From Ducsu to Jucsu: What really keeps women away from the ballot box?

Hardly had the curtains closed on the Dhaka University Central Students Union (Ducsu) polls, the vibrant campus of Jahangirnagar University now pulses with its own historic rhythm. Today, after a profound 33-year long hiatus, the Jahangirnagar University Central Students' Union (Jucsu) election finally takes center stage. 

Yet, amidst this celebratory return to student democracy, a striking paradox emerges, particularly concerning female participation. Of the 11,919 registered voters, a significant 48.8% are women. However, when we shift our gaze from the ballot box to the candidate list, the picture becomes notably less balanced, revealing a troubling scarcity of female leadership.

Consider the central union election: nine candidates are vying for the prestigious vice president (VP) post, and eight for general secretary (GS). Although uncertain, the recent withdrawal of independent candidate Syeda Ananna Faria from the GS race may subtly hint at a hesitation among female students to step into top leadership roles.

The hall union elections too tell a similar story. In Begum Sufia Kamal Hall and Nawab Faizunnesa Hall, all candidates have been elected unopposed—not because of overwhelming support, but due to a lack of competition. In Faizunnesa Hall, 9 out of 15 posts are left vacant, while Sufia Kamal Hall has 5 empty seats. Across the 10 women's halls, only 34 of 150 female positions will actually see a contest, with 58 posts having no candidates at all.

This isn't just a one-off situation—it reflects a pattern subtly seen in another major student election, the recent Ducsu as well.  Take Dhaka University's Kabi Sufia Kamal Hall as an example. At this female hall alone, which had 4,434 voters, the turnout was a healthy 64%. Yet, despite being from this hall, Umama Fatema managed to secure only 20% of the votes, while Sadik Kaiyum received 1,275 votes. Even when an entire panel secured a massive mandate—including significant support from female halls—a closer look reveals a concerning trend in female participation.

Across Ducsu, female students make up nearly half (48%) of the 39,874 registered voters. Still, only 13% of central candidates were women, and just 17% at the hall level. The gender gap is particularly stark in leadership roles: among numerous contenders, there was only one female candidate for general secretary and five for vice president.

Voter engagement further highlights the disparity. While some male-dominated halls saw turnout as high as 80–88%, female halls lagged behind, with the highest turnout among them being just 68%. This suggests that while female students may show up to vote, their participation as candidates—and even overall engagement—can be significantly lower than their male peers.

This raises an important question: why do female students hesitate to step forward, both as candidates and, in some cases, as voters? 

When asked about these disparities, officials offered differing perspectives. Dr Salma Nasrin, Provost of Sufia Kamal Hall during the DUCSU elections, said, "We did not create any barricade or barrier. Students voted as they wished—whoever wanted, had cast their vote."

However, Sheikh Zinat Sharmin, the Hall Sangsad Returning Officer, offered a more nuanced explanation for the overall lower engagement of female voters. "Firstly, I think the number of male and female students is now almost equal," she noted. "In previous years, there may have even been more female students. At present, there are five residential halls for women and 12 for men. This creates a housing shortage for female students, with many having to live outside the campus. Male students don't face this problem as they can mostly stay within campus. As a result, getting to polling centres is much easier for men than for women, since many women are non-residential."

Many of these students left campus due to class suspensions, pre-leave (PL), or simply because it was too cumbersome to travel back solely for the election. This practical barrier often merges with a broader disinterest in student politics.

Jarin Ohi, a Mass Communication and Journalism major who chose not to vote, explained: "My home is in Mirpur, which is very far from campus. The back-and-forth journey is a lot of hassle. Also, I'm not really interested in politics. Many asked me to vote, but I just couldn't get into it."

Similarly, Jannatul Ferdous, from the same major, shared a different but equally telling experience. Despite being a resident, she did not cast her vote. "My parents were worried about potential clashes on campus, which is why I had to leave," she said. "Also, I'm not very familiar with the candidates since I'm not politically active—I just didn't know whom to vote for."

The logistical challenges faced by non-residents, a lack of personal interest in politics, parental concerns about campus safety, and a sense of uncertainty about making informed choices—while these factors may appear individual, together they contribute to the perception of female students as 'apolitical' and hint at deeper systemic and societal pressures shaping their participation in student democracy.

But are these the only factors at play? Beneath the surface, deeper and more insidious currents also shape female engagement in student politics. One increasingly acknowledged obstacle is the threat of cyberbullying and slut-shaming, which casts a long shadow over women's political aspirations on campus.

During the recent Ducsu elections, for instance, a male student Ali Husen was suspended for six months after advocating online for the 'gang-rape' of female candidate BM Fahmida Alam, drawing alarming agreement from others, only because she had filed a writ petition against the nomination of general secretary SM Farhad. Such abhorrent threats expose the hostile digital landscape women navigate when they dare to enter the public sphere of student politics.

In Jucsu's case, the echoes of this digital aggression are undeniable, directly impacting the willingness of female students to participate. Female candidates and voters sense this pressure very well. 

Assistant sports secretary candidate Mst Sifat Ara Rumki shared her experience, "Many female halls have very few candidates. In fact, several posts will be won unopposed. In Hall 13 (former Sheikh Hasina Hall), only six students filed nominations. Compared to men, female participation is much lower. Regarding cyber bullying and harassment, personally, I haven't faced anything like that yet, but I've heard that many female candidates have experienced unpleasant incidents—sometimes from outsiders, and occasionally even from people on campus."

Lamia Rahman Toushi Purnata, an independent candidate for Joint General Secretary (Female), laid bare the challenging reality. "This time in Jucsu, in the hall unions, the number of female candidates was extremely low," she said. "There are 15 seats in the hall unions and 25 in the central committee. In our hall, the VP will be elected uncontested because no one stood against her. At my Fazilatunnesa Hall, only three positions—GS, AGS, and Literary Secretary—have female contenders. For all other posts, no women even submitted nominations. Overall, women's participation in Jucsu is very limited."

Toushi unequivocally identified harassment as a major deterrent for female participation, recounting her own harrowing experience. "From the very beginning of my campaign, when I was responding to journalists' questions and getting media coverage, my character assassination started," she said. "There were personal attacks, abusive comments, and smear campaigns. It didn't stop there—people even used photos of my parents and issued rape threats. My inbox is flooded with threats and obscene messages. These are exactly the reasons why women remain hesitant to engage in JUCSU."

She also highlighted the systematic nature of these attacks: "Many Facebook pages were created using the 'JU'. Some were Shibir-controlled, some run by Chhatra Dal. They used those platforms to attack opponents, targeting personal lives and spreading abusive content."

Toushi's journey also reflects the broader skepticism independent female candidates face. "I didn't want to compromise my ethics just for the sake of elections, so I avoided joining any party or panel. But during my campaign, even students from my own university came up to me and said: 'She doesn't know anything about politics, yet she's running.' That broke my strength a bit. Imagine. When the very people I am seeking votes from hear this, what impression would they form about me?"

Despite these immense challenges, Toushi expressed cautious optimism about Jucsu's potential to differ from Ducsu. "I truly believe Jucsu will not be like Ducsu. Ours is a fully residential university. Even though there are 12,000 students, the community is much more close-knit—everyone knows each other's face, background, and capabilities," she articulated.

"I do believe women here are conscious, independent-minded, and want practical changes and basics like freedom in clothing and the removal of curfew-like restrictions, and therefore I believe they will vote," she said.

However, as a candidate, she could not ignore certain concerns about the election process. "Voting will take place inside women's halls, but male journalists will not be allowed to enter. Yet the majority of journalists sent by media houses are men. In my 12 days of campaigning, I didn't see a single female journalist—every reporter who approached me was male. There has been no clarification on whether female journalists will be allowed. Even regarding polling agents, there is no clear mechanism. How will we know whether the process inside is free and fair? The election authorities have not clarified these questions," she pointed out.