How the silence around reproductive health endangers Bangladeshi women

On 24 April, a legal notice was issued against Tasnim Jara, a senior joint member-secretary of the National Citizen Party, for the content on her YouTube channel, where she discusses topics related to sexual and reproductive health, including menstruation and pregnancy.

Jara, who is also a co-founder of a health-tech start-up named Shohay, was accused of spreading 'obscene' and 'pornographic' content under the guise of healthcare. The legal notice against her has since been withdrawn following public backlash.

Earlier this year, in March, Dhaka Metropolitan Police (DMP) Commissioner Sheikh Md Sajjat Ali sparked controversy during the launch of 'HELP'—an app designed to assist women in reporting sexual harassment, assault, and rape on public transport—when he urged journalists and the media to avoid using the word rape as it made him feel uncomfortable.

These events are not isolated incidents; they are symptoms of a deeper discomfort within Bangladeshi society. This discomfort causes women's bodies to be treated as taboo, their pain as inconvenient, and their health as a source of shame. In Bangladesh, the unease that men—especially powerful men—experience around women's bodies often manifests in policy and censorship, fostering a culture of silence around issues vital to women's survival.

When conversations around menstruation, unwanted pregnancies, sexual relationships, contraception, and even medical consultation are shrouded in silence and shame—both publicly and privately—reproductive health becomes mired in confusion, misinformation, and misunderstanding. 

According to human rights activist Shahana Huda Ranjana, this creates an environment where ignorance thrives and accurate information is stifled.

However, when individuals—particularly women—attempt to raise awareness about women's bodies or challenge the taboos surrounding them, their efforts are frequently dismissed as inappropriate or even pornographic.

Trained to look away from childhood

According to Aditi Sabur, professor of gender studies at Dhaka University, gender socialisation in Bangladesh is highly segregated, and discourse around the body is often absent altogether. While conversations sometimes occur within women-only or girls-only spaces, men are entirely excluded, contributing to a culture of repression.

Sabur explains, "When a child asks, 'Why do women bleed and men don't?' they are told, 'You'll find out when you're older.' Our repressive socialisation prevents us from learning about one another's bodies."

The lack of comprehensive knowledge about reproductive health is further compounded by families, schools, media, and other state institutions that collectively avoid providing platforms for open discussion.

Dr Mohammad Bellal Hossain, professor in the Department of Population Sciences at Dhaka University, gives examples: "In many households, you'll see men's undergarments washed and hung to dry in the sun, but never women's. At school, textbooks often skip these topics altogether. Female teachers in girls' schools may cover them, but in co-educational settings, the discussions are entirely absent."

Raised in such environments, people struggle to discuss these issues even at home—let alone in public.

This dynamic leads many men to view discussions about women's bodies as shameful or inappropriate. Many women internalise these same beliefs, further silencing themselves.

"In Bangladesh," says Dr Hossain, "these topics are taboo at a societal level, impacting both men and women. Cultural and religious norms contribute to widespread discomfort—even among women—around discussing reproductive health."

When conversations around menstruation, unwanted pregnancies, sexual relationships, contraception, and even medical consultation are shrouded in silence and shame—both publicly and privately—reproductive health becomes mired in confusion, misinformation, and misunderstanding.

Societal impact

The stigma and shame surrounding reproductive health result in serious consequences for women across all age groups. "Whether or not we are prepared to talk about it, menstruation typically begins around age ten, and by sixteen, most girls are already facing reproductive health challenges. Women silently endure infections and diseases for years," Ranjana notes. 

Men's discomfort also results in disengagement from family planning beyond the initial decision to have children. Dr Hossain explains, "Family planning isn't just about deciding how many children to have. What about antenatal care? Many men consider these responsibilities solely women's business."

In professional spaces, the silence around women's health creates unsafe and inhospitable working conditions. "The stigma is so pervasive that even basic issues like menstrual health are ignored. There's a lack of policies around sexual harassment, and even fundamental needs—like access to clean bathrooms—are unmet," Sabur observes. 

She adds that poor hygiene in public toilets deters women from using them altogether, increasing the risk of urinary tract infections. Unlike men, women cannot relieve themselves in public spaces, adding another layer of vulnerability.

This problem extends to schools, where inadequate facilities and silence around menstruation sometimes lead parents to withdraw their daughters from education altogether, cutting them off from public life.

As girls grow up in a culture that suppresses their reproductive health concerns, fewer women feel empowered to speak out. Those who do often face a backlash that drowns out their voices. "Even people in healthcare and education hesitate to speak due to fear—stigmatised as immoral or obscene," says Ranjana.

Worse still, denying boys and men access to accurate information leaves them to learn about reproductive health through myths, hearsay, or pornography—deepening misconceptions that persist across generations.

How to address the issue

A vast number of people—men and women alike—suffer in silence due to a lack of knowledge about reproductive health. This leads not only to poor physical outcomes but also to psychological trauma, mistrust in healthcare, and cycles of intergenerational misinformation.

Yet, when individuals try to break the silence, systems are quick to suppress them.

Ranjana poses some urgent questions: "When will we create a safe environment for open discussion of reproductive health? When will our youth access accurate information instead of being misled by ignorance? Why must women constantly fight simply to speak about their own bodies?"

Dr Sabur believes the issue is systemic, rooted in male-dominated societal structures that are not engaged in the solution. "We talk about women's rights, we teach women to know their rights," she says, "but we don't teach men how to coexist with empowered women. They've not been taught equality or reproductive health."

She acknowledges the change will be difficult and take a generation to achieve. She advocates for change beginning within the family: "We must dismantle toxic masculine norms. Boys need to unlearn harmful ideas and be given accurate information early in life. With proper socialisation, they grow into more responsible adults."

Dr Hossain also stresses the importance of family: "We need a generation sensitised to these topics. If parents can openly talk to their children about menstruation and pregnancy, they'll normalise these conversations early on."

However, since families can be difficult to influence, he emphasises the role of schools in driving change.

"The correct term is Sexual and Reproductive Health and Rights (SRHR). When sexual is considered taboo, reproductive becomes taboo by association," he explains. He advocates for the introduction of Comprehensive Sexuality Education (CSE) at the school level.

"CSE is widely misunderstood and demonised, making policymakers hesitant. But this is a Unesco-developed curriculum that's age-appropriate. What's taught to a five-year-old is different from what's taught to a ten-year-old or an eighteen-year-old," he concludes.