WAZ mahfils — Islamic religious sermons rooted in centuries of South Asian Islamic tradition — have long served as spaces for spiritual guidance, communal unity, and a shared moral framework for communities across both rural and urban spaces. Many of these wazs continue to offer meaningful religious education and moral direction grounded in Islamic knowledge and history. However, it is equally important to acknowledge a parallel trend: the growing number of wazs that exploit authoritative platforms to defame women and curtail their agency, framing such autonomy as incompatible with, or even subversive to, normative interpretations of Islamic spiritual ideals. These discourses, veiled in the rhetoric of religious devotion, possess significant cultural capital and are disseminated widely — through digital media and everyday social interactions — thereby shaping collective consciousness and perpetuating systemic violence enacted through gendered power dynamics.
Let us then critically analyse how, in the name of religious preaching, such waz increasingly influence societal perceptions and shape public attitudes toward women, contributing not only to their marginalisation but also to a wider culture of gender-based violence and systemic erasure.
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Misogyny in the name of religious morality
WHAT occurs in many of these waz mahfils these days is not a mere expression of religious opinion but a performative act of disciplining and punishing the female body in public discourse. Women are blamed for moral deviation and the erosion of male authority. They are constructed as sources of temptation and social disruption — figures whose mere visibility in public life, especially without adherence to total bodily covering or the prescribed codes of ‘proper’ dress, is framed as a threat to both religious virtue and social stability. This discursive construction operates with ideological force. As Judith Butler reminds us, such ‘performative utterances’ do not merely describe social realities — they actively constitute them. When such misogynistic narratives are repeated across platforms, they shape public consciousness and normalise gendered oppression.
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Emotional economy of hate
THIS affective charge is central to what feminist scholar Sara Ahmed terms ‘affective economies’. In these waz mahfils, emotions like shame, fear, and hatred are not confined to the private sphere — they circulate. They bind the audience into a collective moral panic against a common figure: the ‘bad woman’ who dresses freely or resists traditional norms. These emotions are strategically cultivated and attached to specific bodies — women’s bodies. In this emotional regime, hate is not an aberration but a binding force. The repeated invocation of these figures in waz is not simply rhetorical; it lays the affective groundwork for justifying public harassment, enabling domestic violence, and reinforcing broader patterns of control over women’s bodies.
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Symbolic violence as the root of misogyny
THE issue at hand is not merely how misogyny is produced but how it is systemically reproduced, institutionalised, and weaponised. Delivered waz function as vehicles for transmitting misogynistic ideologies, normalising unequal power relations by dehumanising women. Drawing from Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of symbolic violence— where power hierarchies are internalised and normalised — we see how such discourse embeds gender inequality deep within the cultural and ideological order. Far from being merely conceptual, symbolic violence materialises in the quotidian experiences of gendered subjects.
When women’s public presence without purdah (proper covering) is repeatedly labelled as fitna (temptation), or their advocacy for rights equated with moral decay, such notions solidify into cultural common sense. Women are instructed to remain silent, stay indoors, and conform to prescribed dress codes, while boys internalise these restrictions as divine or natural laws. These are performative utterances that govern behaviour. Over time, such ideological conditioning embeds itself within institutions and relationships, legitimising male control.
A Marxist framework — particularly Louis Althusser’s theory of ideological state apparatuses — reveals how religious discourse operates as a mechanism of ideological control. Within this discursive formation, women are cast as the ‘other,’ perceived threats to social order and familial honour. Such rhetoric does more than stigmatise — it stabilises the dominant order by linking gendered subordination to moral and spiritual imperatives. By portraying women as catalysts of societal decline, these discourses naturalise control over both labour and dissent, securing the reproduction of patriarchal and authoritarian structures under the guise of religious virtue.
It often operates through the language of reverence. Women are said to hold the highest status in Islam — as mothers, caregivers, and moral guardians of the household. This reverence is then used to justify their confinement. ‘Women are respected; therefore, they should stay home’ becomes the cultural refrain. In this narrative, a woman’s highest virtue lies in her domesticity. Her respectability is conditional upon her invisibility in public life.
This form of ideological control, however, does not always manifest in overt subjugation. Women are often ascribed the highest moral and spiritual status in Islamic traditions — as mothers, caregivers, and custodians of familial virtue. This idealised reverence is strategically appropriated to justify their marginalisation and confinement within the domestic sphere. The axiom ‘Women are respected; therefore, they should remain at home’ becomes a widely accepted cultural refrain, perpetuating the notion that a woman’s highest moral and social worth resides in her domesticity. Her respectability is consequently framed as contingent upon her erasure from the public domain. In this ideological construct, caregiving — both physical and emotional — is not merely presented as one of several roles but as the inherent, divinely ordained purpose of women. This subtle yet powerful ideological manoeuvre masks subordination as an act of honour, reinforcing control while appearing benevolent and protective. The overall result of this symbolic and ideological training is the strengthening of gender norms that continue to cause harm, maintaining both systemic inequalities and social practices that limit women’s independence.
One of the most alarming trends emerging from certain popular Islamic preachers — figures with mass followings and considerable cultural influence in the community — is the open glorification of polygyny (having multiple wives at the same time), the encouragement of having numerous children, and the denial of the question of marital rape. This discourse not only silences dissent but also renders systemic gender oppression invisible, excused, and even celebrated in the name of faith. Many Islamic leaders dismiss marital rape as a ‘Western’ construct, reinforcing the belief that women’s consent is irrelevant within marriage. Such views not only silence women but also exacerbate victim-blaming, further victimising women and deepening their suffering. By framing non-consensual sex as a marital obligation, this discourse dismisses women’s agency and severely masquerades their ability to seek justice or protection.
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Political economy of gendered labour and sexual control
AT THE core of this system lies a political economy that benefits, even thrives on, the oppression of women. Drawing from Marxist feminist theories of ideology and cultural reproduction, misogyny is understood not merely as a cultural phenomenon but as a structural pillar of economic exploitation. Patriarchy, like class oppression, functions as an ideological tool of the ruling class, enforcing a gendered division of labour that keeps women economically dependent and politically docile. When women are denied education, excluded from formal labour markets, or relegated to unpaid caregiving, their contributions are systematically erased from historical and economic narratives, marginalising their role in both the labour force and the political sphere. Misogynistic discourses — such as the glorification of polygyny or denial of the question of marital rape — reinforce this structure by making women’s bodies and labour the property of men.
This normalisation of gender-based violence — from marital rape to economic deprivation — is not incidental but intentional. It helps maintain hierarchical control over both family units and the broader labour force. As women internalise their subordination and men assert it as a moral duty, the system reproduces itself generation after generation. In this way, misogyny becomes not just an attitude but a deeply profitable and politically strategic structure — one that sustains patriarchal capitalism and authoritarian governance. It corrodes democracy and human rights and mutual respect while masquerading as cultural or religious tradition.
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Why inciting hatred is not freedom of speech
TO FRAME such dangerous rhetoric as ‘freedom of expression’ is not only misleading — it is politically reckless and ethically indefensible. Freedom of speech, in democratic societies, does not protect incitement to hatred or the glorification of violence. In any democratic society, as established in both international human rights law and national constitutional principles, there is a critical distinction between expressing one’s belief and advocating harm. This distinction is outlined in frameworks like the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which explicitly permits restrictions on speech that incites discrimination, hostility, or violence. As political theorist John Stuart Mill articulated, the harm principle must be the guiding force in determining the limits of free speech. When speech causes tangible harm to individuals or communities, particularly in the form of marginalisation, dehumanisation, and violence, it is no longer an issue of free expression but rather one of social and ethical responsibility.
Islamic legal scholar Khaled Abou El Fadl argues that religious discourse must be anchored in principles of justice, equality, and human dignity. When religious teachings are co-opted to legitimise misogyny or structural violence, it not only distorts the ethical foundations of Islam but also corrodes the integrity of the broader faith community. Postcolonial legal theorist and Islamic legal scholar Wael Hallaq, in his critique of modernity and the colonisation of Islamic thought, underscores how the instrumentalisation of religion to serve state or patriarchal power represents a profound departure from classical Islamic epistemologies, which emphasised moral restraint and the preservation of human dignity.
This distortion of Islamic teachings not only harms women but also fuels Islamophobia, offering ammunition to those who portray Islam as inherently regressive. Misogynistic sermons tarnish the very faith they claim to protect and embolden forces that demonise Muslims globally. Principled religious leadership demands moral accountability: Islamic scholars must confront theological manipulation, educators must cultivate critical thinking, and families must raise boys with a deep commitment to gender justice. Free speech must never serve as a shield for inciting hatred or legitimising violence. The purpose of waz is to cultivate spiritual wisdom, maintain communal unity, and uphold moral integrity. As Hallaq argues, the politicisation of sacred texts reduces a rich moral tradition to an instrument of domination — one that betrays the ethical foundations of Islam and renders women vulnerable to patriarchal abuse in the name of divine authority. Let us reclaim our waz tradition as a space for ethical reflection, justice-centred spirituality, and the reaffirmation of human dignity for all.
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Tina Nandi is a part-time faculty member of the Department of English and Humanities at the University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh and a former broadcast journalist.
