The Tamesis
kathmandu – In late December, a Facebook user uploaded a photo showing Rastriya Swatantra Party leader Ranju Darshana with his hand on her pregnant belly. The caption read: “Due to my health condition, I have decided to stay in the proportional representation list: Ranju Darshana.” The comments the post received were far from encouraging. “If she was pregnant, I don’t think she would be able to work,” one user declared. Another netizen wrote: “It would be better if she stayed at home instead of appearing on the PR list.” Most of the more than 500 comments under the post criticized Darshana’s decision, some of which even bordered on abuse.
This means that pregnant women cannot hold leadership positions and are not suitable for public life. Darshana later got a ticket to contest in the first-past-the-poster category in Kathmandu 1 constituency in the March 5 elections.
The comments Darshana’s post received are representative of how Nepali society views female politicians. They are part of a larger pattern that treats women’s bodies as political responsibilities.
As in previous elections, political parties are fielding the smallest number of women in the upcoming elections, thus reducing women’s candidacy.
Even for those who achieved candidacy, it was difficult for society to accept it.
Despite the constitutional guarantee of equal rights, women have always been viewed as electoral responsibilities rather than legitimate political actors. They fielded only 11% of women in top-of-the-line elections, which is not well represented in male-dominated parties and exposes their deep-seated gender bias.
Now that these women are out campaigning, the ostracism continues due to insults, hostility and hate on social media.
Feminist writer Sabitri Gautam believes this is part of a wider social trend. “In Nepal, it is common to see women less as minds and more as bodies,” Gautam said. Women entering public life are primarily assessed not on the basis of their ideas but on their age, appearance, health and reproductive status.
This is not new. Gautam noted that feminist writers and activists have long been reviled for daring to challenge dominant narratives. The nature of abuse varies by gender. “Men who think differently will never be sexually abused,” Gautam explains. “Their bodies were not targeted.”
For women, however, political disagreements can quickly turn into physical humiliation and personal attacks.
Gautam believes that in Darshana’s case, the attack turned into outright violence. “To make fun of her condition, to target her body, is violence,” she said. Darshana’s pregnancy became a tool to disqualify her candidacy.
“Even facing such difficult and extraordinary physical conditions, Ranju was busy with her political campaign,” Gautam added. “She doesn’t want to miss this rare political opportunity… It’s up to all of us, including social media users, to make her feel safe and healthy, not just physically but emotionally.”
Instead, insisting that she withdraw from the candidacy, take a break or remain invisible betrays outright misogyny and cyberbullying, Gautam believes. “The purpose of this line of thinking is to force women out of political life.”
Managing this hostility has become part of the campaign. Anjal Adhikari, a volunteer on Darshana’s social media team, describes how dealing with abuse is now the norm. “We went through all her social media pages,” he said. The team countered negative comments by flooding the post with promotional material, while also distributing posters highlighting Dashana’s past work. This helps generate more supportive responses, but it also sheds light on how female candidates must defend their rights and even participate in campaigns.
This logic that sees women’s bodies as grounds for political disqualification extends far beyond pregnancy.
Prime Minister Sushila Karki has been subjected to online abuse on multiple occasions, not because of her policies or decisions, but because of her age and gender.
Critics asked her why she didn’t continue Tirthayatratelling her that she was now “of pilgrim age.” Others wrote that she should stay home and rest, demonstrating her inability to lead the country.
The message mirrors what pregnant candidates are hearing: There is a narrow window in which women are considered acceptable in politics, and outside of that window, they need to disappear.
Whether a woman is pregnant, aging, or perceived to be incapacitated, her body becomes a reason for rejection.
This burden is familiar to nearly all politically ambitious women. Tashi Lhazom, a climate activist who is contesting for the RSP in Humla, said there was a constant need to justify her candidacy. “As female candidates, we have to defend our candidacy, while men don’t have to defend their candidacy,” she said. For women from minority backgrounds like Razom, the scrutiny is even more intense. “They use your gender and identity against you.”
Early in the campaign, Tashi was told to “go back to where you came from.” Questions were reportedly raised over her Nepali identity when she was being considered for a post as interim government minister. The hostility is relentless. Tashi said she stopped reading hateful comments entirely to protect her mental health. Some public sympathy came later, but the damage was done.
Research and media reports consistently show that online violence against women in Nepalese politics increases during election periods. Social media contributes to this violence because it rewards anger, while insults delivered digitally have no real impact. Women have to contend with what Gautam calls “iron gates” – standards of perfection, endurance and respectability that men are never required to live up to.
The question is not whether women can handle this pressure. Many people already do this. The question, as human rights activists say, is whether a country that repeatedly tells politicians of one gender to go home, rest, pray or have children can be called a true democracy.
