Keywords

The forced migration of the Rohingya started in 1978. It worsened in 2012 and reached its climax in 2017. The atrocities committed by the Myanmar military and the denial of Myanmar citizenship have forced approximately one million Rohingya to seek refuge in neighbouring Bangladesh. While in Myanmar, the acts of murder, rape, and other forms of sexual violence carried out by the military have had devastating effects on the physical and psychological well-being of the refugees, continuing even after they arrived in Bangladesh. Many refugee women have never been able to fully recover from the traumatic experiences. Rather, they continue to experience different forms of violence in their country of destination, Bangladesh.

In a continuum of violence, the Rohingya experienced different forms of violence at different times and in different spaces. Following Galtung, I classified them as direct violence (murder, killings, physical injury and torture, rape, and other forms of sexual violence, perpetrated mainly by the Myanmar military), structural violence (pervasive poverty, discrimination in education and access to resources and services, patriarchy, and intimate partner violence) and cultural violence (religious and cultural logics that justify violence) (Galtung, 1969, 1990, 1996). In this book, I explored how these different forms of violence are gendered or how we could explain them from a gender perspective, using the lens of intersectionality.

As is evident from the existing news and research, violence erupted in 2012 with a gendered rumour about the rape of a Buddhist woman in Rakhine State by Muslim Rohingya men. Gendered narratives and rumours are recurrent in both everyday and elite discourses—particularly those that present Buddhist women as vulnerable to Muslim Rohingya violence, rape, and forced conversion to Islam—because they create a perceived need for the urgent protection of Buddhist women from Rohingya men. The military and ultra-nationalist Buddhists have systematically used religious and cultural reasonings to justify their actions and the violence against the Rohingya, depicting Rohingya men as an existential threat to Buddhism and the state. This is also reflected in the passing of four laws (i.e. Population Control Law, the Conversion Law, the Buddhist Women’s Special Marriage Law, and the Monogamy Law) for the protection of race and religion (McCarthy & Menager, 2017). Rohingya men, therefore, have been portrayed as perpetrators of forced marriage and converting Buddhist women to Islam. They are ‘violent extremists’ and ‘terrorists’ practising ‘violent Islam’, wealthy and sexually deviant rapists. Thus, using a gendered linguistic narrative, Buddhist monks and the military emerged as protectors of their vulnerable women from the so-called Muslim rapist. Oppositely, Rohingya women have been portrayed as ugly and dangerously fertile breeders.

Long before this portrayal of the Rohingya, the term ‘kala’ (or Bengali Kala), a derogatory term used to undermine the Rohingya as ignorant and lower-level human beings, was established. This mechanism of ‘othering’ became more prevalent during the post-2012 violence, as evidenced through hate speech, particularly on social media. Fear of the ‘other’ has turned the Rohingya into a ‘radical other’. For Croft (2012, p. 87), ‘radical others’ is ‘the most threatening form of other …, one that threatens the very existence of the self. Here, the Other becomes increasingly understood as a dehumanized monster as the sense of threat grows’. Distrust and violence against the Rohingya were also fuelled by inter-communal relations and enforced segregation. The ‘threat image’ of the Rohingya has a historical origin; animosity and distrust of the Rohingya can be connected to the anti-Indian riots in the 1930s and Japanese invasion in 1942. While some Rohingya acknowledged that the relationship between Muslims and Buddhists in Rakhine was more amicable before the conflicts of 2012, it significantly deteriorated in the aftermath of those events. The proliferation of hate speech, the increased use of derogatory and abusive language directed at the Rohingya, and the growing sense of insecurity further exacerbated the situation for the Rohingya community.

In order to comprehend the violence against the Rohingya population, it is imperative to consider the structural, cultural, and symbolic forms of violence, as well as their gendered nature. Structurally, the denial of education, limited mobility, and pervasive poverty in Rakhine State are embedded in Myanmar’s governance policy. As agreed by the respondents, the opportunity for higher education above primary, and in some cases secondary, level was limited, more so if they were women. Many of these crises are rooted in the ‘development crisis’ in Rakhine State. A report from the Advisory Commission on Rakhine State states that the poverty rate in the state (Rakhine) stands at 78 percent, nearly twice the national average of 37.54 percent (Advisory commission on Rakhine State, 2017). This places it among the most economically disadvantaged regions in the country. In Rakhine State, all communities face economic hardship, a lack of adequate social services, and limited livelihood opportunities. Yet, women are more vulnerable than men in almost all aspects of life and livelihood, including uneven pay at work, lack of or difficult access to institutional loans (particularly for the unmarried and widows), and lack of rights to inheritance. Although the out-migration of women is higher in Rakhine, the migration of men poses an extra burden and workload on those women left behind in the community. Women’s political and civic participation in Rakhine is almost absent. Muslim women in Rakhine State have had a lower level of education and movement restrictions, which has led to fewer life choices for them (Advisory Commission on Rakhine State, 2017). This limitation of movement, particularly for Muslims, is also connected to the Muslim religious practices and patriarchal structure of the community. Imposing movement restrictions leads to the inability to attend education and other social services by the Rohingya. Ultimately, this has created an inability of the Rohingya to participate in civic and political life.

The violence perpetrated against the Rohingya by the military is distinctly gendered, involving both sexual and non-sexual acts of violence. For instance, the targeting of young girls for molestation by the military and security forces on their way to and from home was intended to instil fear and anxiety, instigate shame (beizzot gorá), and limit mobility for the female members of the Rohingya community. Rape as a form of sexual violence and the forced witnessing of rape have been used as a mechanism for ethnic cleansing; the acts served to perpetuate the social stigma associated with such acts, humiliate one’s dignity, intensify fear, and ultimately compel the Rohingya to flee their home country. Also, rape and other forms of sexual violence were directly chosen to undermine Rohingya women’s reproductive capacity and motherhood. Additional acts of violence, such as the forced witnessing of rape by members of the family, gang rape, and sexual violence against men, represent a tendency toward ‘militarised hypermasculinity’ among the perpetrators, i.e. Myanmar military. Moreover, sexual violence against the Rohingya was systematic and ‘itself an authorized policy, not a tolerated practice’ by the Myanmar military (Alam & Wood, 2022, p. 10). What is intriguing here are the links between the nationalist Buddhists, the state, and the military and their use of racialised and gendered discourses to legitimise violence against the Muslim Rohingya minority in Myanmar. This has serious implications for further marginalisation and violence against the Muslim minority. As this book has shown, the perpetrators used hate speech, fake news, and disinformation—through the use of popular social media outlets, such as Facebook, and other technological devices, such as CDs and DVDs—to securitise the Muslim Rohingya and legitimise violence against them. In everyday discourse and practices, including schools and social spaces, the use of Bengali Kala has become a prevalent symbol of producing boundaries between the Rohingya and the Burmese.

Nevertheless, the arrival of this precarious population to Bangladesh did not end their sufferings. Many of them expressed their frustration and anger over not being able to return to their motherland, as well as dissatisfaction over the living conditions in the camps. Insecurity, whether it comes from a lack of physical safety or from economic and social crises, has become part of everyday life for the Rohingya living in the camps. Refugee camps have become a regular source of drug dealing, crime, murders, and gang violence, creating a sense of terror and insecurity among the camp residents. On the other hand, the rising criminality in and around the camps, resource scarcity, and economic and social stress have led to growing dissatisfaction among the host community. This has resulted in increased anti-Rohingya sentiments among the host community, both at the level of the discourse and practice. Here, construction of the Rohingya as a ‘Monstrous Other’ is underway, which is the same as a ‘Radical Other’ (Croft, 2012). During my interviews with the locals in Ukhia and Cox’s Bazar, resentment was already widespread among Bangladeshis living near the camps. Some of these expressions were: ‘We cannot bear the burden of them anymore’, ‘They must go back home’, ‘They are destroying our environment’, ‘Why should care about them, they are not one of us’, ‘They are threatening our tourism industry’, ‘They took our jobs’, ‘They must go back to Myanmar’, ‘They are criminals’, etc. Bangladeshi media has presented the criminality, gang violence, and threats of violence from ARSA (Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army) and RSO (Rohingya Solidarity Organisation) as a threat to secular politics in Bangladesh in order to dehumanise the Rohingya. The initially positive narrative about the Rohingya soon shifted towards a negative one. As Crisp et al. (2023, p. para 3) claim,

the media focused on the economic strain the refugees placed on the host country. Reports of environmental destruction and rapid population growth among the refugees became widespread. Politicians labelled the Rohingya as a ‘security risk’, resulting in harsh policies such as internet restrictions, SIM card confiscations, barbed wire fencing, forced repatriation, and relocating refugees to the isolated Bhashan Char. Local media in Ukhiya and Teknaf have played a significant role in fuelling anti-Rohingya sentiments, presenting a one-dimensional image of the Rohingya as a threat and a burden. These media outlets have skillfully exploited Facebook’s algorithms to amplify their negative narratives, further contributing to the marginalisation of the Rohingya community.

The growing sense of insecurity among the host communities regarding the Rohingya in general, and men in particular, is also gendered. Rohingya men are often represented as a source of criminality and a threat to the security of the local host communities. On the contrary, Rohingya women are considered vulnerable and in need of help and protection. They also have been considered as more religious, which justifies mixed marriages between the Rohingya women and Bangladeshi men.

In the camps, a prevalent form of structural violence is the imposition of movement restrictions and the severe lack of viable livelihood opportunities. Consequently, this situation leads to a sense of powerlessness and discontent among Rohingya men, as they face considerable challenges in sustaining a means of living for their families. Like all patriarchal societies, the patriarchal structure of Rohingya society places men at the centre of protecting and maintaining the family. Failing to uphold such an obligation is equivalent to meaninglessness and powerlessness among the Rohingya. The resulting idleness among some men drives them to illicit activities, stemming from their hopelessness and disempowerment. This distress and a sense of powerlessness frequently culminate in instances of violence against their partners. Furthermore, this condition has encouraged some Rohingya men to engage in multiple marriages, seen as a form of ‘business’ and a potential income source within their community. Many young Rohingya girls have become victims of stalking and harassment by many such idle Rohingya youths in the camps. This, as a result, has produced insecurities among the Rohingya women and the imposition of restrictions on their movement, particularly during the night.

As highlighted by many of the individuals interviewed, the absence of livelihood opportunities within the camp and the lack of prospects for the repatriation of Rohingya to Myanmar have led many men to consider perilous sea journeys in a quest to reach other countries, such as India and Indonesia. Conversely, the circumstances for girls and women within the camps are even more precarious. Often men are more exposed to movement restrictions, leading to female Rohingya to search for jobs and go out of the camps. In many incidences, women were not searched on their way to work by security personnel at different checkpoints adjacent to the camps. However, this has also led women to a dialectical condition, as many women do not want to leave their houses due to the issue of seclusion (maintaining forda) and Islamic piety, but on the other hand, they have been forced to leave in search of a livelihood.

The financial hardship and lack of living space, as my respondents claim, has led to the prevalence of child marriages among the Rohingya. However, other structural issues such as traditional and Muslim gender norms, lack of education, and the accompanying social stigma associated with old-maidhood has led to child marriage and justification for the practice. Many Rohingya also think setting marriage early for their girls is a way to provide a shield against insecurity (physical, financial, and social) for the young girls. One of the consequences has been Rohingya women and girls becoming victims of violence, including intimate partner violence. However, both child marriage and intimate partner violence have been considered by many Rohingya women as the ‘natural order’ (symbolic violence). Intimate partner violence has been justified as the right of the man, who is responsible for the life and living of his women. As ARSA is active in the camps, both ordinary men and women have become victims of violence committed by ARSA. Yet, ARSA members forcibly marrying women in the camp has posed an extra burden and a source of violence against women.

The same woman who became a victim of direct violence in Myanmar continues to become a victim of structural violence in Bangladesh through patriarchal practices and a lack of access to justice. Those women and girls who fall victim to violence often struggle to obtain justice, due to the absence of a formal justice system within the camps, challenges in accessing the camp administration, and instances of corruption among some Majhis who serve as contact points for camp issues. As patriarchal and masculine protectionism prevails in the Rohingya social structure and is practiced in the camps, it is difficult for female victims of domestic violence to get justice. I concur with one of my respondents who expressed, ‘They [Majhi] are men and men will favour men [perpetrators of violence]’. Thus, many women do not expect justice and instead have adjusted to living and coping with ongoing violence. Also, prevailing gender norms and social stigma—for example, the practice of women maintain seclusion (forda) and avoiding public spaces—has also made women reluctant to receive services (i.e., safe space) offered by NGOs for the victims of domestic and intimate partner violence.

Another source of vulnerability, especially for women, is associated with health and personal hygiene. Gender-insensitive camp structures and services make it nearly impossible for them to use public toilets and bathing facilities during the day. Many women tend to hold their bladders for a long time, leading to health issues. The situation worsens when it comes to menstrual hygiene, due to lack of access to hygiene products, stigmas around menstruation (i.e., drying undergarments and hygiene kits in public), and congested living conditions. Infectious diseases, such as hepatitis A & B, have had significant impacts on women’s lives, including instances of divorce and abandonment by husbands. This attests to the lack of agency and power of Rohingya women vis-à-vis men. This also illustrates men’s dualistic character, as they prioritise Islamic piety (for multiple marriage) on the one hand, while on the other, they disregard the same when they divorce or abandon their sick wives.

Efforts to resolve the Rohingya crisis have been mostly unsuccessful, leaving few prospects six years after the Rohingyas’ forced migration to Bangladesh. They are still living in painstaking conditions in refugee camps. However, Rohingya youth, both male and female, have been participating in many different social and income-generating activities. For example, many young Rohingya women work as paid volunteers for national and international organisations working within the camps. Many of these women feel more empowered than they might have in Myanmar. Moreover, many Rohingya youth are very active on social media and organise different activities, including educating Rohingya children, transporting patients, organising cultural events, and making the everyday struggles of the Rohingya visible through different art media in the camps. Many of these youth also formed voluntary organisations in the camps, which I termed Refugee-led Organisations (RLOs). These RLOs, though predominantly led by the male Rohingya, have made some very important contributions to the community. Initiatives need to be taken by the authorities to strengthen these organisations based in the camps. Bangladeshi authorities, with help from international donors and camp-based organisations, should seriously explore the possibility of introducing economic and livelihood activities within the Rohingya refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar. Allowing the Rohingya to participate in income-generating activities without leaving the camp ‘will likely have many positive effects, and the positive aspects are anticipated to outweigh the negative ones’ (Salehin & Rahman, 2023, para 19).

In Bangladesh, strong partnerships between government, NGOs, RLOs and other stakeholders in the camps are necessary for ending gender-based violence and vulnerabilities. It is also important to invest more in re-designing gender-sensitive infrastructure (both physical and social) and programmes in the camps. Separate toilet and shower facilities for women only are urgently needed. The women-centric ‘Safe Space’ programme, which offers women a space to meet and learn about their rights, needs to be re-evaluated to make it more user friendly and to minimise the stigma associated with its use. Gender justice in the camp needs special attention. To provide gender justice, introducing a ‘mobile court’ in the camp to ensure women can access justice and appointing women government officials at the top camp management level (e.g., CiC) might help. For better camp governance, the Majhi system, which is exclusively male dominated, needs to be redesigned to ensure accountability, to reduce abuses of power, and to include women as Head Majhi and Majhi.