How patriarchy's female foot soldiers can be liberated

For many brides in Bangladesh, it is seldom a surprise that in their new household, they are entitled to neither respect nor their own choices; rather, they are treated as someone who needs permission to move, smile, or even breathe. The cruellest critics of a new bride are often neither her husband nor any male relative, but the female family members—most often her mother-in-law. This reaction from other female family members is often met with silence, because by the time a young woman reaches marriageable age, she has already been habituated to women fighting women, something she very likely witnessed in the home where she was brought up. Now it is her turn to struggle, and eventually, unknowingly, become the very thing she once fought against. We are comfortable naming the patriarchy men impose on women, because it is visible. But we are far more reserved in admitting that women are frequently patriarchy’s loyal administrators. And until we are honest about that, our solutions will keep missing the target.

Turkish-born sociologist Deniz Kandiyoti coined the term “patriarchal bargain” nearly four decades ago to explain the “classic patriarchy” found across several parts of Asia, where women are not merely victims of male domination but which they also strategise within: trading submission in youth for a share of power in old age. A mother-in-law who polices her daughter-in-law’s every action or income is enforcing the very terms that once constrained her; she sees it as her reward for every subordination she endured when she was younger. In Kandiyoti’s framing, she is not an aberration in the patriarchal order, but a rational actor within it.

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This nuance is fundamental to understanding gender in Bangladesh. Research describes dowry as functioning to entrench patriarchal assumptions while facilitating capital growth for men and shows that mothers and mothers-in-law are often the ones negotiating dowry terms and policing a bride’s conduct. Studies suggest a woman’s ability to work outside the home depends not only on her husband’s consent but on her parents-in-law’s approval—a gatekeeping role disproportionately held by women. None of these, however, absolves men who remain the primary beneficiaries of the patriarchal system. It simply means the system cannot be dismantled by targeting men alone.

Understanding women’s role in subjugating women is the starting point, but stopping there flattens a layered reality and risks letting the actual architecture of power off the hook. Kimberlé Crenshaw’s term “intersectionality” reminds us that gender never operates alone; it is modified by class, caste, religion, age, geography, and disability. In Bangladesh, these modifiers decide who enforces patriarchal practice and who pays for it.

For example, younger, less-educated women from poorer households bear a disproportionate burden of intimate partner violence, per the latest survey on violence against women carried out jointly by the Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics and the United Nations Population Fund. Similarly, a garment factory worker navigating dormitory curfews set by an older female supervisor does not experience the same patriarchy as a young doctor from a well-to-do family. Neither does a Hindu widow fighting for inheritance face the same legal constraints as a Muslim woman negotiating mahr and maintenance. This directs attention to “contextual agency”—the interplay between individual choice and structural constraint—rather than a single story of “women versus women.”

An intersectional lens also shows how the state sustains these dynamics. Bangladesh’s constitution guarantees gender equality while recognising religion-based personal laws on inheritance, marriage, and divorce. The Women Affairs Reform Commission formed by the interim government had urged this contradiction to be resolved through a single, uniform family code—because when the law equivocates, customs (transmitted generation after generation, from mother to daughter; mother-in-law to daughter-in-law) fill the vacuum.

Therefore, firstly, women’s old age must be materially de-risked. Much of older women’s harshness towards younger ones is insurance-seeking behaviour born of weak social protection. A mother-in-law who insists a working daughter-in-law hand over her earnings, or quit her job, is insuring against her son’s income and attention drifting to a household she no longer controls. Pension schemes, elderly care policy, and women-friendly inheritance laws would remove that tendency, since they would no longer have to depend on a son or daughter-in-law’s goodwill.

Second, existing laws must be enforced. Dowry has been formally prohibited for decades, yet enforcement remains so weak that dowry-related violence continues virtually unchecked. Promises of reform without action are but cheap theatrics.

Third, interventions must be targeted by axis, not by gender alone. A blanket “women’s empowerment” campaign fails without disaggregating data by age, income, religion, and class—the intersectional data missing from policy design.

Lastly, older women must be engaged as allies, not opponents. Grandmothers and mothers-in-law who once had no exit from these bargains should become persuasive agents of change and be given genuine incentives and platforms.

Patriarchy does not survive because men alone defend it. It has also sustained through its female foot soldiers because, for a long time, it was often their only bargain on offer. It is now Bangladesh’s task to put a better one on the table for the mothers and mothers-in-law who long ago forgot what it means to be served as equals.

Fariya Rahman is a public health researcher and climate advocate.

Views expressed in this article are the author's own. 

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