Are reserved seats for women in parliament creating political agency, or only creating presence?

Who goes to Parliament? With women making up roughly half of Bangladesh’s population, one would objectively assume that their representation would be visibly reflected in the national legislature.

Yet the people’s choice of representatives in Bangladesh continues to be disproportionately shaped by gendered political structures, party calculations, and social bias. No, it is not a hard and fast rule that only women will represent women.

But given the demographic reality of the country, it is often shocking to notice how female politicians repeatedly hit a certain glass ceiling in national politics. This is where reserved seats for women enter the conversation. Reserved seats in Parliament are often treated as a step towards upholding women’s voices and as an indication of progress towards democracy and inclusion. The system has certainly ensured numerical representation, but the impact of that participation remains deeply debatable.

The 13th National Parliament has arrived after a major political shift. There is, therefore, renewed public interest in representation, and a higher expectation that lawmakers will not merely occupy seats but actively shape governance. In the 13th Parliament, all 50 reserved women’s seats have now been filled. Of them, 36 went to the BNP-led alliance, 13 to the Jamaat-e-Islami-led 11-party alliance, and one to the independent bloc.

At the same time, only seven women were directly elected to the 300 general seats. This contrast is striking. On one side, 50 women entered Parliament through reserved seats without direct public contest. On the other, only seven women earned direct mandates from voters.

This is where the question becomes unavoidable: are reserved seats creating political agency, or are they only creating presence? For this article, we conducted a small exploratory survey with 60 respondents to understand public perception and expectation from reserved-seat MPs. The respondents showed familiarity with the concept and demonstrated an impressively clear understanding of its objective. This generation has its doubts, and so do we.

Reserved seats are seemingly a means to ensure female representation, empower women, and make space for women in politics. The process is often considered a circuit breaker that enables the normalization of women’s presence as leaders in a male-dominated political system.

Nonetheless, whether these seats guarantee representation but not participation remains a question on our minds. Around 60 percent of respondents did not believe women MPs from reserved seats would have any meaningful impact on decision-making, mainly because they are selected by political parties, not directly elected by the people. In nomination, the obligation is formed not towards citizens but towards party leadership. Needless to say, a nominated MP is more likely to prioritize party allegiance over civic responsibility.

This is not a question of individual ability. It is a question of political structure. In Bangladesh, MPs are already constrained by Article 70 of the Constitution, which restricts MPs elected as party nominees from voting against their party or resigning from it without losing their seat. Under such conditions, it is unrealistic to expect nominated female MPs to demonstrate full assertiveness when their political legitimacy depends more on party leadership than on voters.

Thus, power in politics must come from citizens and not merely from party leaders. Female politicians are often perceived to have a high level of commitment to social justice.

Yet this potential is not fully realized when partisan interests outweigh public interest. Consider Barrister Rumin Farhana. She is a nationally recognized political figure, yet she contested as an independent candidate. Her victory shows that women often need to fight for recognition not only against rival parties but sometimes within their own political homes.

Women do not lack political capability. What they often lack is access, nomination, resources, party backing, and public confidence shaped by decades of patriarchal conditioning.

Therefore, positive discrimination cannot by itself bring change to the core. It may serve as a temporary push, but it does very little to dismantle deeply rooted patriarchal structures and inequalities within society. For real change to occur, young girls must see female politicians being elected, not merely appointed or symbolically included. Parties must nominate more women in competitive constituencies, not only in seats where victory is unlikely or defeat can be conveniently blamed on gender.

This Parliament will witness many new faces. But hope alone is not enough. Reserved seats may still have a role to play, but they cannot be the final destination of women’s political empowerment. They should be treated as a bridge, not a ceiling.

Perhaps one day, reserved seats themselves will become unnecessary, replaced by a Parliament where women rise through equal opportunity, earn mandates through voters, and lead with authority. Powerful female MPs will help define the future of Parliament itself. Shehreen Amin Bhuiyan Monami is a public administration scholar at the University of Dhaka, working at the intersection of gender, governance, and democratic political agency in Bangladesh.