discussion to body-shaming risks missing these points in the public discourse.
It also shows how language, especially under the guise of religious authority, sustains patriarchal attitudes, policing women’s visibility and normalising the sexualisation of their bodies.
Challenging this behaviour is essential -- not only to hold one individual accountable for his vulgarity, but to confront the deeper culture that shamelessly reduces women to their appearance, even in spaces where they deserve to be treated as equals.
