Reports of women being refused entry onto regular public buses, whether made in jest or whether such a practice is beginning to emerge, are not something to simply laugh off.
Every day, countless women in Dhaka travel by bus to offices, universities, schools, and for countless other reasons. For them, getting on a bus is never simply about travelling from one place to another. It involves the pressure of reaching somewhere on time, concerns about safety, the struggle to find a place in a crowded vehicle, and countless small and large discomforts that have become part of everyday life.
Consider the experience of one such woman a reflection of what many others go through. She takes public buses to work every day. One day, she raises her hand as a bus approaches. The bus stops. But as she tries to get on, she is told, “There are no seats.”
She replies, “That’s okay. I can stand.”
Yet the response is, “If we take you, we will have to take fewer male passengers.” Sometimes, even after getting on the bus, a male passenger sitting nearby may complain, “it becomes difficult to stand when women get on.” But that woman is a citizen of the same city. She too needs to reach her office at a particular time. She too needs to get home at the end of the day. And she may have no other alternative.
The question is simple: Why is a woman standing considered a problem when a man standing is treated as perfectly normal?
On Dhaka’s regular public buses, there are seats designated for women. But the reality is that these seats are often located beside the engine. Sitting there amid intense heat, noise, fumes, and discomfort can be physically difficult.
Yet women sit there because those are the seats “designated for women.” But when a woman chooses not to sit beside the engine and instead takes a relatively more comfortable seat, questions are raised: “Why are you sitting there? That is a men’s seat.”
Sometimes, it feels as though all the remaining seats on a bus are informally reserved for men, while the few designated seats for women constitute the entirety of a woman’s entitlement to public transportation.
This is where the conversation around pink buses becomes particularly important.
A separate bus service for women can, on the surface, certainly be a positive initiative. Safe, comfortable, and harassment-free transportation can make mobility easier for women. Many women may feel safer and more at ease travelling on such buses.
But an important question remains: In creating special facilities for women, is there a risk of unintentionally pushing them away from the public facilities they are equally entitled to use?
If pink buses are available, could women gradually be made to feel that boarding a regular bus is somehow “unusual”? Today, someone may jokingly say, “There are pink buses for women.” But what happens tomorrow if a bus worker actually starts believing that refusing a female passenger is somehow justified because a separate service exists?
Creating a separate arrangement for women must not, at the same time, shrink their rights on regular public transportation. A similar dynamic can already be observed in the case of women-only compartments on the metro rail.
Dedicated compartments have undoubtedly created an additional option for safety and comfort, and that is a positive development. But the problem arises when a woman cannot get into the designated compartment and chooses to board another one.
Sometimes, she may hear, “There is a women’s compartment.” But if a woman chooses to stand in another compartment because it is more convenient for her, is she actually breaking any rule?
Having a designated space and losing the right to use other spaces are not the same thing. Special facilities should not replace rights; they should make exercising those rights safer and easier.
That distinction is crucial. Safety, but not separation Why would a woman want a pink bus? Because she wants to get home without harassment. Because she wants to stand in a crowded bus without the fear of unwanted physical contact. Because she does not want to be refused entry simply because she is a woman. Because she wants the journey home at the end of a long workday to be a journey not another battle.
But that same woman also wants to be able to board a regular public bus as an ordinary passenger. She does not want her gender to determine the extent of her right to move around her own city.
Therefore, rather than questioning whether pink buses are necessary, the more important question is: Why has such a system become necessary in the first place? If the regular public transportation system is safe, respectful, and accessible to everyone regardless of gender, then a dedicated women’s bus can simply be an additional option.
But if women continue to face obstacles when boarding regular buses, standing inside them, or occupying seats, then pink buses do not solve the underlying problem. They merely provide an alternative route around it. A city should not reach a point where the solution to women’s safety is simply to separate women.
Ultimately, Dhaka needs a public transportation system where a woman does not have to wonder:
“Which bus will actually let me get on today?” Instead, she should be able to think:
“Whichever bus arrives, I can board it as a passenger.” Because safe mobility is not a privilege.
It is a basic civic right.
Samira Tasnim and ASM Rafad Asgar are Research Associates, Bangladesh Institute of Governance and Management (BIGM).
