It feels as if existing as a woman in Bangladesh has become an unspoken crime. A series of shocking videos from Cox’s Bazar have emerged on social media, showing a group of men -- and disturbingly, even a woman -- harassing several women on the beach. What makes this incident even more revolting is that the perpetrators not only carried out their abuse publicly but also had the audacity to boast about their actions on social media. Horrifyingly, the videos even garnered mostly positive comments, with some viewers even applauding the attackers.
The woman's apparent crime? Simply being at a beach, dressed in what these self-proclaimed moral policemen deemed “inappropriate.” To further complicate matters, online rumours began swirling about the identity of the victims. Some reports speculated that members of the third-gender community were targeted as well. But regardless of who they are, the critical issue remains the same: Their rights, dignity, and safety were trampled upon in a very public, shameful, and horrifying manner.
The main perpetrator, Farokul, even went so far as to thank the police on social media for being supportive of his actions. This is not just hearsay -- there is clear video evidence of the abuse. Yet, according to the police, they could not act unless a case was formally filed. The question remains: How much more evidence does law enforcement need before they take action? Or is it that, when it comes to women's safety, the police - much like the rest of society have chosen to turn a blind eye?
Women have never been truly safe in Bangladesh, but the rise in fundamentalist rhetoric and the increasing trend of mob justice is deeply alarming. Amid political unrest and the ongoing struggle for stability, women face a double burden: The fight for political safety and the constant battle for personal safety. We are treated as second-class citizens, our voices often silenced, our dignity brushed aside. Society fails to provide women with the basic rights they deserve.
What is even more concerning is how our society consistently blames victims in the aftermath of gender-based violence. Whenever incidents like this occur, the narrative quickly shifts -- from the crime itself to how women should behave, dress, or conduct themselves. Victim-blaming has become a pervasive issue that remains unaddressed at its core. The situation has spiralled so far out of control that men now feel emboldened to roam the streets, attacking women with sticks, convinced that their actions will go unpunished.
No one, neither men nor women, has the right to dictate how others should dress, behave, or live their lives. Women deserve the freedom to live on their own terms.
In Bangladesh, perpetrators of gender-based violence rarely face consequences. Our justice system only springs into action when an incident is so gruesome that it forces public outrage. Protests are held, roundtable discussions are organized, and demands for justice echo across media channels. But a few days later, the fury dies down. The world moves on. And the women? They are left carrying the trauma, reminded of their lack of safety and dignity every time another harassment case surfaces.
Following public outcry, Farokul has been detained -- a haunting image of him, smiling without an ounce of remorse, has been plastered across the media. Yet, we are still waiting to see if any substantial legal action will be taken against him or his accomplices
Following public outcry, Farokul has been detained -- a haunting image of him, smiling without an ounce of remorse, has been plastered across the media. Yet, we are still waiting to see if any substantial legal action will be taken against him or his accomplices. Will there finally be accountability? Or will justice for these women once again be reduced to an optimistic dream, leaving survivors of gender-based violence without hope?
I have dedicated years of my life as a feminist activist to fighting for justice for survivors. But time and again, our legal system has failed to support them. We demand change, and yet little is done to reform the system that shelters perpetrators, silences women, and upholds the toxic structures of patriarchy and misogyny. We can no longer tolerate a system that treats crimes against women as insignificant or, worse, inevitable.
Men, too, must join the fight against this deeply ingrained misogyny. Speak out against moral policing, call out those who perpetuate violence, and hold your peers accountable. This is not just a women’s issue -- it is a human rights issue.
Movements such as Students Against Discrimination have opened new paths for fighting inequality in Bangladesh, but this fight must also include women's rights. We must ensure that no woman is ever again subjected to such violence, and no woman should ever feel that her existence in public is a crime.
As a society, we must stop sheltering those who harm women. We must stop silencing our women, forcing them to bear the “shame” of the violence done to them. We must stop letting their identities be defined by the crimes committed against them. It is high time we uprooted the patriarchal and misogynistic systems that have allowed such abuses to thrive.
It’s time for all of us to demand accountability from our law enforcement agencies. The police can no longer stand by and claim their hands are tied while women are abused. We must pressure our leaders and lawmakers to prioritize the safety and rights of women now. Legal reforms are overdue, and the justice system must start delivering consequences for gender-based violence, not just for the most horrifying cases (which in itself has yet to be ensured) but for every instance of abuse and harassment.
I no longer want to feel exhausted simply by existing as a woman in this country. The time for change is long overdue. Moral policing must end. The responsibility is on all of us -- to fight, to resist, and to ensure that women are free to exist in public without the constant threat of violence hanging over their heads.
Ahona Hassan is a human rights activist.
