by Areebah Ahsan
Dhaka, the upcoming urban utopia of the country, shows us countless office buildings under construction. Rows of men lift heavy bricks while a handful of women, their sarees tucked tightly around their waists, balance loads on their heads. Their sweat and struggle look no different from one another, yet everyone here knows the stark difference in their wages. “The men have family to feed,” and so do the women working under the same sun. This is the reality of the “working woman” in Bangladesh: resilient, enduring, yet constantly undervalued.
The majority of people view the working woman through a double lens. For those from typical middle-class families, her choice to work is branded as “too ambitious” within the home, but “too vulnerable” once she steps outside it. This perpetuates the stereotype that a woman stepping outside her home for work somehow still carries shame.
The Path to “Progress”
In the past decade, Bangladesh has seen a rise in women’s participation in the workforce, especially in the garment sector where nearly 80% of workers are female. Alongside this, laws, policies, and glossy NGO campaigns speak of empowerment, but the lived reality is harsher. Only 5% of these women hold leadership positions that allow them to make real change (Uckat, 2023).
The Labour Act of 2006 includes clauses for maternity benefits, workplace safety, and equal pay. Yet reports repeatedly point out how enforcement is weak. Women often lose their jobs when they become pregnant. Harassment policies exist, but asking for justice can mean risking employment altogether.
Even in white-collar offices, where women appear to “have made it,” invisible barriers remain. The gender pay gap persists, promotions are harder to achieve, and men are often favoured for leadership roles. The progress we see on paper does not necessarily mean it is implemented in real life.
Visibility Does Not Mean Equal Rights
The visibility of women in the workforce does not guarantee dignity or equality. Being seen does not mean being treated fairly.
For instance, according to a 2022 survey, 94% of Bangladeshi women reported experiencing some form of harassment in public transport (Nasrin and Chowdhury). Many working women spend hours commuting under the constant fear of being touched, followed, or humiliated. This daily insecurity makes the “right to work” a battle of endurance rather than a celebration of empowerment.
Visibility without viable protection leaves working women caught between two fires: unsafe workplaces and unsafe streets.
Constitutions and How They Fail in Practice
The Bangladeshi Constitution states in Article 27 that “every citizen is equal before law and entitled to equal protection of law,” and Article 28 prohibits discrimination on the grounds of sex. Yet lived experience reveals a deep discrepancy between laws and practices.
When a woman is harassed on a bus, she often finds no justice and is instead told to “stay home” to avoid trouble. A woman who demands equal pay risks being branded “difficult.” A woman who works late faces moral policing instead of respect for her dedication. In every case, equality remains conditional, framed by society’s comfort rather than women’s rights.
Survival as Resistance
So what does feminism mean for a working woman in Bangladesh? It is not always about grand protests or bold speeches. More often, it is quieter. It is survival as resistance.
Every day that a woman chooses to step outside her home for work, whether she is a garment worker, an office employee, a domestic helper, or a teacher, she challenges the narrative that her place is only in the home. Every time she earns her own money, speaks up in a meeting, or claims public space, she chips away at the structures that resist her.
The feminist struggle here is not about luxury. It is about survival with dignity. And every working woman carries that struggle on her shoulders, silently but persistently.
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