Professional Documents
Culture Documents
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
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ABSTRACT
INTRODUCTION
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
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.
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).
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).
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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. . . .
26. Author interview with Marium, Jhumpur village, Comilla, August 23, 2005.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
31. Informal conversation with Shapla of Jhumpur village, Comilla, November 18, 2005. She was
also my research assistant.
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.
32. See Ranjana Kumari, Women-Headed Households in Rural India (London: Sangam, 1989), p. 37.
33. Lukes, ‘‘Power: A Radical View’’; Foucault, The History of Sexuality; and idem, ‘‘Truth and
Power.’’
34. Idem, The History of Sexuality.
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
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
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).
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
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.