A comprehensive investigation exposing how Nepal's patriarchal systems—legal, cultural, and political—collude to suppress women, disable justice, and protect male power. Features analysis of Angira Pasi case, ISKCON misogyny, and systemic gender violence.
Patriarchy in Nepal is not an outdated cultural habit. It is a living, breathing system of control. A hydra with three heads — social norms, legal codes, and institutional structures — all reinforcing each other in a feedback loop of inequality. Coined by scholar Sanjeev Uprety, this "three-headed hydra" perfectly captures how difficult it is to kill: cut off one head, and the others grow stronger.
In this system, violence against women isn't accidental—it's structural.
"Women were not forgotten—they were deliberately erased."
Research by Chetri & Karki (2024) reveals that exclusionary systems were embedded as far back as the Kirata and Lichhavi periods. From caste segregation to dowry practices and early marriage, the socio-religious systems were designed to restrict women's autonomy, participation, and voice.
Even religious texts like the Swasthani Bratakatha (Birkenholtz 2018, 2019) created an archetype of the "ideal woman" — obedient, suffering, forgiving — never powerful.
This wasn't culture. This was design.
Transcript (Nepali):
"केटाहरू भनेको बटर हो, केटीहरू भनेको आगो हो। बटरलाई आगोको नजिक लैजाऊ या आगोलाई बटरको नजिक लैजाऊ, पग्लिने भनेको बटर नै हो।"English translation:– Rupeshwor Gaur Das, Aug 15, 2025
"Boys are butter, girls are fire. Whether you bring butter near the fire or bring the fire near the butter, the one that melts is the butter."
Religious extremism in Nepal is undergoing a renaissance — online. ISKCON-linked sermons now preach that women are responsible for their own safety by staying silent, obedient, and confined. One popular analogy went viral:
"Even artificial flowers are kept indoors to protect them from dust."
This metaphor isn't innocent. It suggests that women must be locked away, covered, and obedient — not to protect their dignity, but to avoid tempting men. It reduces agency to appearance, and safety to submission.
These views are spread through TikTok reels, YouTube lectures, and Facebook lives — reaching hundreds of thousands.
"Women's safety is our top priority."
– Election Manifestos, 2017 & 2022
Let's assess that promise.
Nepal's mainstream political parties have historically used women's rights as campaign slogans. But the follow-through is dismal. Budget allocations are symbolic, legislative amendments are weak, and implementation is almost nonexistent.
| Year | Pledge | Reality |
|---|---|---|
| 2017 | Gender-based violence courts | Only 3 fully functional by 2025 |
| 2022 | 33% women in leadership | Barely 18% participation in key positions |
| 2024 | Online abuse safety cell | 13,000+ cyber abuse cases with <5% resolution |
For Dalit, Muslim, Madheshi women, even basic access to justice is uncertain. In Dhanusha, a Dalit teenager was denied an FIR twice. In multiple TikTok-linked trafficking cases, survivors are unnamed, unrescued, and unacknowledged.
Social media in Nepal is not an equal space. It is a mirror of our offline violence — only louder, more viral, and more vicious.
TikTok trends romanticize abuse. Facebook groups normalize slut-shaming. Surveillance of women is celebrated. We are creating a generation of men who confuse digital violence with masculinity.
"It exists in the constitution, but not in practice."
Nepal's laws might seem progressive on paper — banning child marriage, criminalizing marital rape, ensuring equal inheritance. But implementation is practically nonexistent.
These aren't exceptions. They are patterns. Justice in Nepal is a lottery, and women almost never win.
This classification model visualizes how the same act of abuse can be perceived and treated differently depending on the perpetrator's relationship to the survivor. While abuse by strangers often triggers outrage and action, domestic and familial abuse is shrouded in denial, silence, or even victim-blaming.
For instance, when the perpetrator is a father, husband, or uncle, the abuse is often framed as "misunderstanding," "private matter," or "shameful for the family," pushing survivors into withdrawal or silence. In contrast, cases involving strangers or criminals outside the household are more likely to provoke state response and public empathy.
This asymmetry isn't accidental — it is how patriarchy protects itself, by rewriting violence as either personal sin or unfortunate accident when the perpetrator is part of the family structure.
This pattern of impunity is epitomized by the case of Angira Pasi, a 12-year-old Dalit girl from Rupandehi who was found dead shortly after being coerced into marrying the man who had raped her. Instead of prosecuting the rapist, the community elders proposed marriage as a resolution.
Within days of the "marriage," Angira was found hanging from a tree. Police refused to investigate properly. No convictions were made.
Her death isn't an anomaly. It is the logical outcome of a system that prioritizes male reputation and community honor over a girl's life. And it proves, again, that for many girls in Nepal, the only thing more dangerous than being raped is speaking about it.
Uprety's metaphor is no exaggeration. Social norms define women as second-class citizens. Institutional structures keep them economically and politically weak. And legal systems fail to protect — or worse, punish — victims.
Together, they form a self-reinforcing machine that is immune to shallow reform. You can't just fix the law and expect justice. You must also uproot the cultural and structural roots feeding it.
We live in a society where a woman dancing online is labeled immoral — while a man threatening acid attacks is considered "just joking." Where survivors are interrogated, and perpetrators are lawyers. Where police stations dismiss violence with, "What's the big deal?"
This paper is not a commentary. It is a red alert.
The three-headed hydra of patriarchy — norms, structures, laws — is alive and thriving in Nepal. If we want change, we need to attack all three simultaneously. Not with symbolism, but with strategy. Not with posters, but with prosecution.
CONCRETE DEMANDS
This is where change begins. This is what we demand.
• Immediately pass the long-stalled bill criminalizing marital rape without exception.
• Mandate that 33% of political leadership positions—not just membership—be held by women.
• Create fast-track courts for gender violence with mandatory sentencing guidelines.
• Launch an independent commission to audit law enforcement failure in all unresolved cases since 2015.
NO MORE EXCUSES. NO MORE DELAYS.
We cannot keep asking women to protect themselves while the state watches in silence.
If you are neutral in a system this violent, you are complicit.
This is the battle. This is the blueprint.
Either we dismantle it — or it dismantles us.
v0.2 - 27 Sep 2025
Report published. Added comprehensive PDF dossier with analysis graphs and supporting evidence.
v0.1 - 26 Sep 2025
Initial publication. Article updated, waiting for report. To be updated soon after government bodies provide us respective data.
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Editor's Note
This is the first draft of a series. Despite our commitment to neutral standing, a matter like this needs to be politically motivated. In the quiet corridors where power whispers its secrets, we find ourselves compelled to speak truth to the silence that has protected injustice for too long. This is not mere journalism—it is an act of resistance against the three-headed hydra that has made its home in our institutions, our laws, and our collective conscience.