Rethinking GBV in Rohingya Camps: From Silence to Systems

Luthfunnahar Shancyi*

GBV as an everyday structural reality

In the Rohingya camps, gender-based violence (GBV) is not an isolated or singular problem. It is deeply embedded in everyday life. It is not just an event that happens occasionally, but a continuous process shaped by family relations, social norms, cultural expectations, and unequal power structures. For women, girls, and in some cases boys, it remains a silent but persistent risk that shapes their daily lives.

The Rohingya crisis itself is not only a story of displacement. It is rooted in a long history of marginalization, violence, and systemic exclusion. Statelessness in Myanmar, along with limited access to education, healthcare, and social protection, has weakened the foundations of Rohingya life over generations. These conditions do not disappear with displacement. In the camps of Cox’s Bazar, they continue to influence everyday realities, placing pressure on family and social relationships and, in many cases, increasing the risk of violence.

Life in confinement and the intensification of power imbalance

The Rohingya camps in Cox’s Bazar, established in Bangladesh since 2017, are among the largest refugee settlements in the world. Life in these camps is marked by confinement, insecurity, and prolonged uncertainty. Movement is restricted, opportunities are limited, and futures remain unclear.

Within such conditions, existing inequalities are intensified. Power imbalances within households and communities become more visible and more rigid. Women and girls are often the most affected, as control over their mobility, behavior, and life choices becomes stricter under conditions of uncertainty and stress.

What the data reveals about violence inside the home

Data from the Gender-Based Violence Information Management System (GBVIMS) for the last quarter of 2025 provides important insight into patterns of violence in the camps.

Nearly 88 percent of reported incidents occur within the survivor’s own home. This highlights a critical reality: for many women and girls, the home is not a place of safety, but a primary site of risk.

Around 69 percent of reported incidents are perpetrated by intimate partners. This indicates that violence is closely tied to relationships of trust, dependence, and everyday interaction. It is not only external threats that shape insecurity, but also internal family dynamics.

Approximately 50 percent of incidents involve physical violence, including beatings, injuries, and other forms of direct harm. At the same time, there is a significant prevalence of emotional and psychological abuse, which often remains less visible but has long-term impacts on mental health and well-being.

Another critical finding is that around 59 percent of survivors refuse to seek legal support. This reluctance is shaped by multiple factors, including fear, social stigma, insecurity, and the complexity of legal processes. Many survivors do not feel that seeking formal justice will protect them.

Taken together, these patterns show that GBV in the camps is not only about individual acts of violence. It is also about control. Violence functions as a mechanism through which power is maintained within households and relationships.

Control, restriction, and the normalization of violence

Control in the camps often goes beyond physical violence. Women and girls frequently face restrictions on movement, social interaction, education, and access to healthcare. These restrictions are not always recognized as violence, but they shape the boundaries of everyday life.

A notable example is the withdrawal of adolescent girls from educational and community programs after the onset of menstruation. Many girls who previously participated in safe spaces such as ShantiKhana or in learning activities gradually stop attending. Cultural expectations and social norms increasingly confine them to the home.

Over time, these restrictions become normalized. What begins as control becomes accepted as “appropriate behavior.” This normalization makes it more difficult to identify and challenge violence.

GBV, therefore, must be understood in a broader sense. Early marriage, restrictions on mobility, denial of education, and exclusion from family decision-making are all part of the same structure of control. These practices shape the life trajectories of girls from an early age, limiting their choices and opportunities.

Silence, stigma, and the invisibility of harm

In field experience, one of the most striking realities is the difficulty survivors face in sharing their experiences. Silence is shaped by shame, fear, and social stigma. Many survivors fear blame, rejection, or further harm if they speak out.

In many cases, families discourage disclosure, prioritizing social reputation or perceived stability over the safety of the survivor. As a result, violence continues but remains hidden.

This silence is not only individual. It reflects a broader community condition in which violence is present but rarely openly discussed. This collective silence allows harmful practices to persist across generations.

A teenage girl once shared, “I didn’t know that physical abuse by a husband also falls under ‘GBV’. I understand it now, but if my family had known about these things earlier, I might not have gotten married at such a young age.”

Such experiences are not isolated. Many girls grow up without awareness of their rights, safety, or dignity. Violence becomes normalized to the point where it is no longer recognized as violence. This makes change more complex and more difficult.

Programs, awareness, and the limits of short-term change

Various GBV prevention initiatives are currently being implemented in the camps by humanitarian organizations. Programs such as Engaging Men through Accountable Practice (EMAP), Men and Boys Engagement initiatives, SASA! Together, Girl Shine, and women’s empowerment activities aim to create awareness and encourage shifts in behavior.

In some cases, these efforts have contributed to positive changes. Some men have begun to question violence, and in certain situations, young boys have taken active roles in preventing child marriage within their communities. These examples show that change is possible.

However, these changes are often limited in scope and difficult to sustain. Many interventions are structured around short-term project cycles. Once the curriculum-based sessions end, follow-up engagement is often minimal due to staff shortages, limited funding, and competing priorities.

As a result, the awareness created during program activities gradually fades. Participants may disengage, and earlier progress may not translate into long-term behavioral change. This raises an important question: are these initiatives transforming social norms, or are they only creating temporary awareness?

Funding constraints and the gap between services and prevention

A major challenge affecting GBV work in the camps is the ongoing funding crisis. Prevention activities are often the first to be reduced or discontinued when resources are limited. This disrupts continuity and weakens the trust and relationships built within communities.

While case management services continue to support survivors, providing services alone is not sufficient to prevent violence. Supporting survivors addresses immediate needs, but the underlying causes of violence remain largely unchanged.

This reflects a broader issue within the humanitarian response. There is often a stronger focus on addressing visible outcomes than on transforming the structural conditions that produce violence. In some cases, program design does not fully reflect the lived realities of the community. Without meaningful community engagement, interventions risk losing relevance.

Addressing root causes through community-centered approaches

The root causes of GBV are closely linked to social norms, power hierarchies, and economic dependency. Without addressing these underlying factors, violence is likely to continue.

In this context, the role of influential community actors is critical. Young men, adult men, religious leaders, Majhi, and elder family members play central roles in shaping norms and behaviors. Yet many lack a clear understanding of GBV and its impacts. Without their involvement, prevention efforts remain incomplete.

At the same time, community-led initiatives offer a path toward more sustainable change. When change emerges from within the community, it is more likely to be accepted and maintained over time. Strengthening women’s groups, youth networks, and local leadership can contribute to building an environment that resists violence.

An effective response requires a multi-sectoral approach that connects education, protection, mental health, and livelihoods. Creating safe spaces, supporting life skills development, and building leadership among adolescents are particularly important. At the same time, services must be accessible, confidential, and survivor-centered. A negative experience in seeking support can discourage survivors from reaching out again.

Voices of resilience and the urgency of long-term change

Despite these challenges, the voices of young girls reflect both vulnerability and resilience.

“Afu, onne aijja aissho de ne? Toare deki bedsi koshi oiyii.”
“Apu, did you come today? We feel very happy when we see you.”

“Meherbani gori abar sujog paile ararloy abar deha goitto aishsso.”
“If possible, please come again to see us.”

Even within difficult conditions, they find moments of joy and connection. They carry aspirations and hopes for a different future.

GBV in the Rohingya camps is not only a programmatic concern. It is a question of dignity, safety, and justice. Addressing it requires moving beyond short-term interventions toward sustained, coordinated, and community-driven approaches. Behind every silent experience is an ongoing human struggle, one that cannot be overlooked.

*Luthfunnahar Shancyi is a humanitarian professional with experience in gender-based violence (GBV) prevention and community engagement in the Rohingya response in Bangladesh.