Imagine a bright, sunny morning. You wake up in a good mood, ready to start the day -- only to realize your domestic worker hasn’t arrived. In a matter of minutes, a smooth routine collapses. Breakfast is delayed, work schedules wobble, irritation creeps in.
That small disruption exposes a larger truth we rarely confront: Our everyday lives run on the invisible, tireless labour of domestic workers. Their work is most noticeable when it is absent, yet their contribution remains persistently overlooked, undervalued, and unprotected.
Against this backdrop, Bangladesh’s recent ratification of three International Labour Organization (ILO) conventions -- 150, 187, and 190 -- has been widely celebrated. Official narratives proudly highlight Bangladesh as the first country in Asia to ratify all 10 fundamental ILO instruments. It sounds historic, even triumphant. But beyond the headlines and bureaucratic applause, a more uncomfortable question lingers: What does this actually mean for domestic workers?
Will this long-marginalized workforce finally be recognized with dignity? Will they be registered, guaranteed minimum wages, or allowed to organize and bargain collectively? Or will these commitments remain confined to paper, impressive in form yet hollow in effect?
A breakthrough did arrive in 2025 with the promulgation of the Bangladesh Labour Act (Amendment) Ordinance. For the first time, domestic workers were formally recognized as “workers” under the law -- following the ratification of relevant ILO conventions. For a workforce historically excluded from labour protections, this was undeniably a moment of progress.
Ratification legally obliges Bangladesh to enact laws and policies that reflect the standards these conventions demand. Yet serious gaps remain, and implementation challenges loom large. Written appointment letters, identity cards, minimum wages, regulated working hours, leave entitlements, maternity benefits, and social protection are still either vaguely defined or absent altogether. Rights exist in principle, but not yet in practice.
Even the language of the law reveals hesitation. Domestic workers continue to be referred to as “domestic helpers,” a term that softens labour into service and masks power relations. This is not a semantic quibble. Naming matters. To be recognized as a “worker” is to be recognized as a rights-holder, entitled to dignity, protection, and equality under the law.
The amended law does offer one promising provision: Domestic workers now have the right to organize and to lodge complaints. However, directing them to courts as the primary avenue for redress is deeply unrealistic.
For women working long hours behind closed doors, often with limited mobility, income, or legal literacy, the courtroom might as well be another locked gate.
What is needed instead are accessible, local-level grievance mechanisms -- community-based or ward-level complaint desks that meet workers where they are.
A national monitoring cell could also play a transformative role, particularly if it actively engages local administrations and communities. Without such structures, legal rights remain abstract, distant from lived realities.
Equally troubling is the absence of reliable data. Bangladesh still lacks a national database on domestic workers -- their numbers, conditions, wages, or vulnerabilities. Without a registration system, policy-making becomes guesswork, monitoring becomes symbolic, and accountability slips through the cracks.
The ratification of ILO Convention 190 on violence and harassment raises another urgent question: Will these protections reach women working inside private households, some of the most hidden and difficult workplaces to monitor? Domestic work happens behind closed doors, beyond the routine gaze of inspectors or institutions.
The Labour Act still lacks a comprehensive definition of harassment, and the number of labour inspectors remains woefully inadequate. Domestic workers, largely part of the informal economy, continue to fall outside effective enforcement mechanisms.
Research from Oxfam’s Securing Rights of Women Domestic Workers project shows that 63% of domestic workers experience physical or mental violence, yet only 8% report it. This gap reflects not silence, but fear, isolation, and the absence of safe systems for redress.
Discussions on domestic workers’ rights inevitably encounter resistance. Employers often fear that increased awareness of rights will disrupt convenience or erode control -- concerns rooted in unequal power relations and deeply entrenched social norms. As a result, political will remains fragile and reform cautious.
Yet protecting domestic workers’ rights is not a zero-sum game. Clear contracts and legal standards benefit employers too by setting expectations and reducing conflict. Training and skills development can enhance reliability, accountability, and trust. Decent work does not undermine households; it stabilizes them.
If Bangladesh is serious about translating legal recognition into real protection, the path forward is clear.
A national registration system must be established. The Labour Law needs a clear implementation roadmap aligned with ILO Convention 189. Written contracts, minimum wages, defined working hours, maternity benefits, and accessible grievance mechanisms must be guaranteed. Institutions like the Department of Labour must be strengthened to enforce the law meaningfully.
Domestic workers sustain households -- and by extension, the economy itself. Recognising their rights is not charity. It is justice long overdue.
Rowshon Akhter Urmee is a Gender, Justice and Social Inclusion Specialist, Oxfam Bangladesh.
