Khaleda Zia through a feminist lens

Bangladesh's political landscape is shaped by both postcolonial legacies and deep-rooted patriarchy, creating a complex environment for female leaders. Khaleda Zia, the country's first female Prime Minister and a three-time elected head of government, stands as a symbol of both progress and contradiction. 

Her rise marked a historic achievement for women in South Asian politics. Yet, her legacy has been clouded by misrepresentation, erasure, and vilification — driven not only by political rivalry but also by persistent gender bias.

For more than two decades, Khaleda Zia, leader of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), has faced sustained attacks targeting her political career, personal life and gender. These attacks have distorted her legacy and exposed the entrenched misogyny within Bangladesh's political and media spheres. 

Particularly troubling is the silence of civil society and feminist voices, even as another female leader, Sheikh Hasina, has played a role in amplifying these hostilities.

Since the Awami League (AL) came to power, media campaigns, state-sponsored narratives, and digital propaganda have intensified these biases. Khaleda Zia's contributions have been overshadowed by narratives filled with misogyny, class-based disdain, and political contempt. Despite her historic leadership, she is often reduced to caricatures that question her morality, femininity, and competence, amplified by a digital ecosystem influenced by the state.

Khaleda Zia with Shamaruh and Safaruh Mirza. Photo: Courtesy

I first met Begum Khaleda Zia in a rest house in Thakurgaon. The atmosphere was quiet and intimate, far removed from the charged environment of Dhaka's political circles. She sat calmly, surrounded by a few aides, her presence understated yet dignified. At the time, I was young and the meeting was brief.

It was not until 2012 or 2013, when my father was taken to jail, that I truly spoke with her. During this personal crisis, Khaleda Zia offered not only political solidarity but also genuine empathy. Her words were measured and her tone graceful. She listened more than she spoke, and when she did speak, it was with the poise of someone who had weathered many storms.

There was once a tacit understanding in our society, a readiness to recognise and respect a woman simply for being a lady. Certain qualities, subtle and profound, marked women as "respectable", even if these qualities could never be fully captured in words. Unfortunately, that social contract has faded.

Gendered political narratives in South Asia

Women in South Asian politics are no strangers to patriarchal ambivalence. From Indira Gandhi in India to Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan, female political leaders have often been portrayed as either maternal figures or morally compromised opportunists. Their political identities have rarely stood independent of the men they were related to, fathers, husbands, sons.

Khaleda Zia's journey followed a similar trajectory. Initially seen as a "reluctant" leader propelled into politics after the assassination of her husband, President Ziaur Rahman, she rose to become the country's most prominent opposition figure and thrice served as Prime Minister (1991–1996, 1996-1997 and 2001–2006).

Khaleda Zia's life has been marked by profound personal loss. She lost her husband early, was coerced into politics, and later lost her son. In her later years, she endured nearly a decade of confinement. Her suffering is not unique, but the helplessness surrounding it is. That helplessness, multiplied by the absence of remedy, evokes a sorrow that feels permanent.

Khaleda's greatest flaw, perhaps, was her commitment to rules. She genuinely believed in democratic processes, a belief few in her party, or the country, shared. The 1991–96 BNP government, under Khaleda's leadership, remains one of the least corrupt in Bangladesh's history.

After the tragic assassination of her husband, President Ziaur Rahman, she was left to raise two young sons alone. Her entry into politics was of necessity, an act of survival and duty. Over time, she transformed from a grieving widow into the first female Prime Minister of Bangladesh, leading the country through turbulent times.

Unlike her male counterparts, Khaleda Zia's leadership was constantly questioned, not on policy or governance, but on personal attributes. Her attire, her speech, even her sleeping habits became fodder for ridicule. The attacks were not just political; they were deeply gendered.

Khaleda Zia did not possess advanced academic qualifications. But unlike Bhashani, she was consistently vilified for it. Despite leading the country through multiple terms as Prime Minister, her lack of formal university degrees was weaponized against her. Critics used it to undermine her legitimacy, intelligence, and capability.

This double standard reveals a deeper truth: in Bangladesh, a man's lack of education can be reframed as authenticity, while a woman's is used to discredit her.

The rise of social media has amplified gendered political bullying. Memes mocking her eyebrows, teeth, and makeup circulated widely on social media platforms, including Reddit and Facebook. These attacks were not political critiques; they were ageist, sexist, and deeply personal.

Unlike male politicians, Khaleda has been subject to moral scrutiny that disproportionately targets women. Rumours around her family, questions about her public mourning attire, and derogatory jokes about her physical appearance circulate with impunity.

One of the most egregious examples of gendered political hostility came from inside the Parliament itself. Sheikh Hasina once made degrading and false personal remarks about Khaleda Zia, comments that were not only inappropriate but emblematic of the misogyny embedded in our political culture.

Perhaps one of the most despicable examples of the misogynistic campaign against Khaleda Zia has been the ruling party's weaponisation of the term "Birangona."

Using this term as an insult, directed at Khaleda by senior AL figures was both an act of gendered violence and a betrayal of the term's sacred legacy.

What makes this incident even more troubling is the complete silence from civil society, feminist scholars, and researchers of 1971. Despite the gravity of the insult, no prominent voice from these communities publicly condemned the misuse of the term.

This silence is not neutral, it is complicity.

Feminist and human rights groups in Bangladesh have historically been vocal against gendered injustices, particularly when perpetrated by religious fundamentalists or rural patriarchal institutions. But when gendered violence emanates from the state or from within the secular, progressive elite, their silence is deafening.

Despite her historic role as the first female Prime Minister of Bangladesh, Khaleda Zia has been conspicuously absent from many feminist discourses, both within academia and civil society.

This selective empathy reveals a troubling hierarchy within feminist activism, where political alignment and class background often determine whose pain is acknowledged.

Khaleda Zia's political life offers valuable insights into how power, gender, and ideology intersect in patriarchal societies. She is not without flaws, no leader is. But her story deserves to be told with nuance and empathy. 

Khaleda Zia's story is not just political, it is profoundly feminist. And it is time we told it that way. 

Dr Shamaruh Mirza is a Bangladeshi-Australian scientist and human rights activist based in Canberra, Australia.