'No one gives us a chance': Hijra community leaders lay bare systemic exclusion

No one hires them. No one rents them a home. And in classrooms, they are laughed out of learning – not just by peers, but sometimes by teachers too.

For members of the Hijra community, officially recognised as the "Hijra gender", life remains a battle for existence on every front – from education to employment, from getting a National ID to the right to inherit family property.

At a roundtable organised jointly by Bandhu Social Welfare Society (Bandhu) and The Business Standard and supported by Outright International on Wednesday morning at TBS conference room, community leaders spoke of a life built around exclusion, prejudice and bureaucratic walls.

Sajjadur Rahman, deputy editor of TBS, moderated the roundtable, where 16 representatives from the coalition of the Hijra community shared their views and experiences.

"Even after the government recognised us as hijra gender, nothing changed," said Rani Chowdhury, brand ambassador of the CKDL. "We are visible on papers, but invisible in society."

The leaders detailed how basic rights remain out of reach. Getting included in the voter list or obtaining a passport requires endless paperwork and often humiliation. Landlords routinely refuse to rent those homes. Employers won't hire them.

And when they try to study, bullying and mockery drive many out of school long before they can finish.

"They call us names, they make us feel less than human," said Sadia Islam Nishat of the Bangladesh Hijra Unnayan Shangstha.

The government introduced a monthly allowance of Tk600 for the disabled and insolvent aged 50 and above and education stipends for students from the Hijra community in the fiscal 2012-13. But even that comes with barriers. To access the benefit, applicants must undergo a medical test to "prove" their gender identity.

"It's humiliating," said Anwari, president of the Padda Kuri Hijra Shongho. "Why must we prove who we are to get what is rightfully ours?"

Behind all this lies a deeper rejection from families who disown them and from a society that refuses to see them as equals said, Nishat.

At the roundtable titled "From margins to mainstream: Coalition of Hijra community takes on media to shape action into power tilled roundtable", Tanisha Yesmin Chaity, project officer at Bandhu, presented the keynote paper. She said, according to Articles 28(2) and 28(3) of the Bangladesh Constitution, no citizen shall be discriminated against based on religion, race, caste, gender, or place of birth. So, the question arises – do those identifying as Hijra not exist? If they do, where are their rights and place in society?

She added that recognising Hijras as a separate gender in 2013 was a historic step, but not enough. "We now need constitutional recognition through legislation in Parliament," she said.

Chaity highlighted that the Department of Social Services began implementing the Hijra Livelihood Development Programme in 2013, and the 2022 census counted 12,629 Hijras, later revised by the BBS to 8,214 in 2023. However, community members believe the real number is much higher. She stressed the need for updated and effective policies, including planned housing and land allocation priority for elderly Hijras.

Farha Farin, human rights activist, said, "Mental health services are said to be open for all, but not for us. Many providers treat us as aliens once they hear we are Hijra. This stigma creates fear and prevents us from seeking help. Some even end their lives due to this mental battle. We want an environment of trust, not fear."

Ms Mohona, president of Diner Alo Hijra Shongha, Rajshahi, said, "Legal aid remains difficult for us. Complex procedures make many give up halfway. Though the government has issued directives, their implementation is weak, and officials often don't know how to apply them."

Rakhi Sheikh, president of Shopnojoyee Foundation, said, "Our unique needs are often ignored. Existing policies lack clarity and coordination, so good initiatives stall midway. Our real experiences and dreams must shape inclusive policies."

Tamanna Moni, a member of Prantoj Foundation, Khulna, said superstitions and discrimination limit their participation in social and economic life. "Misconceptions and lack of inclusive policies fuel social hatred. Awareness campaigns are needed to help society understand who we are and why we deserve respect."

As one participant summed up, "We are citizens of this country, but no one gives us a place – not in homes, not in jobs, not even in hearts."