Where are the July Uprising's women?
TBS speaks to five female protestors and organisers of the July Uprising to understand what altered women’s role on student-led public platforms since August and their concerns amid the latest countrywide uptick of violence against women

The weather is very unpredictable in Sylhet. "So when it started raining in the middle of July at night, rescheduling the programme at 10 pm [on the campus grounds] was considered," Nourin Jaman, a student protestor at Shahjalal University of Science and Technology (SUST) recalls.
"But it had to be done, even in the rain."
Nourin first saw 50-70 female students exiting their dormitories, starting from SUST's Jahanara Imam Hall, marching to the male halls to get them out and join the demonstration as well.
The students were frustrated and riled up. The former prime minister Hasina called these students "razakars" at a press meet on 14 July last year — a term for anti-liberation paramilitary forces in erstwhile East Pakistan who collaborated against the independence movement in 1971.
This word gained weight in the following decades and was used as a slur. Hasina used this term to address the students involved in quota protests, which had spread among universities across district lines by then.
However, that comment fueled the protests further.
"I have never heard women so loud, I mean, in unison. Whenever I see the videos, the echoes of the slogans and chants pierce through the sound of rain," said Nourin, "The women got out, got drenched and marched in large numbers."
That night was a pivotal moment in the July Uprising, perhaps even a defining one, as it started to turn a quota reform protest into something much larger. And the footage of female students first marching out in large numbers across public university campuses and Eden College swarmed the media and the internet.
That was just the beginning.
When we demand our rights, when we protest for our issues, it no longer aligns with the overall demand. In fact, they [male counterparts] were not much different back then — they were not open to the idea of us — it was only that our demands aligned. I think we [women] misunderstood that solidarity."
On 15 July, female protestors at Dhaka University were brutally assaulted by Chhatra League (Awami League's student wing). Images of women being beaten up, bloodied at the hands of AL thugs quickly went viral.
But that neither quelled the protests, nor did it discourage women from participating in them.
However, after eight months since Hasina's ousting, things have changed. Where have the July Uprising's women gone?
We spoke to five female protestors and organisers of the July Uprising to understand what altered women's role on student-led public platforms and their concerns amid the latest countrywide uptick of violence against women.
'We misunderstood the unity'
Soon after the previous regime fell, the solidarity among protestors crumbled, bit by bit.
"After victory [5 August], the women took a step back, certainly," said Maliha Namlah, a Jahangirnagar University student and protest organiser, adding, "I can't say that someone [actively] sidelined the women. But because of the situation, yes, many opted to step aside."
She was among the protestors who faced violent attacks by the Chhatra League on campus on the fateful night of 14 July and part of the movement which saw Jahangirnagar University campus declare it as the first university free of the Awami League's student wing.
Maliha pointed at the "internal, nasty politics" from personal experience that stemmed from differing points of view or agendas. "Those who came to do good for the country felt as though everything is different and everyone has a different agenda and eventually that this is not their place."
While Maliha cannot speak for all female protestors who took a backseat, she said she has observed this kind of 'scaling back' far and wide.
Nourin reiterated, "Back then, we did not heed the call of the men when we stepped out, we went out of our own volition. When the women cried out their demands, it aligned with the men's as well. We all wanted the same thing."
But now, that is far from the case, she explained. "When we demand our rights, when we protest for our issues, it no longer aligns with the overall demand. In fact, they [male counterparts] were not much different back then — they were not open to the idea of us — it was only that our demands aligned. I think we [women] misunderstood that solidarity."
Nourin was living in a mess at the time. On 18 July, when the provost stood in front of her hall at 8 am and asked, "Who will ensure your safety when the police enter?" recalled Nourin, "The women left. I sheltered five of my batchmates."
Nourin kept participating in the protests.

Once the dust settled and the students achieved "victory", did the gender status quo revert back to pre-uprising times?
"It happens every time as part of gender politics. Political power is grabbed by men, sidelining women. There are numerous such instances in history," said Dr Soma Dey, associate professor of Gender Studies at Dhaka University, "It happened in communist Russia, Iran, after the independence of India from colonisers, even in Bangladesh following the Liberation War."
"Women are always taken as reserved army and sent back home or under men's custody when the emergency or crisis is over," she added.
"I remember seeing many women on the streets. The solidarity and the determination were unmatched," Raya Wasifa, a Gono Bishwabidyalay graduate and protestor, explained.
Wasifa took to the streets in mid-July when the protests reached Gazipur. At the time, she was preparing for her BCS exams for the second time. She flocked from one area to the other, initially looking to join a rally with her younger sister. Then she moved to Uttara, to a cousin's house and participated in protests there.
"It wasn't like we were safe then. We risked our safety every time," she added.
While there are scores of examples of female protestors' participation and contribution to the uprising — for example, how they ousted BCL cadres from many campuses — it is not being proportionately reflected in student-led platforms' decision-making and leadership roles, let alone as spokespersons for a said student party or committee.

A national gender bias
With time, harsh realities set in.
Wasifa is a member of the central executive committee of the July Revolution Alliance (JRA), a 150-member volunteer unit which focuses on archiving July atrocities, among other things. "JRA listed 18 female martyrs, not all exclusively student protestors."
One of the female student martyrs is Nafisa Marwa, a 17-year-old college student protestor who was shot dead by police on 5 August. Wasifa met her family for the archival work. "These families' common plea is for the government's effective assistance."
JRA organised an exhibition titled "Brave Daughters of July" in February to bring focus back to women's contribution to the uprising. "The objective is to not let people forget," said Wasifa, adding that the topic almost never takes centre stage in national discourse.
Families, citing safety concerns sometimes, discourage women to get involved in politics or take a frontline position in fear of attacks.
At the same time, on campuses, comments like, "'What will you know about this [politics, decisions], go home or step back,' have become prevalent," said Rupaiya Shrestha Tanchangya, a Mass Communication and Journalism student at Dhaka University.
She explained how women are not only aggressively sidelined by misogyny, and their roles downplayed, but she has also heard people drawing parallels to Sheikh Hasina and Khaleda Zia as women political leaders.
Rupaiya fully joined in the protests on 15 July after her friend's head was cracked open by BCL cadres on campus. "When the dorms emptied, I remember I felt compelled to make sure I took up space there."
Rupaiya spent most of her time in protest at Shahbagh, Shaheed Minar and Science Lab. On 4 August, her brother was picked up by BCL in Mohammadpur, where they reside. He was taken to the local councilor Afif's office and severely beaten. Only when Awami League workers became busy in a meeting did one of them release Rupaiya's brother.
"His clothes were torn. He fell to the ground. Some protestors saw him and rescued him," remembered Rupaiya, who is a member of the Executive Committee of the Anti-Discrimination Student Movement (Central Coordinator) and Bangladesh Democratic Student Union's joint convener.
On 15 January this year, Rupaiya would again come under attack. She was among those severely injured in front of the NCTB building in January. The NCTB came under fire for using the word "indigenous" in their books, and a group of people under the banner of Students for Sovereignty demanded its removal.
Rupaiya was among the counter-protestors. This clash resulted in photos of female protestors bleeding from the head — reminiscent of the 15 July attack of BCL cadres on DU female students.
All this boils down to women's safety. When that is threatened and attacked time and again, it is likely to see a lowered participation of women in politics or hold them back from leadership roles.
Nusrat Noor, a Stamford University student and a July Uprising protestor, said, "The female protestors were relentlessly attacked [after the uprising]. I can recall seeing less female faces post-uprising. For instance, we don't get to see much of Nusrat apu [Nusrat Tabassum, a key coordinator] anymore. Even after she became a part of the NCP. I can't say why, but all of us have made observations as such."
These attacks also take the form of smear campaigns and character assassinations, which spread like wildfire online.
"I am personally not interested in politics, I protested from a place of principle then," said Nusrat Jahan, the girl who put her hands up against a police van on 31 July in protest. That picture became a symbolic element of the July Uprising and women's role in it.
Speaking of safety on the ground, Nusrat Jahan said, "The government will be successful when it can dissolve the fear among women for their safety on the streets," she added.
The interim government's failure to address, let alone curb, violence against women came across all these conversations.
Even as recently as 6 March, a guy got bail over harassment of a DU female student because a mob demanded it, noted Nourin.
Later, the female student had to withdraw her case amid threats.
"As a nation that is patriarchal and bound by societal norms, we are not ready to listen to women's voices, that is the problem," said Nourin.
In the end of it all, perhaps we all must ask the interim government, the reform commissions, advisory councils, the student-led committees, parties and platforms — where are the July Uprising's women?