In Bangladesh, over 90% women lose their names due to cultural norms rooted in patriarchy. It is time we challenge this tradition and honour women by using their real names, and respect their individual identity.

Md. Ibrahim Khalil

A few days ago, I was sitting on the pavement in Mirpur, Dhaka waiting for a friend. It was crowded, and a 65-year-old woman was sitting next to me. I was quietly reading a newspaper, but after a few minutes, she broke the silence, asking my reason for being there. Then she asked about my profession. When I told her I was a journalist, she was fascinated, and started discussing various topics with me. She told me that she was a housewife, and her husband recently retired from government service. The elder of her two daughters was a teacher and the younger one was looking for a job. Eventually, I asked for her name. Remarkably, she laughed at my question and said, ‘Oh God! Does anyone ask the names of people of my age? I am an old lady!’ Later, she told me, ‘My name is Taslima Ahmed Mimi.’ I then asked her why she was surprised when I asked for her name. She said no one had ever asked for her name in the past 20 years. ‘No one even called me by my name!’ she declared. In Bangladesh, almost 90% of women like Mimi are losing their names. Women who are over 50 years old have to think hard to remember the last time they were called by their name. Usually, they are called ‘bou’ (wife) or ‘ma’ (mother) with the prefix of their husband’s or child’s name instead of their own. For example, if her husband’s name is Michael, then she is called Michael’s bou. After having a child, if her child’s name is Ali, then she is called Ali’s ma. The way women are addressed also changes based on relationships and age. For example, children call female relatives ‘bhabhi’ (sister-in-law), ‘chachi/fufu/khala’ (aunt), or ‘daadi/nani’ (grandmother), etc. This is the case with most women, even for those in the workplace, especially those who work in middle and lower positions. The only exception seems to be women in high-ranking positions, who may be called by their name in the workplace, but even this is often lost in their family home. The question is, why does this happen? In South Asian culture, it is considered rude to call elders by their first names. Instead, they are addressed as Bhabhi, Chachi, Daadi, etc. based on their relationship. Like most of the world, Bangladesh is a patriarchal society—everything is male-controlled; the social power structure is male-centric. Society wants women to be identified after their relation to a man. But how does a woman feel when she is addressed thus instead of her name? This practice has been going on for ages, and perhaps this question has never been raised. We don’t question how destitute a woman must feel to lose her name like this. After my encounter with Mimi, I discussed this with some other women. One such woman is Syeda Mahbooba. This 70-year-old lady lives with her son’s family. While I was talking to her son, she was sitting on one side of the table serving me breakfast. When I asked her what her name was, she smiled and covered her face with the edge of her saree. She asked me, ‘Why do you want to know my name?’ Then I asked, ‘When was the last time someone called your name?’ She replied, ‘Long ago, when my father was alive.’ Similarly, I wanted to know the name of Sharmin Begum. Begum, 55, kept laughing when I asked for her name. She has been working in Dhaka for about eight years as a helping hand in different houses

“Women who are over 50 years old have to think hard to remember the last time they were called by their name. Usually, they are called ‘bou’ (wife) or ‘ma’ (mother) with the prefix of their husband’s or child’s name instead of their own.”

across the capital. She hears her name only when she visits her village. She is mostly called Rabiul’s mother, in acknowledgement of her eldest son. In fact, a woman in Bangladesh usually only hears her name when she is at her father’s house, where their

parents and elders address her by name. As soon as these people pass away, so does the name of a woman. Begum is currently only called by name by her elder brother. Initially, I thought the patriarchal structure of our society was responsible for this situation and was interested to explore the scenario in matriarchal families. After going through government documents, I found two tribal societies in Bangladesh that have matriarchal family systems: the Garo tribe and the Khasia tribe. The Garos live in the Garo hills in the Mymensingh region, and the Khasias live in different areas of the Sylhet region. Since the Garos live closer to Dhaka, I visited Garo Hills in Jamalpur in the eastern part of Bangladesh. In the matriarchal Garo tribe, property or land is owned by women. When a Garo man gets married, he moves into his wife’s residence and helps her with agricultural and other household chores.

The core decisions in the family are usually made by women. Any children they have adopt their mother’s surname. In general, their society has very different rules than the majority of Bangladeshi society. And yet, the women of the indigenous Garo community are also losing their names. Under the influence of wider society, patriarchal influences are invading their matriarchal community. As a re- sult, Garo women are being added to the list of lost names. For example, Milon Dangu, a Garo woman, is now over 60 years old. Now no one calls her by her name because her parents and elders are dead. When I asked her, ‘Do you feel happy when some- one calls you by your name?’ She replied, ‘Who is not happy to be called by her name?’ While walking around the Garo hills, I visited another tribal woman’s house. There, a Bengali woman is working as a labourer for the household.

The 57-year-old tribal woman is Padma Sangma, and the 58-year-old Bengali woman is Zainab Begum. Most of their elders have passed. As a result, no one calls them by name anymore. They themselves admitted that they would be happy to be called by their names. At one point, I asked them the names of their grandmothers. While they could tell me the names of their grandfathers, they could not recall the names of their grandmothers. After observing this scenario in both patriarchal and matriarchal communities, I decided to investigate a society where women lived outside of the familial structure. I visited one of the largest broth-

els in South Asia at Dauldia in the Rajbari district. I spoke to 40-year-old sex worker Kulsum Khatun , who said that after fraudsters sold her to the brothel, she could not escape. She has been in the brothel for almost 25 years, but has never told anyone her

name for fear of revealing her identity which would cause social disgrace to her family. For professional reasons, every client calls her by a different name. To date, she has been known by eight to 10 different names. Incredibly, even women living outside of the patriarchal and matriarchal homes are unable to retain their real names. And so the question is, why do women have to sacrifice their names? In a patriarchal society where the restrictions of religion, society, and family run deep, we may never discover the answer. During our chat, Begum said, ‘I feel good when someone calls by my name. Maybe all women like it. If it was customary to call Sharmin Apa, Sharmin Khala, or Sharmin Dadi without hiding the name, it would not be all bad!’ I don’t know whether women like Sharmin Begum, Mimi, Milon Dangu, Zainab, Padma, or Kulsum will ever get their names back. But I believe that no woman’s name should become unfamiliar to her. Instead of this degenerated practice, let’s start calling women by their names.

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Md. Ibrahim Khalil is an as executive editor at Magic Lanthon (a film and media-based journal in Bangladesh). He is also a communications officer of Tobacco Tax Project at the Bureau of Economic Research, University of Dhaka. He has been working as a reporter since 2014. Currently, he is studying for a post graduate diploma in film and television at Pathshala South Asian Media Institute under the Adenauer Fellowship by Konrad Adenauer Stiftung Media Programme Asia.