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Bangladeshi Women’s Experiences of Their Men’s Migration: Rethinking Power, Agency,

and Subordination
Author(s): Syeda Rozana Rashid
Source: Asian Survey , Vol. 53, No. 5 (September/October 2013), pp. 883-908
Published by: University of California Press
Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/as.2013.53.5.883

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SYEDA ROZANA RASHID

Bangladeshi Women’s Experiences of


Their Men’s Migration
Rethinking Power, Agency, and Subordination

ABSTRACT

This article examines Bangladeshi women’s experiences of their men’s migration.


It focuses on the lifestyles, household responsibilities, and levels of compliance with
or defiance against dominant gender ideologies concerning the everyday lives of left-
behind women in two migration-intensive villages in Bangladesh. By locating the
meanings and substance of women’s power and agency in the context of their living
arrangement in nuclear, joint, and natal families, I argue that the choices and prior-
ities of these women be interpreted beyond liberal feminist models of ‘‘empower-
ment’’ and ‘‘emancipation.’’
K E Y W O R D S : labor migration, left-behind women, power, agency, Bangladesh

INTRODUCTION

Gender-based analysis has informed work on migration in South Asia and


elsewhere in recent decades. In contrast with previous, familiar approaches
that focused on autonomy, empowerment, and emancipation, methods of
gender analysis have come to increasingly focus on distinctiveness, specificity
of settings, flux, and contradiction in men’s and women’s experiences of
migration. This article contributes to such analysis by looking at Bangladesh,
understanding Bangladeshi women’s experiences of their men’s migration
by examining the women’s everyday lives in the context of different living
arrangements in nuclear, joint, and natal families. It attempts to find various
forms of ‘‘power’’ and ‘‘agency’’ articulated by these women through con-
forming and resisting dominant gender norms and ideologies in contrast with

S YEDA R OZANA R ASHID is Assistant Professor in International Relations at the University of Dhaka,
Bangladesh. She wishes to thank Katy Gardner, Filippo Osella, and an anonymous reviewer for their
help in preparing the article. Email: <srr21rozana@gmail.com>.

Asian Survey, Vol. 53, Number 5, pp. 883–908. ISSN 0004-4687, electronic ISSN 1533-838X. © 2013 by
the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Please direct all requests for permission
to photocopy or reproduce article content through the University of California Press’s Rights and
Permissions website, http://www.ucpressjournals.com/reprintInfo.asp. DOI: 10.1525/AS.2013.53.5.883.

883

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884  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

the emphasis on the elimination of gender norms from liberal feminism and
development discourse.
Empirical and theoretical concerns generated by existing research in South
Asia provided the motivation for this article. For example, Gulati’s earlier
work on the left-behind women of Gulf migrants from Kerala State, India,
suggests that the migration of men helps women break down their isolation,
increases their mobility, and brings them into contact with a wider network
of institutions than before.1 Maharjan’s and her colleagues’ study on the left-
behind women in rural Nepal demonstrates how women have broadened and
deepened their involvement in rural society by taking household decisions,
managing household funds, and expanding resources as a result of male out-
migration, which could lead to either the empowerment or disempowerment
of women.2 Similar research by Datta and Mishra finds that women have
increased their workload, mobility, and participation in both private and
public spheres in rural Bihar State, India, as their husbands migrate into
towns or other villages for work.3 The authors, however, claim that these
changes did little to abolish patriarchy and caste as the principal institutions
that govern these women’s lives. Relatedly, Desai and Banerji argue that
household structures form the key mediating factor through which husbands’
absence affects women.4 Using data from large-scale surveys, the researchers
examine various dimensions of left-behind women’s autonomy in the
absence of their men. They conclude that women not residing in extended
families face both higher levels of responsibilities and greater autonomy,
while women who live in extended households do not experience these
increased demands or benefits.
Other studies have focused in particular on Bangladesh. Gardner’s work
on a transnational migrant community in the city of Sylhet claims that male
migration enhances women’s ability to exercise power in household and

1. Leela Gulati, In the Absence of Their Men: The Impact of Male Migration on Women (New
Delhi: Sage Publication, 1993).
2. Amina Maharjan, Siegfried Bauer, and Beatrice Knerr, ‘‘Do Rural Women Who Stay Behind
Benefit from Male Out-Migration? A Case Study in the Hills of Nepal,’’ Gender, Technology, and
Development 16:1 (March 2012), pp. 95–123.
3. Amrita Datta and Sunil K. Mishra, ‘‘Glimpses of Women’s Lives in Rural Bihar: Impact of
Male Migration,’’ Indian Journal of Labor Economics 54:3 (January 2011), pp. 457–77.
4. Sonalde Desai and Manjistha Banerji, ‘‘Negotiated Identities: Male Migration and Left-
Behind Wives in India,’’ Journal of Population Research 25:3 (October 2008), pp. 337–55.

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  885

economic matters.5 Focusing on the women whose husbands were in Britain


during the 1950s and 1960s, the author demonstrates that these women
subsequently helped create and sustain the networks of relationships between
neighbors and kin on which male migration from the region has historically
relied.6 Likewise, Akram and Karim emphasize ‘‘autonomy’’ and ‘‘empower-
ment’’ of left-behind wives of Bangladeshi migrant workers to the Gulf by
highlighting the increased economic security, living standards, and social
status of the women concerned. Yet, they depart from Gardner in showing
that men’s migration also leads to increased control over women by their own
or their husband’s parents.7 Based on in-depth interviews of 100 left-behind
wives in four districts of Bangladesh, the authors assert that a positive impact
from the husband’s migration was the improved ‘‘self-esteem’’ of the left-
behind wives: many of them, especially women in nuclear families, were left
to run the household and take decisions regarding land, children’s education,
debt repayment, and overall use of remittances.8
While the above studies are valuable in highlighting many pertinent issues
concerning the impact of men’s labor migration on women, such as increased
workload, responsibility, economic security, self-esteem, social status, etc.,
they also overlook key concerns. First, by looking at women’s experience
through the lens of ‘‘autonomy’’ and ‘‘empowerment,’’ they echo develop-
ment discourse, representing women in Bangladesh and in other developing
countries as ‘‘vulnerable’’ and ‘‘mute’’ and therefore in need of intervention.9
Second, through an emphasis on security and empowerment discourses, their
framework for analyzing women’s conditions obscures women’s agency and
preferred ways of life, as well as their negotiation with patriarchal norms and
ideologies while their husbands are away. The fact that women are more
visible in the public domain in the absence of men does not necessarily imply
that they are more empowered.10 Finally, although almost all the studies

5. Katy Gardner, Global Migrants, Local Lives: Travel and Transformation in Rural Bangladesh
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), pp. 98–127.
6. Ibid.
7. Shahzada M. Akram and Khandaker R. Karim, Security and Empowerment: The Case of Left
Behind Wives of Bangladeshi Migrant Workers (Dhaka: Bangladesh Freedom Foundation, 2004).
8. Ibid., p. 105.
9. For a wider discussion, see Sarah C. White, Arguing with the Crocodile: Gender and Class in
Bangladesh (London: Zed Books, 1992), p. 158.
10. See Jane Parpart, Shirin Rai, Kathleen Staudt, eds., Rethinking Empowerment: Gender and
Development in a Global/Local World, vol. 3 (London: Routledge, 2002).

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886  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

mentioned above show changes in intra-household power relations, they do


not offer an understanding of whether such changes are long-term or revert
back when male migrants return home.
In reality, the impacts and consequences of male migration on women are
too complex to be understood in terms of ‘‘empowerment’’ alone. Any
attempt to understand women’s experiences of their men’s migration must
consider the following questions: How do left-behind women perceive their
own roles following their men’s migration? To what extent does the spatial
separation of women from their men produce even greater opportunities for
the reinforcement of prevailing gender ideologies and norms? Or, conversely,
do separation and migration provide openings for women to question heg-
emonic notions of gender? In answering these questions, I will avoid reduc-
tive assertions concerning ‘‘empowerment.’’ Instead, I will focus on the
conceptions of self, agency, and power that underlie the everyday lives of
some of these left-behind women.

THE CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORK

My argument relies on a series of interrelated terms: subordination, power,


and agency. ‘‘Subordination’’ has long served as a conceptual basis of feminist
theory, claiming that women have a universal need for ‘‘liberty’’ from patri-
archy and subjugation. However, building on work since the 1970s that has
focused on human agency within structures of subordination, ‘‘Third World’’
feminists have argued that women’s interests and desires may vary across
classes, ethnicity, and racial locations; hence, women should not be consid-
ered as a coherent group requiring ‘‘empowerment.’’11 This variety challenges
the easy identification of subordination and provides the backdrop for my
argument.
In order to understand the limits of the framework of empowerment and
emancipation, we need to explore some of the notions of ‘‘power’’ that have
emerged over the decades. Scholars such as Lukes have rejected the notion
that power is simply control over institutions and resources, arguing instead
that power is articulated through controlling the agendas and thinking of

11. See, for example, Lila Abu-Lughod, Veiled Sentiments: Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999 [1986]); Chandra T. Mohanty, Feminism without
Borders: Decolonizing Theory, Practicing Solidarity (New Delhi: Zubaan, 2003).

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  887

others.12 Post-structuralists push the analysis further. Foucault, for example,


conceptualizes power beyond its capacity to dominate the subject. For him,
‘‘power’’ is the force to create new types of ideas, wishes, and relations as well
as discourses by applying strategies and techniques.13 Rejecting the notion
that ‘‘power’’ is something held by a person or groups, Foucault argues that it
pervades society; it is fluid, relational, and exists through the everyday inter-
actions of people, both individually and collectively, e.g., through institu-
tions.14 My analysis of Bangladeshi women’s exercise of ‘‘power’’ while their
husbands are away takes such notions as its point of departure.
With respect to women’s ‘‘agency,’’ my primary interlocutor is the anthro-
pologist Saba Mahmood. Arguing against scholars who see agency as synon-
ymous with resistance, Mahmood claims that

the meaning and sense of agency cannot be fixed in advance, but must emerge
through an analysis of the particular concepts that enable specific modes of
being, responsibility, and effectivity. Viewed in this way, what may appear to
be a case of deplorable passivity and docility from a progressivist point of view,
may actually be a form of agency—but one that can be understood only from
within the discourses and structures of subordination that create the condi-
tions of its enactment. In this sense, agentival capacity is entailed not only in
those acts that resist norms but also in the multiple ways in which one inhabits
norms.15

This conceptualization of ‘‘agency’’ is central to my argument. Using the two-


fold meaning of agency—as both the capacity to ‘‘resist’’ and ‘‘inhabit’’
norms—this article will analyze a sometimes submissive, sometimes
dynamic, feminist awareness of left-behind wives of migrants against the
hegemonic male cultural norms of Bangladeshi rural society. The literature
on women and gender in Bangladesh in general sees women’s status and
position within the family, economy, and society mostly in the context of

12. Steven Lukes, Power: A Radical View (London: Macmillan, 1974), pp. 23–24, cited in Stewart
R. Clegg, Frameworks of Power (London: Sage Publications, Ltd., 1989).
13. For a wider discussion on post-structural construction of ‘‘power,’’ see Michel Foucault, The
History of Sexuality, vol. 1 (London: Pelican, 1981); idem, ‘‘Truth and Power’’ in Power/Knowledge:
Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972–1977, ed. by Colin Gordon (Brighton: Harvester Press,
1980), pp. 122–28.
14. Foucault, The History of Sexuality.
15. Saba Mahmood, Politics of Piety: The Islamic Revival and the Feminist Subject (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 2011 [2005]), pp. 14–15. Italics in the original.

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888  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

patriarchy and dependence.16 Mahmood, however, would see that such sub-
ordinated status of women is often self-motivated and forms an important
part of women’s agency and feminist consciousness. Building on a post-
structural framework of power and agency, this article argues that there are,
in fact, different and contrasting realities of Bangladeshi women who aspire to
be a good wife, a good daughter-in-law, a successful head of the household,
and/or a working woman in the absence of their men. Moreover, such
realities challenge any easy evaluation on a spectrum of subordinated to
empowered.

NOTES ON METHODOLOGY

This article originated in my doctoral research,17 conducted during 2004–08


in two migration-intensive villages, Monpur and Jhumpur,18 in Comilla
District of Bangladesh. My position as an ethnographic researcher in these
villages whose work is premised on first-hand intense field interaction fol-
lowed by personal reflection was mediated by my own identity as a woman
belonging to the urban middle class of Bangladesh pursing higher education
in Europe. Moreover, I had a preexisting kin relationship with the villages
studied; I am related to an adjacent village of my study area through my own
marriage. Whereas my identity as a middle-class researcher based in Europe
was important in terms of helping to maintain a degree of distance from the
community, observing it more from the ‘‘outsider’s’’ point of view tradition-
ally experienced by ‘‘non-native’’ ethnographers, my Bangladeshi identity and
my kinship relationship (as a daughter-in-law) marked me as an ‘‘insider’’ and
gave me more access to and acceptance from the community than may be
experienced by ‘‘non-native’’ ethnographers. As Narayan writes of the native
ethnographer: ‘‘Instead of learning conceptual categories and then, through
fieldwork, finding the contexts in which to apply them, those of us who study
societies in which we have preexisting experience absorb analytic categories

16. See Jitka Kotalová, Belonging to Others: Cultural Construction of Womenhood in a Village in
Bangladesh (Dhaka: University Press, Ltd., 1996); Santi Rozario, Purity and Communal Boundaries:
Women and Social Change in a Bangladeshi Village (Dhaka: University Press, Ltd., 2001 [1992]).
17. Syeda Rozana Rashid, ‘‘Overseas Labour Migration from Rural Bangladesh: Livelihoods,
Capital, and Risk in Two Villages in Comilla’’ (unpublished D.Phil thesis, University of Sussex,
Brighton, 2008).
18. I have used pseudonyms for the villages and respondents in order to maintain confidentiality.

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  889

that rename and reframe what is already known.’’19 In fact, it is the act of
participant observation and the language of social analysis that helped me see
new meanings in the stories told by men and women in Monpur and Jhum-
pur. This article draws upon those stories.
Qualitative data from 110 selected migrant households of these two villages
was collected repeatedly over a period of one-and-a-half years using different
tools: basic household surveys, participatory observation, informal interviews,
and case studies. I also visited and informally interviewed selected households
during 2009–11 to track any significant changes within particular households
and the community at large. During this period, I observed relocation of some
left-behind women from parents’ to husband’s homes and vice versa because of
the migration and return of their husbands. As a woman myself, I was closer
with village women, of all ages, rather than with men. This was also partly
because women were available at home most of the time. Nevertheless, I was
able to document stories told by both men and women, and they contained
qualitative differences in terms of content and illustration. Women tended to
emphasize household issues, i.e., children’s welfare, household economy, rela-
tions with in-laws, etc., whereas men emphasized their migration experiences.
The remainder of this article is divided into three sections. The first sets
the scene by highlighting key issues of labor migration and the socio-
economic attributes of my study villages. By focusing on left-behind women
living with their own parents, their husband’s parents, and in their own house
as a nuclear household in the study villages, the second section presents the
field findings. The last section analyzes the findings in terms of power,
agency, and the subordination of women. While power, agency, and subor-
dination are important determinants to understand feminist consciousness
worldwide, I conclude by arguing that the meaning of these concepts is
always in flux and depends on different cultural contexts.

THE CONTEXT

Bangladesh is often described as a dual economy in terms of employment,


with a small industrial sector and a relatively dominant agricultural sector.20

19. Kirin Narayan, ‘‘How Native Is a ‘Native’ Anthropologist?’’ American Anthropologist 95:3
(September 1993), p. 678.
20. See Mohammad A. Hossain, Inflation, Economic Growth, and the Balance of Payments in
Bangladesh: A Macroeconomic Study (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1995), ch. 2.

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890  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

Still, while agriculture constitutes the principal livelihood of more than 70%
of its approximately 164 million people, its share in gross domestic product
(GDP) is only 15%.21 A declining agricultural sector, a large population, high
unemployment, and widespread poverty have made overseas labor migration
one of the most viable alternative livelihood options for many Bangladeshis.

Overseas Labor Migration from Bangladesh

According to the official estimate, more than 8.3 million Bangladeshis


migrated abroad with short-term labor contracts from 1976 to 2012.22 The
most common destinations include the United Arab Emirates, Oman,
Malaysia, Singapore, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar, Iraq, Libya, Bahrain,
Lebanon, and South Korea. Statistically, about 62% of Bangladeshi migrants
are employed in less-skilled jobs, while just under 38% hold various semi-
skilled and skilled jobs as manufacturing or garment workers, drivers,
machine operators, carpenters, tailors, masons, and so on. Professionals—
i.e., doctors, nurses, engineers, and teachers—comprise only 0.13% of labor
migrants.23 Compared to the Gulf and Southeast Asia, few Bangladeshis
migrate to Europe, North America, and Australia with work visas.
As far as my research is concerned, in July 2008 there were 110 migrant
households in the villages I studied: 43 in Monpur and 67 in Jhumpur, out of
315 households across two villages. I recorded 191 journeys made by 152 people
from these 110 households since the beginning of their migration history,
suggesting that some people have made repeated trips abroad. Of the 191
journeys, around 60% were made to the Gulf, 35% to Southeast Asia, and 5%
elsewhere (e.g., Europe, North America, Australia, and Africa). National
surveys show figures of 82%, 14%, and 4%, respectively.24
Labor migration in Bangladesh is mainly the preserve of men, who con-
stitute 95% of the country’s overseas labor force. Owing to low wages, the
short-term nature of most jobs, and receiving countries’ laws restricting
residence visas for dependents of low-earning migrant workers, men usually

21. Government of Bangladesh (GoB), Year Book 2011 (Dhaka: Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics,
2011).
22. Tasneem Siddiqui and Marina Sultana, Labor Migration from Bangladesh 2012: Achievements
and Challenges (Dhaka: Refugee and Migratory Movements Research Unit [RMMRU], 2013).
23. Ibid., p. 3.
24. Ibid.

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  891

leave their family behind. The context is thus one in which men migrate to
work abroad in unskilled and semi-skilled jobs and women stay back in the
villages to look after the households.

Jhumpur and Monpur: Two Bangladeshi Villages

The study villages neighbor one another and are located in the Daudkandi
Sub-district of the Comilla District in Chittagong Division, 52 kilometers
southeast of the national capital Dhaka. The nearest local market is half
a kilometer away, and the sub-district town is five kilometers from the
villages. Jhumpur has its own primary school, whereas Monpur children are
sent to schools in nearby villages. Older boys and girls travel to nearby and
distant villages to attend high schools, colleges, and madrasas (Islamic
schools). There is a girl’s madrasa in one of the adjacent villages. The nearest
health center in the area is located within half a kilometer in an adjacent
village. In case of serious illness or accident, people go to the government
health complex in the sub-district town.
The average household size in Monpur and Jhumpur is 5.6 people, and the
average expenditure in a six-member household is Tk 5,500 (US$70) per
month. The villagers are divided in occupational groups as diverse as culti-
vators, agricultural laborers, transport laborers, traders, shopkeepers, salaried
employees, and overseas labor migrants. Despite the diversity of their liveli-
hoods, almost all the families in the villages cultivate whatever land they own
or lease for subsistence during the cropping season. Due to their location on
the floodplains of the Meghna River, the total period of farming does not
exceed six to eight months in the villages. Of the 315 total households, 27%
were landless, and only 7% had more than four acres of land. Muslims
constitute nearly 96% of the population.
The concepts of kinship units referred to as gushti (patrilineage units) and
paribar (family) are fundamental to understanding social organization in rural
Bangladesh. A village is usually inhabited by several gushtis. Jhumpur and
Monpur are inhabited by 26 and 19 gushtis, respectively. Each gushti in the
villages includes several paribar, which is ideally made up of a man, his wife,
and their children. However, as I have seen in Monpur and Jhumpur, while
the wife and children are considered the immediate paribar of a man, in its
wider sense the paribar also includes his parents, parents’ parents, and
married or unmarried brothers or sisters who may or may not reside in the

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892  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

same household, same premises, or even in the same village. The family in
Bangladesh is patrilocal and patrilineal. In Monpur and Jhumpur, daughters
usually leave their parents’ home and join their husbands upon marriage,
whereas sons form their own households when they get married and become
parents.
Women’s lives in rural Bangladesh are characterized by the system of
purdah (seclusion). Unlike Islamic countries of the Middle East, purdah is
not legally binding for women in Bangladesh. As I observed in the study
villages, the spatial mobility of rural women has increased because of
improved road communication, transportation facilities, and the growth of
markets at the local level. Women are no longer expected to remain within
the boundaries of their home. However, society expects them to maintain
a certain degree of purdah in different ways; we will return to these shortly.
The cultivation and performance of the gendered role and relations of women
occurred against the above backdrop.

LEFT-BEHIND WOMEN IN THE STUDY VILLAGES

My ethnographic account suggests that three types of situation may emerge


when men migrate: (a) the wife may live in her husband’s village in a separate
household with her children and essentially run a nuclear household, (b) she
may stay with her in-laws in a joint family in the village or town, or (c) she
may shift to her natal home along with her children. In each of these three
cases, there are some women who have chosen to be involved in income-
generating activities. An elaboration of each of these scenarios, using the
words of some of the women I interviewed, will help us understand how
women make their worlds in the absence of their men.

A. Women as ‘‘Head of the Home’’

I get up as early as fazr wakth.25 After praying I clean the house. Then I go to
the pond to clean last night’s utensils to use them for preparing breakfast. By
9 o’clock all my children go to school except the little one (age two). They go
by themselves. They don’t return before 2 P . M . So, I get enough time to
complete my work such as cleaning the yard, bringing fuel sticks, preparing
muri (puffed rice), drying crops, and cooking lunch. . . .

25. Morning Prayer, offered at 5:00 A . M .

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  893

. . . Last year we produced and stored rice, potatoes, etc., to consume


around the year, but I also buy cooking oil, onion, chilli, and other spices
monthly. I don’t have a freezer to store fish, meat, or vegetables, so I need to
buy them almost daily. Often it’s hard to find someone to do the shopping.
Sometimes, I send my eldest son (age 12) to the bazar (market or groceries);
sometimes, I request passers-by (i.e., neighbors) to go for me. You know, it’s
not decent for women like us to go to the open market. . . .
All my four children come back by 2 o’clock and have their lunch. For me,
I cannot even manage to take a bath before 3 or 4 o’clock in the afternoon.
After lunch I take some rest—it’s the only time of the day that I spend for
myself. Sometimes neighboring women (who are also relatives) come to my
house to chat or to watch television. . . . In the evening, I oversee the children’s
study. You know, unless you push them, they don’t want to study. . . . I usually
do not leave any cooking for the night. . . .
We have two and a half kani (.75 acres) of land. When my husband was
here, we used to cultivate it ourselves. Cultivating your own land is only
profitable if you use your own labor. Otherwise, it is not cost effective at all.
After the migration of my husband, I tried to cultivate with the help of badli
(hired laborer), but it costs a lot of money to hire these people. Also it involves
a lot of hard work on my part to process the rice. So, for the last few years I
have been leasing the land out for sharecropping and get half of the crops. This
is not the case every year. Sometimes we lease out the land only in exchange for
money. . . .
My husband sends money every three months, and each month I usually
draw a basic minimum from my account to run the household. I have an
account at Janata Bank located at Dhaudkandi [a town], five kilometres from
the villages. He calls me whenever the money is transferred to my account, and
accordingly I go and withdraw cash. . . . In case I run out of money, I borrow it
from the next door relatives (in-laws) or neighbors. After all, you cannot let
your kids go hungry. As soon as the remittances come, I pay them back.26

This is how Marium (35)—the de facto head of a migrant nuclear house-


hold—described her life in the absence of her husband. Many left-behind
women like Marium find their responsibilities excessive and stressful. As
another woman, Parul (30), told me: ‘‘My parents would have never married
me to him (her husband) if they knew that he was going to bidesh (foreign
land). Before the marriage we were told that he had a small business in the

26. Author interview with Marium, Jhumpur village, Comilla, August 23, 2005.

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894  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

village.’’ A number of women heading migrant households informed me that


they will never marry their daughters to migrants because they know ‘‘how it
is to be a wife of a migrant.’’ In other words, ‘‘autonomy’’ and ‘‘freedom’’ are
not something that left-behind wives always preferred to ‘‘subordination’’
under patriarchy. These women consider themselves more ‘‘powerful’’ when
they stay with their husbands.
Most migrants visited home regularly and resolved decisions about leasing
out land, repayment of debts, and the education and marriage of children
during their stay. When husbands were unavailable or unable to provide
decisions from abroad, women sought the advice and help of their elder
brothers or other kin, especially in matters such as their daughter’s marriage
or migration of their sons. I came across very few women who had taken such
decisions and carried out such activities independently without the help of
their husbands, brothers, sons, or in-laws.

B. Left-behind Women in the Joint Family

During my fieldwork, around 50% of migrants’ wives in the study villages


were living with their husbands’ parents in joint families. One such wife
described her position in this way: ‘‘They [non-migrant men in the joint
family] bring bazar, and we—the daughters-in-law—cook for the family
members.’’ In fact, women in joint families spend more than half of their
day in the kitchen, managing food for a comparatively larger family than
wives who serve as heads of households. Their other responsibilities included
taking care of elderly parents-in-law and children and attending to guests,
especially sisters-in-law and their husbands. Due to the presence of men who
could provide labor in the field, joint families were more involved in subsis-
tence production than female-headed households. During the crop season,
left-behind women living with their in-laws performed the arduous task of
crop processing. Despite this, the workload of women in joint families was
less than that of the nuclear households because the former could share their
household chores with other members. While the women who served as
household heads had more autonomy to decide what work to do and when,
in a joint family the household chores were often distributed by the elder
women (such as a mother-in-law or big brother-in-law’s wife), leaving youn-
ger women (newly married wives of migrants) to perform their assigned roles.
It would be wrong to evaluate the above condition as ‘‘disempowering’’ for

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  895

the left-behind women. Power and agency of these women should be exam-
ined within the discourses and structures of subordination in rural Bangla-
deshi society, which expects these women to be ‘‘good daughters-in-law,’’
‘‘good mothers,’’ or ‘‘good wives.’’
There were at least 13 households in the study villages where a migrant’s
mother resided with his wife and children. In most cases, a widowed mother-
in-law accompanied a left-behind wife, especially when she was newly mar-
ried or left with small children. Public ideology considers young lone women
as vulnerable to sexual assault and therefore not to be left alone. The widowed
mother of the migrant was often asked to stay with the young left-behind wife
to avoid such risk as well as sexual scandal. The question of who should retain
control over household decisions—the daughter-in-law or the mother-in-
law—actually depended on a combination of factors such as the personality,
intelligence, and age of the women living in the household. In some cases, the
mother was too old to take care of household affairs; rather, her daughter-in-
law took care of her. Yet, the mother-in-law’s presence was very important for
the left-behind women in an otherwise nuclear household to avoid the social
stigma attached to lone women.
Some of the widowed mothers-in-law of left-behind women came to be
considered ‘‘strong mothers’’ after losing their husbands at a comparatively
young age. Most of these women did not remarry and took the challenge of
making a living while there was no source of permanent earnings. They raised
their children with inconsistent support from their parents and siblings, in-
laws, and well-off people in the neighborhood. The common experience of
hardship increased a son’s confidence in his mother about her skillful man-
agement of the household and proper utilization of remittances. In contrast
with widowed mothers of their husbands, wives were considered too inex-
perienced to take control of the household economy. One statement made by
Kalam (37)—a returnee from Kuwait—illustrates such considerations. He
said, ‘‘If I send, for example, 1 taka to my wife, she will spend 2 taka instead. If
I send 1 taka to my mum she will spend 50 paisa (0.5 taka) and save another
50 paisa for the future.’’ In order to avoid conflict, most young wives took it
for granted that the mother-in-law would be in charge of the household as
long as she wanted.
In contrast to female heads of the nuclear households after the migration of
the husband, women left behind in joint families usually did not get involved
in monetary matters such as leasing land, debt repayment, and the overall

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896  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

management of remittances; these were primarily done by the patriarchs


within the households. This is also the case where the widowed mother-in-
law was in charge of the family. While remittances were a crucial form of
insurance and income for households engaged in migration, women in joint/
mother-in-law-headed families often became dependent on their relatives for
livelihood and economic well-being.27
In many joint families, however, conflict arose between a migrant’s wife
and his parents/brothers regarding the receipt and control of remittances.
The prevailing culture in rural Bangladesh endorses the eldest capable man in
the family with the authority to receive and use remittances. Hence, the
tension started when the migrant sent remittances directly to his wife with
the aim of saving or buying land of his own. The wife in this case was often
stigmatized for exercising ‘‘power’’ over her husband, whereas the husband
faced criticism for not performing his moral obligation and responsibilities
toward his parents. In a situation where women’s good relations with in-laws
were pivotal, determining their social status, economic security, and relations
with husbands, various strategies were adopted by left-behind wives and their
migrant husbands to resolve such problems. Firoza (35) exemplified these
strategies:

My husband used to send money to me and I used to give it to my father-in-


law, setting some aside for my personal expenses. One day my father-in-law
told me that he feels awkward taking his son’s earnings from his daughter-in-
law. He also told his son over the phone that he felt dishonored by not
receiving money from his son directly. I took him to the bank the next day
to open an account and asked my husband to send money for me and the rest
of the household in two separate accounts.28

Migrants often sent money secretly for their wives living in joint families,
to their wives’ bank accounts or via friends and relatives, to both avoid
contention with the larger family and to meet their wives’ requirements. This
strategy was made possible by women’s increased interaction via telephone
with their husbands regarding household matters after migration. Private
mobile companies—e.g., Grameen Phone, Robi, Bangla-Link—have brought

27. See Alain Lefebvre, Kinship, Honour, and Money in Rural Pakistan: Subsistence Economy and
the Effects of International Migration (Richmond, U.K.: Curzon Press, 1999), pp. 257–58.
28. Author interview with Firoza, wife of a migrant from Monpur village, Comilla, February 17,
2006.

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  897

vast rural areas under their networks. As may be expected, left-behind women
in female-headed households claimed that monetary issues get priority in
phone conversations with their husbands.

C. Support from the Natal Family

I met a number of daughters in Jhumpur and Monpur who were staying in


their parents’ home while their husbands were employed abroad. Rebecca
(22), one such daughter in Monpur village, explained why she was living with
her parents in the absence of her husband:

There are many advantages to living in my own village. All villagers know
me—they are either my relatives or neighbors. So I can go anywhere, no one is
going to make any comment. . . . To tell the truth, I did not have the
opportunity to spend a long time in my in-laws’ village. I used to live in Dhaka
with my husband before his migration. Even after his migration, I stayed there
(with the mother-in-law). It is only after the death of my mother-in-law that
I decided to come here. Two big brothers of my husband are in their village. So
I could have gone there. But I felt a bit uneasy without my husband. You never
know who is thinking in which way. In our region (Comilla), people monitor
every move of the bou (daughter-in-law). So, I prefer to go there only with my
husband. Also, I had to consider the education of my daughter. . . . I explained
all this to him (her husband) and he asked me to move here (with my parents).
My daughter and I share this room with my dadi (paternal grand-
mother). . . . My father had a stroke recently, and he does not understand
anyone but me. It’s a great opportunity to look after my parents also. . . .
(However,) I don’t want to put pressure on my parents. I know their economic
situation. So, every month I give them some money which I receive from my
husband.29

In most cases, the death of the parents-in-law or the breakup of the joint
family forced wives to stay at the natal home. Again, some parents wanted
their daughters to stay with them, while some women lacked in-laws to live
with. Irrespective of the economic situation, natal families always welcomed
their married daughters. Unlike daughters-in-law, as daughters (married or
unmarried) women were not obliged to conform to social obligations toward
their family members or to take part in household chores. Rather, they

29. Author interview with Rebecca, Monpur village, September 20, 2005.

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898  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

received the full cooperation and sympathy of their parents and siblings in
terms of managing their children.
Over the past few decades, these two villages witnessed a large number of
in-village marriages, which are of huge importance as far as migration is
concerned. Such a migrant husband could then leave his wife and children
in the village that was at the same time his wife’s natal and in-law’s village. As
elsewhere, Jhumpur and Monpur daughters-in-law belonging to the same or
nearby villages maintained more frequent contact with the natal home than
those who were from distant villages. Wives in such circumstances also
shouldered the dual responsibility of taking care of both their elderly parents
and in-laws living in the same village. Their identity as ‘‘daughter’’ and
‘‘daughter-in-law’’ was often blurred as it involved a greater assertion of their
ties with the natal family alongside incorporation into their husbands’ kin
network. This had special significance for migrant households, where
mothers or wives of the migrants became heads of households and were in
need of continuous support from their natal families.30 Traditionally, village
women were expected to visit their parents only occasionally. Now, because
their husbands had migrated, many of these women as well as their husbands
preferred that they live with their natal family.

D. Working Wives of Migrants

I started teaching at the kindergarten only a year ago, but I used to teach
small children at home for many years. Last time when he (Hafiz, her hus-
band) migrated, we (the joint family) were in good shape. He had a good job
and used to send money regularly. My job was not so important at that time.
But the situation is different now. This time (his second migration), he is
unable to send us money regularly. After arriving in Saudi Arabia, he was
unemployed for eight months and managed to send only Tk 30,000
(US$375) by borrowing it from his friends there. Unfortunately, we incurred
a huge loan during the funding of his second migration. So, 80% of the
remittances were spent to pay off loans. How can we survive with the rest of
the money? Is it possible?
. . . My father-in-law runs a small cigarette stall in the local market. He can
bring in a maximum of Tk 100 (US$1.25) a day, which the household uses for

30. For further discussion see Sylvia Vatuk, Kinship and Urbanization: White Collar Migrants in
North India (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), p. 147.

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  899

daily groceries. But there are many other costs: my three-year-old daughter
needs milk; my mother-in-law is suffering from TB (tuberculosis)—she needs
treatment; I have a brother-in-law studying in Class IX—he must carry on his
studies; I have an unmarried sister-in-law who has her own needs.
I passed Higher Secondary Certificate (i.e., high school) and took admission
in a BA (bachelor’s) program at a local college, but this situation forced me to
drop the idea of studying. I was forced by the circumstances to take this job.
They pay me only Tk 900 (US$11.25) per month, which is nothing. Still
I continue because a number of my school students come for private tuition,
and I can earn some extra money. . . . 31

This is how Shapla (25)—who was both a daughter and daughter-in-law of


Jhumpur village—described her reasons for being involved in paid work. In
the villages, a middle-income woman working outside the home means that
her husband is unable to provide for the family. To most women in the study
villages, as elsewhere in Bangladesh, wage earning was secondary to the peace
and durability of conjugal life. Shapla’s case, nevertheless, shows that in
a situation where migrants’ earnings were not adequate to meet the needs
of the household, especially during the initial phases of migration when the
flow of remittances was not stable and regular, some left-behind women as
well as their husbands and in-laws found women’s earnings important, if not
necessary, for the household economy. In contrast to most left-behind
women who were dependent on their in-laws and natal family for their
livelihood, these working women were able to employ their education and
skills in earning their own livelihood—albeit facing criticism from the wider
society for breaking dominant gender ideologies that see men as principal
breadwinners and women as caring for the household.
Some women chose home-based earning as a way to be involved in mon-
etary activities without threatening the social standing of their husbands. For
example, Nazma (36) of Monpur village successfully ran a large dairy. She
started the dairy six years earlier with a microcredit loan from the Grameen
Bank. During my fieldwork, her net profit from the project was Tk 10,000
($125) minimum per month, which was enough to feed the household. The
project made her a de facto breadwinner while her husband was sending
irregular remittances from Malaysia, but she never claimed this status

31. Informal conversation with Shapla of Jhumpur village, Comilla, November 18, 2005. She was
also my research assistant.

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900  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

publicly. She had also become instrumental in financing the migration of


other members of her natal and in-law’s families.
In Monpur and Jhumpur, some jobs outside the home were recognized as
women’s work, such as teaching in the school and working as representatives
of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and insurance companies whose
targeted clients are mainly women. This work involved less interaction with
men and more with women and children. In some schools, authorities made
the burkha (outer garment worn by women to hide body and hair) compul-
sory for female teachers so as to attract more females to teaching jobs without
breaking social norms. Therefore, in spite of the salaries being lower than for
many other services, women from rural middle-class families in the villages
filled a variety of positions outside the home.

DISCUSSION AND ANALYSIS

The preceding section suggests that the everyday life of women in Monpur
and Jhumpur was full of conflicting features and related strategies. In what
follows, I shall analyze four different sets of features and strategies in detail.

Power and Agency of Women in Nuclear Families

Marium, as our representative case of a head of a migrant nuclear household,


demonstrates the limits of empowerment and emancipation that structure
many accounts of women’s agency. First, while a female-headed household is
usually defined as one where ‘‘[t]he female is the major provider and/or
protector, carrier and bearer and decision-maker in the household,’’32
female-headed migrant households offer yet another picture where women
are neither the provider nor the principal decision-makers within the house-
hold. Despite their physical absence, men are the primary providers of these
households, and they are constantly engaged in the process of household
decision-making through telephone conversations. I found that most, if not
all, of the women were instructed by their husbands about how and where to
spend the money. Moreover, there are wives who receive only a basic min-
imum of their husbands’ earnings to run the household. Thus, ‘‘husband is
away’’ does not necessarily imply full transfer of power from men’s to wo-
men’s hands in the household. My ethnographic accounts challenge the

32. See Ranjana Kumari, Women-Headed Households in Rural India (London: Sangam, 1989), p. 37.

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  901

‘‘empowerment’’ model that sees women heads of households as equally


powerful to men within patriarchy. As Marium’s case illustrates, ‘‘taking full
control of the household’’ or ‘‘making household decisions’’ often creates
greater liabilities and conditions of control by their men for left-behind
women in nuclear families than for wives living with their in-laws or parents.
Crucially, too, the power position of most wives changes with the return of
their migrant husbands. Husbands again take over the responsibility as heads
of households, even when they visit home for only a few months. Women,
while their household chores remain the same or even sometimes increase
with the main breadwinner being at home, find themselves free from stresses
because their husbands handle land and debt issues, daily groceries, etc.
Second, although liberal feminist ideas celebrate women’s capacity to take
decisions beyond household matters and to focus on greater interaction with
the outside world as important steps toward challenging patriarchal norms
obstructing women’s empowerment, the situation in my study villages was
much more complex. After listening to Marium and a number of other
women in migrant households, it appears that women do not necessarily
enjoy their decision-making ‘‘power,’’ ‘‘autonomy,’’ and ‘‘freedom’’ while their
husbands are away. In effect, power here is neither control over resources and
institutions nor is it something held by an individual person (a left-behind
wife) or groups (left-behind wives).33 Power instead means the ability to apply
strategic relations with a view to establish ideas, systems, or discourses that
permeate society.34 The social system in rural Bangladesh generally disap-
proves of women living alone—be they married or unmarried. The norm,
however, faced challenge in the study villages as more and more women were
left alone in nuclear families by their migrant husbands. Without breaking
the dominant gender ideologies that see women primarily as ‘‘caring for the
household,’’ the left-behind women in the nuclear family were able to estab-
lish that women might live alone and shoulder some of the responsibilities
that were originally assigned to their men. Thus, Marium’s power did not lie
so much in her ability to run the household in the absence of her husband as
in changing, to whatever degree, existing social ideas and norms regarding
women’s gender roles.

33. Lukes, ‘‘Power: A Radical View’’; Foucault, The History of Sexuality; and idem, ‘‘Truth and
Power.’’
34. Idem, The History of Sexuality.

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902  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

Power and Agency of Women in Joint Families

Left-behind women in their in-laws’ houses illustrate yet another meaning of


power and agency. In their study on left-behind wives of Bangladeshi migrant
workers, Akram and Karim demonstrate that—although husbands’ migra-
tion boosted the economic security, living standards, and social status of left-
behind women—migration may also have led to increased control by their
own or their husbands’ parents.35 In contrast to the portrayal of these women
as ‘‘vulnerable’’ to abuse by their in-laws for their greater dependence on the
joint family, it appeared to me that these women felt physically safe, eco-
nomically secure, and socially more cared for than women living indepen-
dently in the absence of their men.
The assumed desire for ‘‘autonomy’’ and ‘‘freedom’’ of these women has to
be considered within the cultural context of rural Bangladesh in which ‘‘a
good woman’’ and ‘‘a good daughter-in-law’’ is one who performs all her
duties and responsibilities to her husband and husband’s family. Marriage
brings significant changes in the life of a woman in the South Asian context.
Not only her residence but also her loyalty is expected to shift toward her
husband and in-laws. Earlier studies have emphasized ‘‘submission to in-
laws’’ as the most important quality of a good daughter-in-law.36 While
a woman in the nuclear household is judged more by her efficiency, intelli-
gence, and prudence in running the household frugally, which includes her
ability to save for the future, in joint families a ‘‘good daughter-in-law’’ is
measured by her ‘‘modesty,’’ ‘‘responsibility,’’ and ‘‘caring attitude’’ to the
members of her husband’s family. These idealized notions of femininity and
a ‘‘good woman’’ often create aspirations within women to adhere to partic-
ular roles that do not include ideas of ‘‘freedom’’ and ‘‘autonomy’’ in the sense
used by progressive feminists.37 Being a ‘‘good daughter-in-law’’ has a direct
bearing on a woman’s relationship with her husband, whose reputation and
status within the extended household is often influenced by the quality of his
wife’s interaction with his parents and other members of the household. In
return for her socio-economic security and the status offered by her migrant

35. Akram and Karim, Security and Empowerment, p. 105.


36. See Kotalová, Belonging to Others, pp. 19–20; Betsy Hartmann and James K. Boyce, A Quiet
Violence: View from a Bangladesh Village (Dhaka: University Press, Ltd., 1983), pp. 88–91.
37. See, for example, Sherry B. Ortner and Harriet Whitehead, eds., Sexual Meanings (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981).

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  903

husband, left-behind wives in joint families strive to secure their conjugal life
by trying to be a ‘‘good daughter-in-law.’’ Those who fail either become
separated from their in-laws and make their own household, or prefer to live
with their own parents.
Mahmood’s ethnographic accounts of the Egyptian women’s Islamic
movement in the mosque—a male-dominated sphere—invoke a whole host
of uneasy associations such as fundamentalism, the subjugation of women,
social conservatism, and cultural backwardness. There are clear similarities
between Egyptian women in Mahmood’s study and Bangladeshi left-behind
women residing in in-laws’ houses. In both instances, an explicit ‘‘feminist
agency’’ that resists norms is difficult to locate, and women’s actions seem to
corroborate with what appear to be ‘‘instruments of their own oppression.’’38
Also, liberal feminists would hardly find in either country the expressions and
moments of resistance that may suggest a challenge to male domination.
However, following Mahmood, I suggest that the power and agency of wives
in joint families are located within the culturally specific structure and in-
stitutions of Bangladeshi society that create desire among women to be
a ‘‘good daughter-in-law.’’ Furthermore, as Mahmood shows in the case of
Egyptian women’s piety practice, ‘‘inhabiting norms’’39 is an integral part of
women’s agency; Egyptian women are involved in Islamic movements that
traditionally have been considered detrimental to women’s ‘‘liberty.’’ Like-
wise, the Bangladeshi women I studied preferred to adhere to patriarchal
norms that, on the surface, caused their ‘‘subordination.’’ Nonetheless, it is
within their preferred ‘‘submissiveness’’ that both groups of women dealt
with patriarchy. Therefore, the ‘‘docility’’ of women in joint families should
not be equated with their need for ‘‘emancipation.’’
The exercise of power in joint families by migrants’ mothers also demands
an explanation. In the context of South Asia, women’s lives, their gendered
roles, and familial relations vary across their life course.40 Ideals concerning
womanhood change as a female ages and takes on different roles and relations
to others as a daughter, a wife, and a mother. According to Lamb, women at
various stages of their life-course may critique, resist, or offer divergent

38. Mahmood, Politics of Piety, pp. 5–8.


39. Ibid., p. 15.
40. See Sarah Lamb, White Saris and Sweet Mangoes: Aging, Gender, and Body in North India
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000); Katy Gardner, Age, Narrative, and Migration: The
Life Course and Life Histories amongst Bengali Elders (London: Berg, 2002).

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904  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

perspectives on more-dominant kinship and gender ideologies.41 While it is


true that aging gives most women an important and respectable position in
their families, it would be simplistic to claim that the older woman is a ‘‘pow-
erful matriarch.’’42 The cases of left-behind women in Monpur and Jhumpur
rather show that in many ways their ‘‘power’’ is mediated by dependence on
males within kinship networks. I have seen migrants’ widowed mothers seek
help from their natal home in terms of buying larger amounts of rice, in leasing
or buying of land, etc. Yet, their relations to their daughters-in-law are always as
hierarchical as that of the male heads (patriarchs) with their dependent families.

Power and Agency of Women in Natal Families

In contrast to wives living in nuclear and joint families, wives who stay with
their parents during their husbands’ migrations are making a rational and
strategic choice to maximize their well-being. The power and agency of this
segment of left-behind wives lie in their capacity to strategize this choice of
domicile. The socially constructed image of a ‘‘daughter of the village’’
(a woman who is born, brought up, or related to her village through her
parents) and her intimacy with neighbors from pre-marital life allow
a woman more freedom. In other words, women left behind by their migrant
husbands in their parents’ households enjoy greater autonomy and support
than those living with their in-laws. According to Grover, ‘‘[N]atal kin
support is a more effective bargaining tool than a woman’s earning capabil-
ities, as it guarantees rights of residence in an environment where it is socially
unacceptable to live alone.’’43 The lives of Rebecca (22) or Parul (30) above
would have been harder if they had no support from the natal families. For
left-behind wives of migrants, the shelter and support from their natal home
constitutes an important resource. The power and agency of these women
may be located in creating the conditions to accrue such support and in ‘‘the
articulation of conditions of relative freedom that enable women both to
formulate and to enact self-determined goals and interests.’’44

41. Lamb, White Saris and Sweet Mangoes, p. 198.


42. Ibid., p. 242.
43. Shalini Grover, ‘‘Poor Women’s Experiences of Marriage and Love in the City of New Delhi:
Everyday Stories of Sukh aur Dukh’’ (unpublished D.Phil. thesis, University of Sussex, Brighton,
2006), p. 63.
44. Mahmood, Politics of Piety, p. 10.

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  905

Power and Agency of Working Wives of Migrants

The cases of working wives of migrants indicate that women do not always
submit themselves to the authority exercised by men; it is both through
conformity and employing countervailing strategies that women cope. The
case of Shapla above, a working left-behind wife of Jhumpur village, reveals
the complex realities of women’s everyday life and how contradictory dis-
courses can co-exist. On the one hand, she employed countervailing strategies
by taking work as a schoolteacher while her society had yet to approve
women’s formal engagement in paid work. On the other hand, she con-
formed to the dominant ideologies in rural Bangladesh, which see women’s
primary role in taking care of the household. Shapla’s case illustrates how
working women in the villages tread a balance between their basic needs and
the social expectations of gender norms. Again through home-based entre-
preneurship, Nazma’s case above demonstrates the strategies that women
employ to be involved in income generation without breaking the ideologies
regarding women in rural Bangladesh. Such ideologies see women’s work and
interaction with unrelated men in public places as disgraceful for the family.
In identifying the dynamics influencing labor market choices made by
Bangladeshi garment workers in Dhaka and London, Kabeer notes that
Bangladeshi women in Dhaka negotiated purdah within their household and
community to legitimize outside work in garment factories. Contrarily, pur-
dah restricted London Bangladeshi women to primarily home-based, rather
than factory-based, garment work.45 Whereas changing social norms and
values identify Dhaka garment factories as a ‘‘female place,’’ the London
labor market is considered by the families as a restricted place for Bangladeshi
women in London as a result of their gender identity. Consequently, Kabeer
argues, it is the Dhaka women who have more power to choose their liveli-
hood than women living in ‘‘the West.’’
There are many parallels between the women in Kabeer’s study and the
left-behind working women in my study villages. In both cases, purdah
appears as an instrument to mediate other social norms. While liberal
feminism assumes that purdah should be regarded as a tool to create con-
ditions of ‘‘subordination’’ and ‘‘disempowerment’’ by men over women, in
effect, women in my study villages used it as a tool to express their agency.

45. See Naila Kabeer, The Power to Choose: Bangladeshi Women and Labor Market Decisions in
London and Dhaka (London: Verso, 2000).

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906  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

As I have discussed earlier in the context of left-behind wives in joint


families, resisting norms is only one way of articulating agency—the other way
is through ‘‘inhabiting’’ norms.46 Women often gain their agency by adhering
to norms that, from a liberal feminist perspective, may seem harmful to their
interests.
As the above discussion indicates, just as the implications of their men’s
migration for women were complex, so too was there no simple definition of
what makes a ‘‘good woman’’ or a fixed set of life aims or values. I, of course, do
not want to deny the felt domination of many by patriarchal ideology and
practices that discipline and control local women’s lives. Yet, it would be
misleading to interpret such felt domination only under the banner of ‘‘every-
day forms of resistance’’ in which many women are able to critique, reinterpret,
or resist such dominant ideologies through their songs, stories, gestures, and
everyday practices.47 Such ‘‘romanticization of resistance’’ often limits our
ability to interpret power and agency beyond liberal feminist assumptions.48
In the context of migration, the lives of women portrayed above some-
times destabilized, sometimes reinforced, and sometimes readjusted the dom-
inant gender ideologies and practices that otherwise controlled their lives. It is
evident that power in the lives of these women circulates throughout the
entire social body via persistent everyday practices of being an ‘‘efficient head
of the household,’’ a ‘‘good wife,’’ a ‘‘good daughter-in-law’’ and/or a ‘‘work-
ing woman who can tread a balance between household and workplace.’’49
While the power of the woman ‘‘head of household’’ lies in her ability to
manage the household in the absence of her husband and in changing exist-
ing social norms regarding women’s gender roles, the agency of the woman
living with her in-laws derives from her ability to stay with her husband’s
family, which often carries the reputation of being a ‘‘good’’ daughter-in-law.
This reputation is an important form of assets for women who need to accrue
support from their husbands as well as gain better status within the family.
Again, the intent and agency of working women is found in both resisting

46. Mahmood, Politics of Piety, p. 15.


47. See, for example, Gloria G. Raheja, and Ann G. Gold, Listen to the Heron’s Words: Re-
imagining Gender and Kinship in North India (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994).
48. Lila Abu-Lughod, ‘‘The Romance of Resistance: Tracing Transformations of Power through
Bedouin Women,’’ American Ethnologist 17:1 (February 1990), p. 42.
49. See Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (Harmondsworth, U.K.:
Penguin, 1979 [1975]).

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RASHID / BANGLADESHI WOMEN’S MEN’S MIGRATION  907

and inhabiting gender norms. In short, the above analysis suggests that
migration is instrumental in creating new power relations in which the very
practice and circumstances that secure a woman’s subordination are also the
means by which she becomes a conscious agent.50

CONCLUSION

This article has examined the lives of left-behind women of overseas migrant
workers in rural Bangladesh. In it, I have demonstrated that lifestyles, house-
hold responsibilities, and levels of compliance with or defiance of dominant
gender ideologies by these women vary according to their living arrangements
in the absence of their husbands in nuclear, joint, and natal families, and the
extent to which they can strategize within their particular circumstances.
While left-behind women heading nuclear households enjoyed greater access
to remittances and autonomy in household decision-making than the women
living with their in-laws or natal family, the former shouldered more respon-
sibility. Similarly, women living in their in-laws’ households earned social
status relating to womanly virtue, yet they had very little or no access to
remittances. The onus of being a ‘‘good daughter-in-law’’ was much higher
on women living with their in-laws than those who lived independently in
nuclear or natal homes. In other cases, the overseas labor migration of their
husbands attached wives to the natal family, which traditionally has been
considered an ‘‘other’’ place for women in rural Bangladesh as they transfer
their residence, as well as loyalty, to their husband’s home with marriage.
Throughout the article, I have sketched women’s lives beyond the liberal
feminist assumption of women’s universal need for freedom from relations of
domination, since this misrepresents the reality of women’s lives in many
settings. Fundamental to my attempt to engage the Bangladeshi case with the
broader discussion on gender and migration, and building on the work of
Mahmood, is the suggestion that ‘‘empowerment’’ and ‘‘emancipation’’ mod-
els are not always sufficient to explain the processes and conditions within
which women in ‘‘non-liberal’’ societies articulate their power and agency. By
placing Bangladeshi rural women’s choices and priorities in their social and
cultural context, I have shown that these women have an ideal conception of
their social lives that they try to live up to. They possess a specific approach to

50. Mahmood, Politics of Piety, p. 17.

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908  ASIAN SURVEY 53:5

life that may appear inappropriate with regard to liberal feminism, but it is of
huge social and cultural significance to the women themselves. In effect, by
conforming to culturally specific gender ideologies and expected behavior,
left-behind women in the migrant villages in Bangladesh try to leverage
different forms of ‘‘power’’ that are central to their existence.

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