By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer
Tanjila Afrin is currently pursuing a master of arts in international studies at SFU. Before enrolling in the program, Afrin worked as a humanitarian aid worker. With a background in environmental science, she was deployed to Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, to support safe water hygiene and sanitation services in Rohingya refugee camps. Now at SFU, Afrin’s master’s research project spotlights the structural challenges confronted by Rohingya migrant women under an oppressive environment of displacement, patriarchal dominance, precarious labour, and as unrecognized refugees. The Peak spoke with Afrin to learn more.
Who are the Rohingya?
The Rohingya are a majority Muslim, ethnic minority group who are Indigenous to Rakhine State, Myanmar. Under Myanmar’s 1982 Citizenship Law, the government refuses to recognize the Rohingya as an Indigenous group, claiming they are illegal immigrants from neighbouring Bangladesh. Anti-Rohingya sentiments in the country are rife and based in Islamophobia and Buddhist nationalism. In 2017, the Burmese military killed more than 30,000 people, and over 700,000 were displaced, an event the UN has described as a genocide. Over 1.5 million Rohingya currently live in precarious camps in Bangladesh, with limited humanitarian support.
“In Myanmar, [the Rohingya] are deprived of all kinds of civil rights, including employment, mobility, education, and any right that a normal citizen would have had effortlessly,” said Afrin. In the face of ongoing persecution and violence, returning to Myanmar is a remote possibility for Rohingya refugees who have fled to other states. “Many are hopeful for a resettlement process to a third country,” Afrin continued, “but it’s an extremely slow process.” Resettlement involves moving to a country that offers better civil rights, safety, and opportunity.
A culture of discrimination
Malaysia is a critical destination for Rohingya escaping the Myanmar military’s ongoing war crimes in Rakhine state. Afrin observed “solidarity, compassion, pity, and kindness” from Malaysians during that time; however, “over the years, there was this frustration, like, ‘we do not want to keep you forever.’ That kind of narrative started to circulate.” At the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, there was a clear shift in public opinion in Malaysia against the Rohingya. Online hate campaigns and discriminatory rhetoric have become normalized. Dehumanizing language and stereotypes in nationalist campaigns aim to scapegoat the Rohingya for economic and social instability in the country.
She continued, “The compassion and solidarity diminished. Now, even many of my interviewees said they still think of themselves as a ‘burden.’”
Systemic challenges
Rohingya refugees are considered undocumented migrants in Malaysia and Bangladesh. Both are members of the UN, yet neither has signed the 1951 Refugee Convention. Refugees in these non-signatory nations, as a result, are denied the basic right to housing, work, and education, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation in the absence of legal protection.
Obtaining a UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) Card would reduce their risk of detainment and barriers to medical care, education, and other integral services. While Afrin observed that Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh had access to the UNHCR Card, a majority of those in Malaysia lack this form of identification.
Without the UNHCR Card, Afrin recalled Rohingya women telling her how they’d refuse to step out of their homes for fear of being confronted, arrested, or detained by authorities. Childbirth is another challenge. Rohingya women without status in Malaysia are forced to pay a foreigner’s fee, which can cost thousands of dollars.
Obtaining the UNHCR document is a lengthy process that takes years, and “even with that card, you face so many barriers,” Afrin reflected. “Just imagine, without the UN card, you just have to be invisible. And those women were invisible.”
Intensification of patriarchal dominance under forced displacement
Ongoing persecution in Myanmar, and fear of repatriation combined with limited opportunities in Bangladesh’s refugee camps, push Rohingya women to Malaysia, where “most of them think it’s a better life,” Afrin remarked. With most unable to afford the services of smugglers, Rohingya women are confronted with a treacherous journey across international borders where human trafficking is rampant. They are coerced into exchanging their freedom through arranged marriages to Rohingya men in Malaysia whom they’ve never met.
“These women got onto a boat and gambled. It’s a life and death situation. After that, that girl is completely dependent on her husband. She doesn’t even know if she’s ever going to see her family [again],” Afrin said. Without a formal education, Rohingya women in Malaysia are financially dependent on men. “There is a huge power gap,” Afrin explained.
The devaluing of informal social reproductive work
Afrin commented on how informal work performed by Rohingya women, including social reproductive and care work, is overlooked by their communities:
“The man who goes to work every day — he’s able to go because the woman is putting the food on the table. The woman is cleaning the clothes, washing, and taking care of the babies. All of these things are unrecognized.”
—Tanjila Afrin
“Even the women would devalue their own labour because there is not much consciousness around it.”
Afrin has likewise encountered women engaged in informal income-generating work, employed as cleaners, vegetable vendors, and scrap collectors in Kuala Lumpur. Many were divorced, widowed, or had husbands with disabilities.
“And when in the context of a host country, the share of work trauma, barriers, social barriers, all these things kind of multiply, especially for a woman. So these are like multiple blockades that they face in their lives every day.”
Community resilience
Despite numerous challenges, Afrin reflected on the Rohingya as a community-oriented people. They would actively seek out their own village members while in Malaysia, forming community clusters with people from the same village or townships back in Myanmar. “They kind of know each other and build a support system. They help each other in a real and very meaningful way. They’re very engaged in each other’s lives,” Afrin noted.
“For example, if somebody just got out of jail, or a new migrant, or somebody lost their job — these are their daily life scenarios — or someone’s husband died or was expelled from work, whatever the reasons are, they would seek refuge with their relatives.”
“Women would also help each other to find work. And if they lose their jobs, which can happen in a day’s notice, they can borrow money from each other.” This was a survival tactic, especially during COVID-19 lockdowns.
“[Rohingya] women would often gather together — maybe arrange a small feast. And they would chat, laugh, and cry together. They would watch over each other’s children. They would support each other.”
—Tanjila Afrin
“So all these things, I think, are very important to them to survive as a community, as a diaspora, in the context of a host country.”
