Women are often described as the most vulnerable in times of disaster. In discussions about climate change, especially in Bangladesh, they are framed as at risk, exposed, and dependent. There is truth in that. Structural inequalities, limited access to land ownership, and restricted mobility make women more vulnerable during floods and cyclones. But vulnerability is not the whole story. And when we stop at that narrative, we miss something far more powerful.
Last year I visited a char area in Chilmari Upazila of Kurigram. The Brahmaputra River constantly reshapes this landscape. Land appears and disappears, and floods come almost every year. Livelihoods are fragile and seasonal. Most families depend on agriculture when the land is visible and cultivable. In the winter season, when the floodwater recedes, families grow crops like maize(corn), groundnut, and sometimes sugarcane. During a conversation with a few women, I learned how actively they were involved in this farming work. Traditionally, field labor in Bangladesh is associated with men. Yet the women I spoke to were engaged in sowing, weeding, and post-harvest processing. They told me that they could not afford to rely on a single income source anymore. Flood intensity has increased over the years due to climate change, and crop loss is common. So, during the short dry season, every pair of hands matters.
One woman explained that if they fail to maximize production during that window, the family struggles for the rest of the year. Sometimes men migrate temporarily for work. Sometimes there simply is not enough labor available in the char. In both cases, women step into physically demanding roles not because they are empowered by design but because survival requires it. They are not waiting to be rescued from climate impacts. They are adjusting their labor patterns and sustaining their households in an increasingly uncertain environment.
A different but equally powerful experience came from the coastal belt of Satkhira, in Ashashuni upazila. That region faces cyclones, tidal surges, and salinity intrusion regularly. During a survey there, I met Aklima, a 40-year-old housewife whose husband is a fisherman. He spends nearly half the year at sea. During that time, she manages the household, raises their children, and takes care of their cattle. In May 2024, when Cyclone Remal hit, most of the neighbors moved to the cyclone shelter. Aklima did not, in fact, choose to stay back with two cows that represented one of their only stable assets. Fishing income is highly uncertain and seasonal. Livestock is savings, security, and future survival for their family. She told me that if she had left, the cows might have died due to cylone-flooding and debris. Losing them would have pushed the family into a crisis they might not recover from.
It would be easy to frame Aklima only as vulnerable. She was exposed to danger. She had limited choices. Yet it is also clear that she made a calculated decision to protect her family’s livelihood. She assessed risk and acted. That is agency, and that is leadership within constraints. These experiences complicate the dominant narrative. Yes, women face higher risks during disasters. Yes, social norms and economic barriers limit their options. But they are also laborers in flood-prone chars, financial managers in coastal households, and first responders when assets are at stake. They protect crops, livestock, and children. They diversify income. They hold families together in times of crisis.
The problem with constantly labeling women as victims is that policy responses then focus only on protection and not on recognition. We design programs to save women, but rarely to strengthen the leadership roles they already perform. In local disaster management committees, how many women from char lands or coastal villages are genuinely part of decision-making? In agricultural extension services, how often are women farmers acknowledged as farmers rather than helpers? If climate resilience in Bangladesh is to be meaningful, it must move beyond sympathy. It must invest in women as economic actors. That means access to climate-resilient seeds, livestock insurance, credit facilities, and land rights. It means ensuring that women who already work in the fields are included in agricultural training. It means recognizing that when a woman, as she is making a strategic livelihood decision, not simply acting out of ignorance.
In climate discourse, we celebrate women’s vulnerability to justify intervention. Perhaps it is time to celebrate something else. The quiet negotiations women make with risk. The extra hours in the field in Kurigram. The difficult choices during cyclones in Satkhira. Women in Bangladesh’s climate hotspots are not only standing on the frontlines of impact. They are actively shaping the response. If we truly want climate justice, we must see them not just as victims of change but as architects of resilience.