Global leaders like Italy’s Giorgia Meloni or Japan’s Sanae Takaichi demonstrate that women can reach the apex of power even in conservative systems. Yet their success highlights how rare such examples remain.
In Bangladesh, the narrative is uniquely complex. We have a long history of female leadership at the head of government. However, the current reality for women on the ground feels more symbolic than transformative.
There is a visible “gender wall” that blocks meaningful involvement in formal politics. This wall is built from multiple layers. Institutionally, legal frameworks give women the right to vote and run for office. But practical mechanisms to enable genuine participation often fall short.
Culturally, entrenched norms about gender roles and household responsibilities still restrict women’s entry into the political arena. Limited access to resources and education creates further barriers.
We must look at the data with a skeptical eye. On paper, the numbers have improved. In the 8th Parliament (2001), women held just 2% of seats. By the 11th Parliament (2019), that figure rose to 20.7%. According to the Inter-Parliamentary Union, this places Bangladesh ahead of many South Asian neighbours. This looks like progress. But it is an incomplete achievement.
The vast majority of this representation comes from the 50 seats reserved exclusively for women. These are not directly elected positions. They are allocated based on the proportional strength of parties in the general election.
Consequently, these MPs often lack a direct mandate from the people. They become dependent on party leadership for their positions. They risk serving as "vote banks" rather than independent legislators. In the general seats, where the real fight for power happens, women’s representation hovers stagnantly low.
Furthermore, high-level political access remains tied to established political families. This often limits the space for meritocratic female leadership to emerge from the grassroots. Women who break through to general seats often do so through family connections. While their participation is valid, it does not necessarily signal an opening for independent female leadership from the ground up.
We are also witnessing new, modern pressures. Recent reports indicate that while women’s participation in the labour force is rising, the political sphere is becoming more hostile. Online gender-based violence (OGBV) has become a systematic tool to silence women. Trolling, character assassination, and “deep-fake” intimidation are used to push women out of public debates.
There is also a tangible backlash. In recent years, traditionalist groups have publicly challenged reforms aimed at enhancing women’s rights. This signals a complex tension between social norms and political inclusion. It suggests that women’s visibility in politics is tolerated only as long as it does not challenge the traditional distribution of power.
The barriers are less overt than before. But they are embedded in the machinery of politics. Competition is expensive. In Bangladesh, the cost of running a campaign for a general seat runs into crores of Taka. Without access to significant undisclosed capital or family wealth, how can a female political worker compete?
To move from symbolic presence to actual power, we require concrete strategic shifts rather than just moral arguments.
For political parties: Meaningful change relies on clear, incremental targets. The Representation of the People Order (RPO) set a 33% goal but lacked a stepped mechanism to reach it. The proposals in the July Charter offer a practical roadmap. They suggest increasing female nominations by 5% in every election cycle until the 33% target is reached. This approach transforms a distant goal into a manageable process for party leadership.
For the Election Commission: Regulatory consistency is key to a level playing field. Enforcing incremental targets and strictly monitoring campaign spending limits can reduce the financial disadvantage many female candidates face. Additionally, addressing online violence against candidates is now an essential part of maintaining electoral integrity.
For civil society and donors: Civil society has played a crucial role in training potential leaders. The next step involves addressing structural gaps. Women often face barriers in funding and networking rather than a lack of skills. Development partners can amplify their impact by fostering cross-party coalitions. This allows women to bargain collectively for their rights within parliament.
For policy-makers: The reserved seat system was always intended as a bridge and not a permanent destination. Phasing these seats out as parties meet the 33% threshold in general elections would encourage mainstream competition. This incentivizes parties to invest in female candidates who can win direct votes -- moving the system from quotas to genuine competition.
It is high time to ask the harder questions. Are women truly empowered? Or are they navigating systems built by and for men? When a woman enters politics, does she bring her own voice, or is she echoing a party line dictated by male leaders?
Reserved seats help women get in. But they also confine them to a secondary tier of legitimacy. We must ask why a family name still matters more than ideas. We must ask why voters hesitate to trust women in general seats.
The truth is, women’s participation looks strong on paper. But real power still sits elsewhere.
It is time to stop celebrating the numbers and start demanding the influence. Politics in Bangladesh will only truly serve the people when women are present, not as symbols. but as equal, active, and powerful leaders.
Fariha Hossain is a development professional and humanitarian. Her work focuses on social inclusion and women's rights in Bangladesh. She can be reached at Farihahossain.du@gmail.com.