/ Piercing the invisibility of violence against Adibashi women

Only two months ago, Abul Hasnat Muhammad Sohail Rana, a teacher of Khagrachhari Government Technical School and College allegedly raped a seventh-grade female Tripura student. According to news reports, doctors found evidence of sexual assault. Protesters, mostly from the Indigenous communities, attacked him, and after he was taken to the hospital, he was declared dead. Immediately after his death, tension broke out between groups of Bangalees and Indigenous people. A hospital was vandalised, temples looted and houses and shops belonging to Indigenous communities in multiple areas were torched.
Human Rights Support Society reports that in September, at least 28 people were killed in mob beatings in Bangladesh. However, in no other part of the country has such violence escalated into community-targeted aggression, underlining systemic issues unique to Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT).
Rana previously went to jail on charges of attempt to rape of a student in Kushtia, following which, he was transferred to Khagrachhari. The decision to transfer him to CHT instead of taking firm disciplinary action raises serious questions about whether CHT is being treated as a “dumping ground” for individuals with tarnished records, further neglecting the safety of Indigenous or Adibashi women.
Violence against Indigenous women is not new in the playbook of colonial oppression and systematic marginalisation. The recent violence towards Adibashis in Khagrachhari and Rangamati in September and October, resulting in the deaths of four Indigenous people and widespread attacks on Indigenous properties, reveals a different dimension to gender-based violence against Adibashi women.
Amid indiscriminate violent attacks on us, we were called “Bicchinotabadi” or separatists. Instead of solidarity, we received the demands to answer why we were anti-state. We somehow managed to get through the days, but the nights were filled with fear. Social media was filled with provocative statements inciting hatred against us, and there was no hesitation in publicly demanding that Adibashis had to be controlled, lest they should form a separate state. A fellow Adibashi woman shared that her mother had asked her to wear salwar kamiz to avoid public attention. If we stop speaking our language, wearing our clothes, will we be able to hide our Indigeneity?
As women, we are held as the visible expressions of culture. Our features are reduced to “exotic,” our skin “too bare.” Our cultural traditions are exoticised to create a stark difference against modern “Bangalee” culture. As life-givers, we are the backbone of our communities. Under the “separatist” label, we are painted as the “enemy” women. Our wombs are targeted to disrupt the transmission of Indigenous ways of life. The violence is not just physical, it is deeply political and cultural.
On January 22, 2018, two Marma sisters were allegedly sexually assaulted by security forces in Orachhari village of Rangamati. IWGIA reports that in 2020, 25 violent incidents against Adibashi girls aged between 11 and 30 years took place in the CHT. Physical assault, rape and attempted rape posed the biggest threat to their safety. From January to June 2021, 16 incidents of rape were confirmed by a report published by Bangladesh Indigenous Women Network. In 2022, Kapaeeng Foundation documented at least 19 rape cases of Indigenous women and girls, including seven gang rapes.
The figures do not consider the many cases that go unreported. The 2016 Amnesty International report on sexual and gender-based violence in the CHT observed that 95 percent of victims feared stigmatisation and 60 percent chose not to pursue legal actions. By comfortably throwing Adibashi women under the “secessionist” label, perpetrators enjoy impunity and law enforcement agencies get an excuse to look away from the violation of our dignity. Dominant groups dismiss our suffering based on the conviction that it is self-inflicted and inevitable.
Such narratives depoliticise our activism. Our experiences are deeply entrenched in oppression, erasure and dehumanisation, yet our screams remain inaudible to dominant groups. Is it because recognising our struggles requires recognising their own privilege and complicity in systemic oppression?
In retrospection, a joint statement by IWGIA and Chittagong Hill Tracts Commission mentioned that Bangalee settlers had been attempting to incite unrest in the CHT ever since the Chief Adviser of the interim government referred to Indigenous Peoples of CHT as “Indigenous” in a speech on August 25, 2024. Certain groups protested this acknowledgment, claiming Bangalees were the country’s true Indigenous population.
The Indigenous peoples have inhabited the region for centuries, long before the formation of modern Bangladesh. Historical accounts from Mughal and British administrators reference our distinct existence. During British rule, the region was classified as an “Excluded Area,” recognising the unique governance and cultural practices of its Indigenous communities. This status was reinforced by the Chittagong Hill Tracts Regulation of 1900, which acknowledged the Indigenous population’s autonomy.
Bangladesh has not ratified the International Labour Organization’s (ILO) Convention No 169 that aims to protect the rights of Indigenous Peoples. Without the recognition of our Indigenous status, our customary land rights are not protected. To suppress land claims, perpetrators use terror and rape against women. On the other hand, Article 22 of the United Nations Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples mentions, “States shall take measures, in conjunction with Indigenous Peoples, to ensure that Indigenous women and children enjoy the full protection and guarantees against all forms of violence and discrimination.” How do we seek justice when our vulnerability is not recognised?
How does asking for Indigenous recognition translate to becoming a secessionist? If anything, we are seeking respectful coexistence and equitable relations with the state. Scandinavian countries, Bolivia, Mexico, North America and many other nations recognise their Indigenous Peoples. Were those countries divided?
Today the Chittagong Hill Tracts has the highest rate of poverty and illiteracy in Bangladesh, reported by Asian Development Bank. Despite having immense biological, cultural, and environmental resources, why is CHT lagging behind in almost all development indicators? Is it the Indigenous communities who want separation or the exclusionary policies pushing us to the margins?
Every year on May 5, Canada and the United States observe the National Awareness Day for Missing or Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. Red dresses are put up in public spaces, symbolising the lives of Indigenous women lost to violence. There is no red pinon or thami hanging for us.
Experiencing gender-based violence as an Adibashi woman is like being hit by a car. You are only allowed to get medical attention if you can prove that you are not anti-state. How long can you wait till you bleed out?
Myat Moe Khaing is a marketing strategist at a multinational company, who takes an interest in Indigenous and gender politics.

Views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
Follow The Daily Star Opinion on Facebook for the latest opinions, commentaries and analyses by experts and professionals. To contribute your article or letter to The Daily Star Opinion, see our guidelines for submission.