The invisible electorate: Why Bangladesh’s third gender remains outside election politics

The Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics (BBS) officially counts 12,629 individuals identifying as "third gender" in the country. It is a precise number, but non-governmental organisations and various studies suggest the actual figure is much higher, ranging anywhere from 50,000 to over a lakh.

The exact figure is contested, but what is not contested is the fact that even if the number were only 12,000, it would still warrant serious political attention, especially at a time when reform, rights and inclusion are being repeatedly invoked ahead of a national election.

Yet somewhere between the high-flying promises of a new Bangladesh and the ground-level implementation of policy, this community is consistently overlooked. It is a systemic exclusion that leaves people questioning their very standing in the nation.

"For years, we felt like this country doesn't really belong to us," says Rani Hijra, a prominent independent candidate from Rangpur-3. "Rather, we are its tenants."

That sentiment encapsulates the struggle of a community that exists on the periphery of political thought. As the country moves toward another national election, the air is filled with the usual campaign noise. But for the Hijra community, this noise often fades into a familiar silence.

In 54 years of independence, through changing regimes and shifting ideologies, Parliament has conducted the business of the nation without a single voice from this community inside the chamber. Even the much-discussed July Charter, born from a movement demanding reform and equity, failed to mention the community.

While political parties are currently scrambling to rebrand themselves and appeal to a broader electorate, the question remains: Does "broad" include the "outcast"?

The major political players insist that it does. In a shifting political climate where every vote counts, parties are making overtures that sound, at least on the surface, remarkably inclusive.

Assistant Media Secretary of Dhaka Metropolis South Jamaat-e-Islami Mohammad Emon emphasises a return to the basics of citizenship. Speaking to TBS, he asserts that in the eyes of his party, the criteria for respect and rights are simple: Are you a citizen of Bangladesh?

"Every citizen of Bangladesh, regardless of religion, caste, or gender, has the right to vote," Emon states. His party, often viewed through a strict religious lens, is projecting a stance of civic duty. "Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami sincerely calls upon voters of all genders to come to the polling centres. We are alert to provide them with all necessary cooperation, including security."

Emon goes a step further, using language that frames the vote as a spiritual and civic responsibility. "We consider their vote a trust — an 'amanat'. We are vocal in ensuring their voting rights." For Jamaat, the argument is legalistic and nationalistic: if you are Bangladeshi, your vote is encouraged, and the party claims to believe in a fair result derived from that participation.

On the other side of the political spectrum, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) frames the issue as one of social reconstruction. Adviser to the party's chairman and spokesperson for their election steering committee, Mahadi Amin, speaks of a "cultural shift".

"We are committed to building an inclusive society where these marginalised or underprivileged people will no longer be looked down upon with neglect," Amin tells TBS. The BNP's rhetoric suggests it wants to move beyond charity and toward structural integration. Amin acknowledges the current status of the community as outcasts and insists that the goal is mainstream integration.

"We believe that given the right opportunities and environment, these people can become invaluable assets to the country," Amin says. He outlines plans for comprehensive technical training and upskilling programmes designed to make the community employable in modern sectors. "Not neglect, but through employment and respect, we will ensure their bright future."

These are heavy promises. They speak of dignity, security, and economic value. However, the view from the ground — through the eyes of candidates like Rani and legal experts observing the transition — is far more sceptical. Words in press interviews are one thing; written commitments in election manifestos are another.

The reality, as Rani points out, is that the political architecture is still designed for men and women, leaving little room for anyone else. Even in the aftermath of the July Uprising, which was heralded as a revolution for the people, the people defined in the charters and demands seemed to overlook the third gender.

"Nobody ever in their election manifesto has mentioned us," Rani says, noting that she does not see it changing this time either. "Even the July Charter has not mentioned anything about us."

This exclusion forces the community to create its own platforms. Rani's manifesto is born out of necessity. It focuses on the rights they have been deprived of — the basics: housing, livelihood, and the simple right to exist in public spaces without harassment. "If I can be there," she says of Parliament, "these marginalised people would feel this country belongs to them finally."

The problem is that verbal assurances rarely make it into written manifestos — the documents that actually hold a party accountable. This is where the "inclusion" usually stops. The specific, gritty issues that define the daily struggle of the third gender community in Bangladesh — housing discrimination, lack of economic livelihoods, and the absence of healthcare — are missing from the political agenda.

Barrister Miti Sanjana, observing the election dynamics, points out this disconnect with sharp clarity. She argues that you cannot speak of "reform" — the buzzword of the post-July political landscape — while ignoring an entire segment of society. "I have not noticed such inclusivity in election manifestos," she says. "Since they are part of the very society we want to reform, election candidates should address this issue urgently."

Sanjana raises a point that goes beyond economics: rehabilitation and basic rights. It is one thing to offer "upskilling", but another to ensure a human being has a roof over their head or legal recourse when they are evicted because of their gender identity.

However, the most immediate fear for the community is not just about policy; it is about physical survival. The upcoming election is shrouded in anxiety regarding law and order, and the Hijra community is particularly vulnerable.

Regarding security issues, Sanjana warns, "How dangerous the mob violence has taken shape is too concerning. This will not result in a good outcome." 

She points to a structural weakness that has emerged since the July protests. The police force, having been involved in the violent suppression of the movement, has lost credibility in the eyes of the public. The institution that is meant to guard the polling booths is itself in a crisis of legitimacy. "In such a situation, they will not be able to ensure security during election time unless the government takes meaningful action."

This lack of security manifests in specific, humiliating ways for Hijra voters. It is not just about the fear of physical attack; it is the dread of harassment and mockery that keeps many away from the ballot box. Polling stations are often hostile environments. Standing in a queue with men or women often invites stares, snide comments, or outright intimidation.

Accountability is the first step. If political parties like Jamaat and the BNP are serious about "amanat" and "cultural shifts", these sentiments must be codified in their written manifestos. It is not enough to mention "minorities" in a broad sense. There needs to be specific language addressing the Hijra community, with nominated candidates in urban areas where the population is higher taking direct responsibility for engagement.

The demands are not extravagant. They are fundamental. Manifestos need to detail actions regarding housing — a sector where discrimination is rampant. They need to outline economic livelihood programmes that go beyond tokenism, offering real paths to financial independence so that begging or sex work are not the only options for survival.

Furthermore, the Election Commission has a role to play that goes beyond logistics. Strict legal protection and monitoring measures are required to prevent harassment at polling stations. This is not just about having a guard at the door; it is about training officials to treat every voter with dignity.