Between reform and repression: Bangladesh’s crucial test on women’s rights

When a woman is raped inside her marriage, does she bleed differently?

Is her right to property void because she's not a man?

If a man can marry four women, is she a wife or a prisoner on rotation?

Does she need permission to breathe, or is that optional too?

These are not rhetorical questions. These are the questions Bangladesh must now answer.

The Women's Reform Commission, created to enshrine dignity, rights, and legal protections for half the population, has now become the battlefield between progressive justice and patriarchal control in the name of religion.

And at the centre of this storm stands Dr Muhammad Yunus, globally celebrated for empowering rural women through microcredit, now heading a caretaker government that must choose: will he stand by those women or surrender to those who want to burn their hopes in the name of religion?

Already, the backlash is swelling.

Powerful religious factions, most vocally Hefazat-e-Islam, have declared open war on the Commission's core proposals—branding them as threats to faith, tradition, and "moral order".

What exactly are they so afraid of? Equal inheritance for daughters? A woman's right to say no—even inside marriage? Recognition that sex workers are workers? A ban on polygamy without consent?

The "western agenda" card

What if the idea that women deserve equal rights, bodily autonomy, and dignity came from the West, or Mars, or Saturn's third moon? Does it make it any less right? Any less humane? We don't reject electricity, antibiotics, or the internet because of where they came from. But women's rights? Suddenly, it's a threat.

Human rights are global—so should be our commitment to them, not concern. The truth is: when women rise, everyone rises.

As Amartya Sen said, "Anything that enhances human freedom is good."

And this reform? It's not just good. It's overdue.

Equal inheritance and property rights can't wait

Property isn't just about money—it's about power. When daughters inherit equally and wives have a legal claim to half the matrimonial assets, women are no longer economically tethered to men for survival. That is the real fear—not theological purity, but the unravelling of patriarchal control.

The Women's Reform Commission proposes two landmark reforms:

Article 3.2.2.1.11 (a) calls for equal inheritance rights between sons and daughters.

Article 3.2.2.1.11 (b) suggests a voluntary 50-50 division of marital property upon divorce.

Equal inheritance rights are a must to adapt. When women are denied what is rightfully theirs—through coercion, silence, or religious manipulation—they will finally have the law of the property as a safety net.

The 50-50 marital property clause may invite controversy, and ideally, both parties should be equally involved in determining division. But in Bangladesh's context—where religious structures allow a woman to be divorced through just three words, often leaving her homeless with children—this reform offers necessary safeguarding.

It ensures women aren't left with nothing after years of unpaid care work and emotional labour. The reform provides a legal recourse. If a woman is denied her share or abused under the pretext of religion, she will have the law of the land to protect her.

Tunisia, Indonesia, and Malaysia—Muslim-majority nations—have already reformed family and property laws in favour of gender justice while respecting religious frameworks. They are no less Islamic. They are simply more just.

This isn't just a Muslim woman's issue. Hindu, Christian, Buddhist, and Indigenous women also face deep inequality. Hindu personal law doesn't allow daughters any inheritance at all. These women, too, deserve equal protection under the Constitution.

This right to land and property is not only a gender issue—it is a climate and survival issue, as outlined in Chapter 17 of the reform commission: The Impact of Pollution and Climate Change on Women – Ensuring Women's Participation in Environmental Justice. In a country like Bangladesh, on the frontlines of climate disaster, land is not just wealth; it is resilience. Women, especially in rural areas, are central to agricultural labour, food systems, and adaptation strategies.

But if they are excluded from owning or making decisions about land, they are also excluded from shaping our climate response. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) estimates that global food insecurity could be reduced by 20 per cent if women had equal access to land.

Yet here in Bangladesh, Islamic inheritance law typically grants women only one-third, and in reality, many receive none at all due to cultural pressure or outright denial. Hindu personal law grants no inheritance rights to daughters. This systemic deprivation undermines not only women's rights but the entire nation's capacity for climate resilience and sustainable development.

The 50-50 property reform and equal inheritance proposal are not just about individual dignity—they are tools of economic stability, climate security, and constitutional justice. They must be passed not only because they are right—but because they are urgent, pragmatic, and nationally strategic.

Let's talk about the sacred cows: Polygamy, child marriage, and marital rape

One of the boldest and most controversial pillars of the Women's Reform Commission is its challenge to three deeply rooted practices: polygamy, child marriage, and marital rape.

Under Article 3.2.3.1.1(c), the Commission proposes: "The practice of polygamy will be abolished." And in the "Immediate Plan" under Section 3.2.1, it demands that the minimum legal age of marriage be set at 18 for girls and polygamy be prohibited across all religions, with no exceptions.

These proposals have enraged the mullahs—like pouring acid on their authority. A viral video from a Hefazat-e-Islam rally opposing the reform showed a speaker claiming, "In Islam, a girl of age six is allowed to be married off." This isn't official policy, but the fact that such rhetoric can be spoken aloud in public should concern every citizen. The implications of inaction are dire.
These clauses are not an attack on religion; it is a defence of girls' lives. It creates child mothers, increases maternal death and long-term health risks, disrupts education, and traps families in poverty. It also violates a girl's sexual and reproductive health rights at the most basic level.

Polygamy, too, is less about religion than about control. It allows men to marry multiple women—often without the consent or knowledge of their existing wives. It treats women like replaceable units in a patriarchal assembly line. And when a girl is too young to give informed consent, that's not marriage; that's state-sanctioned abuse. That marriage encourages legalised rape.

Meanwhile, marital rape remains legal under Section 375, Exception 2 of the Penal Code, 1860, which allows husbands to rape their wives if they are over 13. The Commission rightly calls for its criminalisation under Article 3.2.2.1.1 (a).

These interconnected practices—polygamy, child marriage, and unacknowledged marital rape—enable unchecked male power. They allow a man to marry four women without consent, wed off a 15-year-old daughter, beat his wife under the guise of "discipline", and deny her medical care—all without consequence. This is not faith. This is abuse. And the Women's Reform Commission is the first structured attempt to challenge that system.

These reforms finally give women the legal ground to say:

 "No, I don't consent to be wife number two."
 "No, I won't be married off at 14."
 "No, you can't control my uterus like it's your household asset."

If marital rape is not criminalised, child marriage will grow, and sexual violence within homes will persist—quietly sanctioned by the law. Sexual coercion—even within marriage—is gender-based violence and must be addressed as such.

The claim made by certain Islamic political factions that "marriage grants automatic consent" stands in stark contrast to the core ethical teachings of Islam. Islamic jurisprudence and ethics emphasise mutual respect, compassion, and the absolute prohibition of harm within marital relationships.

In conservative societies like Bangladesh, discussions of sex and sexuality are cloaked in taboo and silence, particularly for women. This culture of secrecy means that most women do not speak about painful or forceful sexual experiences with their husbands. No matter what statistics are lacking, testimonies reveal that "correction sex"—the use of forced sex to discipline or subjugate a woman—is a widespread yet unspoken form of domestic torture.

Article 3.2.2.1.1 (a) – criminalising marital rape can be considered on these grounds. First of all, there is no denial in accepting the marital rape. Yes, concerns about potential misuse or fabrication of cases must be addressed responsibly. Introduce a gender-sensitive verification system involving psychosocial assessment and legal oversight to ensure justice for survivors of marital rape while deterring and penalising proven false accusations without discouraging genuine complaints.

These reforms might seem radical. At this moment, they must have passed. Without delay. Without fear. Without apology.

One law, equal rights: why Bangladesh must adopt a uniform family code

In a country where religion often dictates a woman's legal fate, the Women's Reform Commission's call for a Uniform Family Law (Article 3.2.1.2.1) is transformative.

It proposes one equal legal framework for all citizens—across marriage, divorce, custody, and inheritance—regardless of religion. This aligns with the Constitution's promise of equality (Articles 27 and 28) and pushes Bangladesh to finally uphold its CEDAW commitments, long undermined by religious exceptions.

In Article 3.2.3.1.1, it goes further—proposing specialised family courts and the abolition of triple talaq, bringing procedural fairness and consistency into matters long governed by religious disparity.

In Bangladesh, a man can still end a marriage with three words, leaving his wife—often barred from work or property—destitute and abandoned with children. Hindu women have no formal right to divorce; Christian women face colonial-era restrictions. Across faiths, the legal ground is uneven—and women pay the price.

A uniform family law fixes this.

Proposals that demand clarity and structural justice

As I reviewed the following proposals from the Women's Reform Commission, I found several areas that require reconsideration, clarification, or structural redesign.

Inclusive representation (article 7.3.1.1.1) – needs structural rethinking

The proposal to elect both one male and one female representative per constituency may sound inclusive, but in practice, it risks doubling Parliament to 600+ members, which is politically and structurally unsustainable. This risks turning symbolic parity into logistical dysfunction.

The recommendation is – instead of expanding seats, introduce a binding mandate requiring every political party—including Jamaat-e-Islami, Hefazat-e-Islam, and all others—to nominate at least one-third women candidates for general elections, with a clear roadmap toward 50:50 gender representation.

Across the report, the term "women" is used exclusively, despite legal recognition of a third gender in Bangladesh since 2013. This weakens the reform's inclusivity.

Revise the policy language throughout to explicitly include not only cisgender women but also trans women, non-binary individuals, and gender-diverse people, particularly in areas of political participation, education, healthcare, and employment.

Legal protection for sex workers – rights yes, coercion no

There are voluntary sex workers and survival sex workers. (Article 3.2.1.3.3) of the reform proposes to decriminalise and recognise sex work as labour to protect a vulnerable group.

"Rights Yes" signals support for recognising sex work as legitimate labour when entered into voluntarily, with legal protections, healthcare access, and dignity.

"Coercion No" emphasises that decriminalisation should not mean indifference to exploitation. Many engage in sex work not out of real choice but because they have no other economic options. Legal recognition must not become a way to ignore structural poverty or normalise exploitation.

The recommendation is to protect voluntary sex workers' rights—but also expand dignified employment opportunities in line with SDG 8 (Decent Work and Economic Growth), so that sex work is never the only economic option.

The Women's Reform Commission is a moment in history where we can break free from the fears that have been used to justify the oppression of women, be it in the name of religion, culture, or any other obstacle.

If the interim government, under the leadership of Nobel Laureate Dr Muhammad Yunus—himself a global symbol of women's empowerment—fails to act boldly, it will signal that even neutrality can become betrayal. It will show that the state still fears the liberation of women more than the oppression they endure.

It will not just be a reform—it will be a revolution. A revolution of justice. A revolution of equality. And if done right, it will be remembered as the moment when Bangladesh did not just imagine gender equality—it led the world in making it real.

Ishrat Binte Rouf.

Ishrat Binte Rouf is a women's rights advocate and development strategist who works as program lead at GenLab.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.