Anjana Rani: Making space for women in Bangladesh’s livestock sector through her own success

Anjana Rani. Photo: Courtesy

'Women in men's field' — a cliché, a once popular meme trend on social media used to satirically portray women entering traditionally male domains. But that cliché was the reality for Anjana Rani, a woman who started to provide a service in her village: artificial insemination for cows.

She put up posters announcing her service, but men in her village in Kurigram were not happy with this.

"This is not a woman's job. Put the posters down," they said.

She did not.

Years later, she would go on to inseminate thousands of cows, earning respect in a field that had long been 'men-only'.

"I knew from childhood to ignore baseless criticism," said Anjana, who grew up as the youngest of four siblings in a farming family. Her father was the only earner, and life was far from easy. 

"We were never financially stable," she said. "Our parents made sure we went to school every day, but when we came home, there were always chores waiting."

Her attachment to animals began early. She reared goats and cows as companions when she felt isolated. "People were always quick to remind me of my place as a girl," she said. "Animals never did that. They were my friends."

When Anjana lost her mother to cancer while in college, her life changed again. The family had to take on more work, and dreams were postponed. She once considered joining the police, but her brother stopped her. Later, she was married off during her first year of college.

Her father gave her a cow as a wedding gift. "We moved into a small tin-shed house," she recalled. "I told my husband that I wanted to stand on my own feet." The couple began rearing cows, goats, and chickens, but when their animals fell ill, treatment costs became a burden.

Then came a turning point. A women's group officer suggested they receive livestock training. "None of the women were interested," she said. "But I volunteered."

This year, so far, Anjana has inseminated 1,370 cows. Her goal for next year is 2,000. She also plans to learn vaccination and basic animal treatment. "The whispers have stopped now," she said. "More women have joined this field. I am happy I could set an example."

Anjana's first training took place in remote Kurigram, followed by another in rural Mymensingh. "For many of us, it was the first time leaving home by ourselves," she said. The sessions were dominated by men who often made things difficult. "They would get the instructor's number and arrive early to take all the front seats. We were expected to cook for everyone too."

When Anjana and other women refused to cook beef out of respect for Hindu participants, some men objected. The officers intervened, making everyone responsible for their own meals and reserving the front rows for women.

The harassment did not stop there. "The men somehow found our phone numbers and started sending lewd messages," she said. "We complained and it stopped, but that experience left us shaken."

But despite the hostility, Anjana ultimately found freedom in travel and learning.

A local vet in her village had once inseminated her cow, and she saw the value in learning the skill herself. She persistently called the officer every week until she was finally enrolled. "It was a 45-day training, and I got a certificate at the end," she said.

Anjana Rani. Photo: Courtesy

Graduates were told they could work for BRAC if they completed one more course, which cost Tk60,000.

The fee was reduced to Tk30,000 for women, payable in instalments. "Even then, many were hesitant," she said. "People talked. Travelling outside our homes was frowned upon."

When the course ended, the women were told to promote their new services. But as soon as she put up posters, she started getting calls from men asking her to come see cows that did not exist. "They would send threats from anonymous numbers." She eventually filed a general diary with the police.

Her first real job came through a vet who had heard of her training. "It was the scariest day of my life," she said. "My hands were shaking. I was afraid of what failure would mean." But the insemination worked and the cow became pregnant.

Still, success did not silence critics immediately. People said that she would not succeed in this line of work because she was a woman. "But I was determined to let my work speak for itself."

Over time, it did. She built a brick house, paid for her son's education, and earned the trust of her clients.

This year, so far, Anjana has inseminated 1,370 cows. Her goal for next year is 2,000. She also plans to learn vaccination and basic animal treatment. "The whispers have stopped now," she said. "More women have joined this field. I am happy I could set an example."

Anjana's story, according to her, is not only about survival but about conviction. "No matter how harsh the criticism, all you need is confidence — and a bit of support."