By: RO Maung Shwe
Cox’s Bazar, May 27, 2025 —
The tradition of dowry, once viewed by some as a cultural gesture of goodwill, has become a quiet crisis, especially within vulnerable communities like the Rohingya. Beneath the surface of celebration, it carries a hidden weight of debt, shame, and emotional pain—borne largely by daughters and their fathers.
In many societies, dowry refers to the transfer of money, jewelry, or household items from the bride’s family to the groom. Though rarely spoken aloud, these expectations have become deeply embedded. A family’s honor—and a girl’s marriage prospects—are often unfairly linked to what she brings with her.
For middle- and low-income families, these unspoken demands can mean the loss of land, unbearable debt, and broken dreams. Fathers sell their belongings or borrow from relatives, while mothers carry the shame of being unable to “meet expectations.” Daughters, in turn, are made to feel their worth is measured not in love or character, but in gold, garments, and food.
This practice—disguised as tradition—is in truth a form of exploitation. It not only destroys emotional bonds within families but, in extreme cases, has led to abuse, abandonment, and violence. In some corners of the world, it has even cost lives.
Even in Refuge, the Burden Persists
Within the Rohingya refugee camps in Bangladesh, where families survive on humanitarian aid, the dowry custom continues to press down heavily—often without protest. Elaborate food arrangements from the bride’s family to the groom’s, expectations of gold, clothes, and mobile phones are still common. In a space where people have lost homes, income, and freedom, this practice makes the prospect of marriage a heavier burden than ever.
“In our camp, having a daughter is not just a blessing. It’s a worry that keeps us awake at night,” says one father quietly. “Even fried chicken or sticky rice—simple foods—become symbols of shame if not offered properly.”
For many, these food items are no longer tokens of joy, but proof of dignity under social pressure. Failure to provide them can lead to insult, rejection, or humiliation by in-laws and neighbors.
One Father’s Struggle
Mohammed Shafi, a Rohingya father of four daughters, knows this reality too well. Originally from Taung Bazar in Buthidaung, he was once a self-sufficient farmer in Myanmar.
“Back home,” he recalls, “I cultivated land, raised cattle, grew rice. I could support my family. But now, in the camp, I rely on monthly rations and a data card. I have nothing left.”
His two daughters are now of marriageable age. Suitors have come—but with expectations attached.
“Some say, ‘We don’t ask for much—just two tolas of gold.’ But even that costs over four lakh taka, which is impossible for us now.”
The expectations include:
- Gold (approx. two tolas)
- Smartphone worth over 50,000 BDT
- Clothing sets worth 40,000 BDT
- Furniture and kitchen items
- A wedding menu featuring fried chicken, meat curry, sticky rice, goat’s head, and food for 200+ guests
“In total,” Shafi says with a sigh, “I’d need over eight lakh taka. Since I can’t manage that, my only option is to marry her off abroad—in Malaysia, where dowry isn’t demanded.”
He adds, “If we can’t provide everything, our daughters are treated poorly in their in-laws’ homes.”
Another Story, Another Sacrifice
Abu Bokkor, another refugee father, managed to marry off his daughter recently—by borrowing over five lakh taka. Days later, when his daughter returned for her traditional post-wedding visit, her in-laws sent food with her—a sign of respect. But according to custom, he had to send back twice as much.
“If I didn’t, she’d be shamed. So I did it—for her smile,” he says. “But I was breaking inside.”
He adds, “We carry this burden silently. All we want is our daughters to be happy. But what is the cost of that smile?”
A Practice Disconnected from Faith
One Rohingya community member reflected:
“In Islam, dowry is clearly forbidden. But in our culture, the meaning has been twisted. What should be a celebration of unity has become a transaction. Greed and pressure have taken over.”
He continues, “It’s time to question these so-called traditions. Many young women have died trying to escape them—drowning in the Naf River, hoping that marriage abroad will mean dignity without a price tag.”
“Let us build relationships based on love and respect—not on burdens that break families.”
