By: Nadia Islam
In times of war, the reality of women and their bodies, the existence of their genitalia and their very essence as ‘tools of war’ becomes undeniably clear.
This unforgiving tenacious inexorable reality has echoed throughout history in chambers, reflecting the grim fate faced by countless women during the darkest chapters of human conflict. And amidst the unimaginable atrocities endured by Rohingya women, it becomes clear that sexual violence is not merely a consequence of genocide; it is a deliberate, brutal weapon.
According to a 2025 report by the Burma Task Force, a coalition of 38 U.S. and Canadian Muslim organizations, incidents of sexual violence and other abuses against Rohingya women are widespread, with the Arakan Army specifically targeting girls for sexual abuse.
Reports from interviews taken in the world’s largest refugee camps in Bangladesh reveal harrowing accounts, such as one woman who described attackers kicking her to the ground, sexually assaulting her, and slaughtering her family members in front of her eyes [1].
This echoes the brutality perpetrated by the Myanmar military during the 2017 “clearance operations,” where sexual violence was used as a means to inflict severe social and reproductive harm on the Rohingya community.
Feminist scholars like Susan Brownmiller have long explored how rape and sexual violence are wielded as instruments of power and domination in conflict. Brownmiller, in her seminal work “Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape,” argues that sexual violence is a calculated tool of terror, a sentiment echoed by voices like Catharine MacKinnon, who highlights the systemic nature of sexual violence in war as part of a broader patriarchal agenda.
Indeed, we can see this agenda everywhere around us. We can see that the body of a woman is never her own, her body is the breeding ground of the feudal labour force, the canvas for finance-capitalist pornographic artists, the embodiment of virtue and morality in organised religions, the battlefield for warlords, it is the property of her god, her father, her husband, her children, her country, her society, the entire economic structure—but never her own.
So it is understandable why rape persists in its primal, animalistic form in societies where women are not valued as human beings but merely as resources and tools—therefore, in the throes of a genocide, women become enemy property, embodying the disdain and hate one race harbours against another.
As seen in Auschwitz during WWII, the Nazi regime didn’t project any kind of personal resentment onto their victims—they viewed them as subhuman, as filthy as cockroaches or maggots. We can see the same degree of mental separation and major brownie points for dehumanization when it comes to the Rohingya, fuelling acts of ethnic cleansing where women are ensnared in the horrors of genocide. We need to understand that rape or sexual violence has nothing to do with the sexual act most of the time—the need for sex rarely drives rape; it is a symptom of a mindset of a diseased society which reflects power dynamics and control, mostly rooted in systemic inequalities and cultural norms that perpetuate aggression and dehumanization.
The Rohingya conflict with Myanmar traces back to colonial times when shifting borders and ethnic tensions laid a volatile foundation. But why do we hear about it now?
Not interestingly, it all began with yet another single incident of rape.
In 2007, Myanmar was engulfed in economic turmoil, igniting the Saffron Revolution—a Buddhist monk-led uprising. The military, viewing the monks as a threat, responded with brutality, dispatching commandos to monasteries. Countless monks were killed or imprisoned as the regime tightened its grip.
By 2008, the military solidified its power with a new constitution, placing itself above the law and claiming victory. After years of house arrest, Aung San Suu Kyi, a democracy icon and leader of the National League for Democracy (NLD), was finally released. NLD’s popularity was rising rapidly, unsettling the military’s hold on power. So the military needed a public diversion. In 2012, tensions erupted when a Buddhist woman was raped and killed, allegedly by three Rohingya Muslim men. Experts think the entire thing was fabricated.
The Information Ministry deliberately spread her photo in mutilated gory details, sparking massive outrage. In retaliation, “peaceful” Buddhists attacked a bus in a cultlike fashion, killing ten Muslim passengers, setting the stage for systematic ethnic cleansing after June 8, 2012.
The Burmese state manufactured and spread the perceived Rohingya threat to a gargantuan degree to justify their systematic campaign of ethnic cleansing, perpetuating societal fear, and providing a moral justification for their actions. In 2015, NLD triumphed in the elections, but the introduction of the National Verification Card further marginalized the Rohingya.
Suu Kyi, a woman, who earned a Nobel Peace Prize in 1991 for her nonviolent struggle, later appeared more Houdini than hero, seeming to shove down her power while remaining silent as Rohingya women’s bodies became tools of the conflict. Maybe male or female or intersex— whoever goes to Lanka, becomes Ravana after all.
Lanka here is the proverbial patriarchal power position, of course.
The situation remains dire as the ongoing conflict has forced at least 60,000 Rohingya to flee to Bangladesh since late 2023.
Many report severe trauma and abuse at the hands of both military troops and insurgents. In the refugee camps of Cox’s Bazar, women and girls—who make up 52% of the refugee population [2]—are particularly vulnerable, facing threats of kidnappings, shootings, and sexual violence.
Reports reveal a rise in gang violence, creating an environment of fear that confines women to their homes and limits access to vital services. As international funding dwindles, Rohingya struggle with diminishing resources and increasing instability. The stories of despair echo through the camps, painting a Goya-like grim black portrait of a future overshadowed by violence and uncertainty.
However, amidst the gloominess of conflict and the oppressive weight of genocide, Rohingya women are still rising as beacons of hope and resilience. The Shanti Mohila, a remarkable group of over 400 women in the refugee camps, defy societal norms and stand as leaders and advocates for their community [3].
Despite enduring unspeakable violence, they mobilize to raise awareness of the large-scale sexual and gender-based violence inflicted upon them. Their voices echo in international justice proceedings, breaking down the stigma of victimhood and inspiring the next generations of Rohingya women.
The United Nations has honored Shanti Mohila as Raphael Lemkin Champions of Prevention. Their testimonies have been pivotal in bringing about legal actions, such as the recent arrest warrants against Myanmar officials for genocide.
Their evidence of scars highlights the intent behind the atrocities, crucial in holding the perpetrators accountable. Within the camps, they continue to provide peer support and promote awareness of justice processes, proving to be a stabilizing force amid evolving conflict dynamics.
But even when Rohingya women are fighting back with resilience and determination, for Bangladesh and the international community, much remains to be done. Despite propaganda machines attempting to label the Rohingya as Bengalis and Myanmar’s efforts to push this population into Bangladesh as if washing their hands of responsibility, the Rohingya hold firmly to their Burmese roots.
Bangladesh, grappling with economic challenges and post-July 2024 political upheaval, stands in urgent need of international intervention to find a lasting resolution. Life in the camps is untenable, with women facing particular vulnerabilities in healthcare, giving birth in unsanitary conditions. The conversation also must urgently shift to addressing rape as a weapon of violence, recognizing that no human being should endure life under such circumstances.
I was discussing this topic with a friend of mine last night who naïvely asked why it isn’t talked about more. I replied, saying it’s not “sexy” enough for the international spotlight. It isn’t for Bangladeshis either. The fact that the Rohingya are Muslim adds another variable to this equation, I believe.
Bangladesh is a republic with Muslim majority of course. However, much like the way Pakistani “Ashraaf” Muslims looked down on Bengali “Atraaf” Muslims before 1971, many Bengali Muslims look down on the Rohingya and want to brush the issue off as if they do not exist.
I therefore believe that it is time to confront the highly nationalistic perspectives and pseudo-notions akin to Nietzschean blood theory that prevent us from understanding that beyond education level, beliefs, language or dialect or skin colour, the Rohingya are human beings.
We sometimes say, “women are the proletariat of the proletariat.” This holds especially true for Rohingya women; I believe they are the proletariat of the proletariat of the proletariat.
When their race has been denied basic human rights for generations, treated as subhuman by the Myanmar population and now by a large number of Bangladeshis, the challenges they face as women become even more incomprehensible.
Being a woman is not easy.
Being human, being a man, being intersex is not easy either. But when you carry the entire notion of Madonna and whore in your genitalia, becoming the weapon that is used to kill you, becoming the phallic shaped nationalistic idea that is used to rape you, mutilate you, the choices you make regarding that genitalia define your character, the choices that are made to your genitalia against your will define your character, placing you on an ethical scale where your value is measured; your life becomes harder than any other sex as in the relentless judgment every decision is scrutinized, making existence a labyrinth of societal expectations and harsh realities where Rohingya women’s bodies become the warzone of a toxic patriarchal nationalistic surplus resource-based weapon-selling uncivilized human existence called civilization on the face of this rotting earth.
It is time we stop using women’s bodies to prove our points. It is time we start regarding these Rohingya women as human beings.
Because they are.
Source:
[1] https://www.rfa.org/english/myanmar/2025/02/06/myanmar-rohingya-women-sexual-assault/
[2] https://www.thenewhumanitarian.org/news-feature/2023/05/09/aid-rohingya-women-violence-bangladesh
Nadia Islam is a writer, activist, feminist, and forensic researcher.
