I KEEP thinking about the conversations with my progressive and feminist friends and allies right before the 2026 election results in Bangladesh. Many were holding their breath because of the prospect of a Jamaat-e-Islami-led government. The Jamaat-e-Islami ameer Shafiqur Rahman’s pre-election remarks about restricting women to work for five hours instead of eight hours and his beliefs against women’s political leadership raised significant feminist anxiety. When the victory of Bangladesh Nationalist Party was declared, many were relieved that women could continue to work full-time and advance towards political emancipation.
Yes, Jamaat’s theocratic constitution is grounded in the concept of the ‘Islami Shariah,’ and, yes, since the July uprising (and even before that), we have observed Jamaat struggling with its ‘women’s question.’ On the one hand, the Jamaat leadership has strived to promote a ‘modern,’ ‘moderate,’ and ‘women-friendly’ public image and sought to appeal to the secular and liberal segment in Bangladesh and abroad. For example, the leadership repeatedly emphasised on many occasions that it would not implement Shariah law, which includes many orthodox and discriminatory interpretations regarding gender equity, if the party won the 13th parliamentary election in Bangladesh. On the other hand, its inner contradictions regarding the women’s question became visible as the ameer, Shafiqur Rahman, promised to prepare its women’s leadership for future political emancipation while nominating an all-male pool of electoral candidates and emphasising that his political party would never allow women to assume the top leadership.
Therefore, the liberal and secular feminist anxiety over Jamaat makes sense. BNP’s electoral win offered many Bangladeshi feminists a temporary sense of relief. What intrigues me most in this sense of relief is the overwhelming tendency to establish BNP as a feminist alternative to Jamaat. At a recent panel discussion held at Ohio State University in the United States, Professor Dina Siddiqi shed light on the national amnesia regarding the past BNP regimes that have a long history of inflicting state-sponsored violence on the most marginalised and minoritised. Inspired by her insights, I would like to draw attention to the feminist amnesia regarding the newly elected BNP-led government and urge feminist thinkers and organisers in Bangladesh not to treat the defeat of Jamaat as a ‘feminist win.’ On the 2026 International Women’s Day, which focuses on ‘rights, justice and action for all women and girls,’ I would like us to perform a sober historical reading of how the past BNP rule and BNP-led coalitions addressed rights, justice, and action for women and girls, and take lessons for future feminist organising in the next few years.
After Khaleda Zia, the first female prime minister of Bangladesh and the four-decade-long chairperson of BNP, passed away on December 30, 2025, there has been an overwhelming tendency to portray her as a feminist political icon who revolutionised girls’ education and pioneered women’s rights in Bangladesh (Symoom 2026). Yes, Khaleda Zia has been rightly credited for making primary education compulsory and offering tuition-free education and stipends for girls up to grade 10. However, Tanveer Anoy argues that it’s really important to go beyond spectacular commentary describing Khaleda Zia as ‘uncompromising leader,’ ‘symbol of resistance,’ or ‘champion of democracy’ and recognise how Khaleda Zia and her political party BNP functioned within a right-wing, militarised political tradition that had tangible consequences for democratic norms, minoritised communities, and voices of dissent. Anoy insightfully reminds us that promoting selective women’s issues does not automatically translate into a holistic and transformative progressive politics. Moreover, a woman can personally break glass ceilings while upholding conservative and/or exclusionary ideologies. Feminism loses its critical power when it is reduced to symbolism alone (Anoy 2026).
Anoy’s fierce critique of the tendency to portray Khaleda Zia as a feminist political icon inspires me to take a careful, critical look at the military rule of Ziaur Rahman (1975-81), Khaleda Zia’s spouse, and how it responded to questions of secularism and feminism. Does the current liberal and secular feminist imagination of BNP in opposition to Jamaat-e-Islami remember that one of the major goals of Ziaur Rahman’s ‘Bangladeshi nationalism‘ was to distinguish Bangladeshi Bengalis from Indian Bengalis, thereby emphasising a hegemonic ‘Muslim’ identity for all Bangladeshi citizens despite our religious and ethnic diversities? Rahman removed ‘secularism’ from the preamble of the Constitution of Bangladesh. Although the 1972 constitution prohibited political parties founded on religion, Rahman permitted Jamaat-e-Islami to reenter the political arena, mostly to secure an ally against the Awami League. Sarah Shehabuddin talks about how Rahman (and Hussain Muhhammad Ershad) used constitutional amendments to ‘legalise their actions, indemnify themselves from prosecution, and emphasize their Islamic credentials to gain domestic and international support’ (Shehabuddin 2016). BNP, in its history of origin, was never ‘secular,’ whatever that might mean, in its very nature.
Ziaur Rahman’s military regime also pursued economic liberalization and free market reforms, courting local as well as transnational corporate elites and promoting partnerships with the United States and oil-rich Arab countries. Feminist scholars have suggested that these moves, despite opening up some opportunities for women’s wage labour, resulted in cheapened labour and precarious working conditions, especially for working-class women, against the backdrop of the growing political role of religion and reinforced patriarchal norms.
I would argue that it’s extremely important to look beyond the public and popular feminist political rhetoric promoted by a political party like BNP and carefully investigate its history of prioritisation. I would also argue that, historically, when the need to ensure electoral survival, manage coalitions, protect corporate allies, or secure community mobilisation arose, BNP (as well as Awami League, Jamaat, Jatiya Party, and other major political parties) treated the ‘women’s question’ as expendable. Yes, unlike Jamaat, BNP has never formally rejected women’s political leadership and participation in public life, but — as I mentioned before — symbolic female leadership does not automatically translate into transformative gender justice. Historically, throughout various rulings of BNP, patriarchal personal laws remained largely untouched, legal reforms stalled, women workers’ plights were attacked, indigenous and minoritised women’s priorities were ignored, and enforcement of protections against gender-based violence remained inconsistent.
For example, speaking of our collective feminist amnesia, do we remember the brutal gang rape of the Hindu teenager Purnima Rani Shil by a mob of about 30 people, identified as local supporters of the BNP-Jamaat coalition, right after the 2001 electoral victory of the coalition? Human rights groups documented a series of post-election violent incidents specifically against Hindu communities (Amnesty International 2001), and that the then-ruling government was remained slow and even reluctant to acknowledge the scale of abuses (BBC News, October 15, 2001). Targeting minoritised womanhood is not simply an uncorrelated act. It’s indicative of how BNP is embedded in the history of treating minoritised women’s bodies as sites of political revenge.
During the 2001-2006 BNP rule, indigenous communities in the Chittagong Hill Tracks continued to face systemic marginalization, land dispossession, and gender-based violence. Both BNP and Jamaat had previously opposed the Chittagong Accord while in opposition. After coming to power, although the BNP-Jamaat coalition did not formally revoke the agreement, it left implementation of the Accord partial, leaving key protections for indigenous autonomy and land rights largely unrealised. Research by Shapan Adnan and Ranajit Dastidar documents that the massive colonial occupation of indigenous (‘Pahari’) lands by state agencies and Bengali settlers persisted in the post-Accord period, including the years covered by the BNP-led government (Adnan and Dastidar 2011). Indigenous women became particularly vulnerable because of intersecting forms of discrimination based on gender, ethnicity, class, and socio-economic marginalisation during the 2001-2006 BNP-Jamaat ruling. From 2003 to 2006, state security personnel were responsible for about 27 per cent of reported rape cases against indigenous women, while the remaining incidents were attributed to Bengali settlers (Chakma and Hill 2013, 144).
The garment industry employed between 75 and 85 per cent women workers during the BNP-Jamaat-led government from 2001 to 2006. This period is characterised by a continuation of wage suppression, long hours, unsafe working conditions, harassment and abuse on factory floors, industrial disasters, and violent crackdowns on labour protests. For example, in 2005, the tragic collapse of the Spectrum garment factory claimed the lives of 64 workers and injured 80 others (Clean Clothes Campaign 2013). In 2006, the KTS factory fire killed at least 65 workers, many of whom were women, and injured at least 80 (NBC News 2006). Clean Clothes campaign linked those industrial disasters with persistent safety hazards and deplorable protection for workers (Clean Clothes Campaign 2006). Does the Bangladeshi secular, liberal feminist consciousness remember the 2006 wildcat strikes and protests of over 100,000 garment workers who demanded higher wages and better working conditions (libcom.org 2006)? The then BNP-led government deployed security forces, including the Rapid Action Battalion, to arrest and harass workers. The police fired on protestors, killing at least three and injuring over 3,000 workers, and jailed over a thousand workers. The security forces raided union offices, detained and allegedly tortured organisers, including female organisers, and filed criminal cases against workers and organizers (International Communist Current 2006).
Do we remember how the BNP-led coalition government introduced revisions of the 1997 version of the National Women Development Policy, which was originally crafted as a comprehensive framework to advance women’s rights and equity in Bangladesh? In 2004, the revisions were quietly introduced that altered articles 7, 8, 9, and 12 of the 1997 policy, restricting women’s rights to property, land, and inheritance, limiting their employment opportunities, reducing support for older women, and weakening their role in public decision-making. Many feminists suspected that the policy revisions were influenced by BNP’s more right-wing political allies, including Jamaat and Islami Oikkyo Jot (Hossain 2011).
Therefore, historically, BNP and Jamaat did not necessarily work in opposition to each other; they were close allies, influencing each other’s positions and policies. Jamaat, in its public discourse, followed the leadership of a woman, Khaleda Zia, and BNP did not hesitate to erase protection for equal inheritance in the NWDP. This historical symbiotic relationship between BNP and Jaamat is important to keep in mind. Yes, many would want to give BNP the benefit of the doubt because it is the ‘lesser of the two evils,’ hoping that BNP has moved beyond its historical limitations and transformed into a more ‘modern,’ ‘democratic,’ and ‘inclusive’ political party. Following the July uprising, the BNP has indeed been making efforts to attract support from Awami League voters, urban liberals, minoritised communities, and politically engaged youth (Al Jazeera 2025).
For example, Zaima Rahman, daughter of the prime minister, Tarique Rahman, is gradually becoming a popular feminist icon, giving speeches on gender equity and urging people to go beyond women’s symbolic success stories and advocate for the sustainable advancement of women. Will Zaima Rahman’s vision for holistic gender equality bring freedom from Bengali settler colonial and militarised violence for indigenous women in the Chittagong hill tracks? Will it ensure a livable wage and a job with dignity for women garment workers? Does her definition of ‘gender equality’ include respectful recognition and emancipation of trans-, queer, and non-binary communities? Let’s not become too euphoric about avoiding the crisis of having a Jamaat-led government. Let’s remember the history with caution, maintain a healthy skepticism, hold powerful people and institutions accountable, and continue to organise for a decolonial, intersectional, and transformative feminist vision.
Nafisa Nipun Tanjeem is an educator, researcher, writer, and activist. Currently, she works as an associate professor in the Department of Interdisciplinary Studies at Worcester State University in Massachusetts, United States.
