The findings from the interview provide a detailed understanding of the barriers that my key informants identified while working with Rohingya beneficiaries. Situating the interviews into the existing literature, I categorize the findings into the following themes (a) religious beliefs, (b) myths and misconceptions about contraceptives and SRH services, (c) shame, stigma, and fear of identity disclosure, (d) service delivery challenges and the question of voluntary choices.
(a) Religious beliefs
Religious beliefs among the Rohingya were one of the significant barriers to providing SRH service to the Rohingya. According to Donald, an international healthcare practitioner,
The biggest challenge for us was to convince them (Rohingya) that contraceptives were not in contradiction with the teachings of Islam. In fact, there are quotes in Islam that can be viewed as supportive of child spacing, and we tried incorporating that into our communication materials and awareness programs.
According to Jannat et al., the reluctance to use SRH services, particularly contraceptives, among the Rohingya stems from a fear of divine punishment (12). Not only do most Rohingya women and girls believe that “children are blessings from god,” but that “disobeying their husbands” or denying them physical pleasure is a religious sin (12 p. 860). The Rohingya as a community also prefer bigger families. Discussing the role of religion, A.N.M. Zakir Hossain explains that such preference is rooted in certain value systems (13). First, the Rohingya believe they can benefit from their children’s good deeds since they are ‘God’s gift.’ And second, the political will or desire to have “more of their people” (13, pp. 18–19). In Myanmar, the military persecuted and expelled the Rohingya, an ethnic Muslim minority, from the country on the grounds of their religion. In this context, their “high fertility behaviour” can be considered a strategic and conscious choice to preserve their “Rohingya identity” and their cultural and religious attributes in the face of persecution (13).
The religious beliefs combined with existing gender norms also contribute to unequal power dynamics in marriages. Most of the time, Rohingya women need permission from their husbands to use contraceptives or seek SRH care. Hence, either disobeying or secretly using contraceptives may often result in men subjecting their wives to intimate-partner violence (IPV) (14, p. 5). While religious beliefs act as a significant barrier to the use of contraceptives among Rohingya women, it is essential to consider the role of bodily autonomy in their decision-making. Not choosing to use contraceptives to ensure their physical safety can also mean that Rohingya women choose to exercise agency over their bodies on their terms.
Additionally, it is essential to consider the socio-economic and living conditions in the camps. As most Rohingya women and girls depend on their husbands for their survival, ensuring the stability of their marriage gets a higher priority than using contraceptives (14). Prioritizing their marital stability and physical safety indicates that Rohingya women and girls negotiate their personal autonomy and reproductive choices within strict religious doctrines and the constraints of the camp setting.
(b) Myths and misconceptions about contraceptives and SRH services
There are prevalent myths and misconceptions among the Rohingya about contraceptive use and SRH services, which are rooted in religious beliefs and cultural practices. Islam et al., in their study, observed that one of the main barriers to condom use among married Rohingya men is rooted in the belief that contraceptives are a woman’s responsibility (15). Some of the key informants also shared that “Many Rohingya men stated that they feared irreversible physical damage, including impotence, as a result of using long and short-term contraceptives.” Khan et al. and Islam et al., in their respective studies, also found that similarly, Rohingya women and girls also sometimes believe that contraceptives cause serious harm to their health, including reducing their fertility and impacting their childbearing ability (16, 17). Many women mistakenly associate rashes and infections on the abdomen or becoming “skinny” as a negative side-effect of using short-term contraceptives, none of which are medically accurate (18). Some others believe that once a woman stops taking oral contraceptive pills, she cannot start taking them again. Regarding Long-Acting Reversible Contraceptives (LARC), some Rohingya women think that the effect is irreversible, and the intrauterine device (IUD) implant cannot be removed before three to five years (ibid). Due to repatriation-related uncertainty, many Rohingya hesitate to take contraceptives, worrying that they won’t have access to SRH services when and if they return to Myanmar (18). Further, due to their status in Bangladesh, many Rohingya also believe that the Bangladesh government insists on the usage of contraceptives in the community to lead to irreversible sterilization (16, p. 204).
Mary, an international midwife and nurse practitioner, also noted, “Many pregnant Rohingya women and adolescent girls prefer home births because they have deep mistrust and fear of going to hospitals and especially outsiders. Some women think that if they deliver in the hospitals, their babies will be killed.” It is important to note that these beliefs among the Rohingya are rooted in the violent experiences in Myanmar, which are also closely associated with the lack of education. The prolonged persecution and discrimination against the Rohingya in Myanmar not only resulted in a lack of educational opportunities but also a lack of knowledge about healthcare and SRH broadly. As Junaid, a local CHW, also reiterated, “For a community that has experienced horrific SGBV and the trauma from that and the living conditions in the camps – in an extended state of precarity, it is natural that they will be suspicious of the medical services.”
There is documented evidence of the Rohingya experiencing violence and discrimination in health facilities in Myanmar (19, 20), which has had severe consequences for maternal and infant mortality and created a persistent distrust of health facilities and services. Some media reports highlight that Rohingya women often fear that medical practitioners in health facilities would either extort money from them or kill their newborn male child (21). Rumours such as babies being sold off in the hospitals and male doctors performing deliveries in the facilities instead of female birth attendants dissuade many Rohingya women and girls from delivering in health facilities (22). Some women also fear humiliation and abuse from their husbands, in-laws, and other family members in retaliation for delivering in mixed-gendered health facilities (23, p. 43).
(c) Shame, stigma, and fear of identity disclosure
Shame and stigma associated with rape and sexual violence and the fear of confidentiality breaches prevent Rohingya women and girls from accessing SRH care. Afreen, a Dhaka-based humanitarian practitioner, shared,
Rape, sexualized violence, and intimate partner violence (IPV) are very common in the camps. It is a taboo and a matter of shame for Rohingya women. Most women, even if their husband or any other man sexually abuses them, would think twice before reporting them or going to a clinic.
In May 2018, the UN published a statement indicating that almost 40,000 Rohingya women in Cox’s Bazar were pregnant, out of which several were a result of the military-perpetrated rape and sexual violence in Myanmar (24). Due to the fear of social ostracization and stigma, many women refused to admit to healthcare workers about their experience of surviving sexual violence or seek appropriate service (25, 26). Between July and December 2019, one in four Rohingya women and girls in Cox’s Bazar attending health centers for screening was a GBV survivor. Between January and October 2020, 94 percent of reported GBV cases were IPV (26). Taylor, an international humanitarian practitioner, in her testimony, highlighted the low reporting rates among Rohingya male survivors of sexual violence in Cox’s Bazar. Since the SRH services are primarily designed to meet the needs of women and girls, there is not only a lack of targeted services but also severe stigma related to male-on-male sexual violence. According to Taylor,
It is not uncommon for men and boys to experience (S)GBV within or outside the camps; however, it is not reported to the extent we hear about SGBV cases against women and girls. We don’t see men and boys targeted through SRH programming or communications. Very few male survivors also come forward because of internalized shame and the fear of being judged by healthcare professionals. There is research and evidence from global studies that show most male survivors of sexual violence do not seek adequate support or services for fear of being perceived as less masculine.
Past studies show that Rohingya men and adolescent boys were survivors of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) in Myanmar (27, Chynoweth, 2018). CRSV against Rohingya men and boys in Myanmar often included forced witnessing of rape of women and girls, genital mutilation, and rape (27). In 2018, the Women’s Refugee Commission published a report indicating that “of 89 percent of the Rohingya men who participated in the study, 33.07 percent personally knew another Rohingya male CRSV survivor from Myanmar” (27, p. 18). Further, the report also stated that the adolescent Rohingya males and youth, particularly those with disabilities and those working as child labourers in Cox’s Bazar, were among the groups vulnerable to SGBV (27 pp. 34–35). While there are services available for women and girls, there are few clinical rape-management services available to Rohingya men and boys in Cox’s Bazar (27).
In Cox’s Bazar, women-only spaces offer post-rape-related care, including mental health counselling and referral pathways, which makes it difficult for men to access those resources (28). Practitioners working in Cox’s Bazar have identified confidentiality breaches in accessing SRH care as a significant concern among women and girls, which inadvertently compromises the readiness to support Rohingya male survivors of SGBV (26). According to Cox’s Bazar-based SRH service providers, the complex interplay of shame, social and cultural stigma, and religious perceptions often prevent survivors from reporting cases within 72 hours, after which evidence of rape is more likely to be lost (10). The Rohingya refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar are overcrowded, offering limited privacy to service seekers. Hence, publicly accessing SRH care and services may not be favourable for Rohingya women and girls, men and boys alike, as it may result in repercussions, including social ostracism, humiliation, and stigma (29). Due to the extreme shame and the sense of feeling disempowered, many men and boys, when seeking care or support, may mask their experience with more “masculine language of torture than rape” (30). This linguistic masking makes it difficult for male sexual violence survivors to effectively seek out support, risking their trauma to be left untreated.
(d) Service delivery challenges and the question of voluntary choices
Service delivery challenges also present barriers to SRH service delivery and utilization in Cox’s Bazar. Inaccessible transportation and poor road infrastructure sometimes cause delays and damage to necessary medical equipment and materials. It also exacerbates physical discomfort among patients who travel to the clinics for emergency obstetric care (23, 31, p. 9). Barua et al. (32) observe that, in most cases, ambulances serve two health clinics/centers. During a high load of emergency cases, healthcare workers struggle to provide timely support. The ambulances also cannot drop off patients back to their homes from the health centers if another patient needs urgent transfer (32, p. 11). Since the camps are in hilly terrain with no concrete roadways, it is also difficult for the ambulances to reach patients on time. (32, p. 12).
Mary also noted that the Bangladesh government prevents humanitarian organizations from building permanent structures inside the camps, and healthcare providers sometimes work in community facilities and shelters made of bamboo. She added, “Since these bamboo shelters are not very durable, it is very difficult to ensure confidentiality in our treatment and maintain patient privacy. It was very hard for us to get a separate room that would be soundproof.” Concerns about confidentiality breaches, especially sensitive issues like pregnancy termination and post-rape care, often deter patients from seeking appropriate care. And as the evidence suggests, persistent infrastructural challenges also compromise the overall quality of care.
Mary further pointed out internal organizational challenges that affected service delivery, mainly how some staff treated the patients. She noted:
When you work in an emergency setting for a long time, you become used to seeing the same things over and over. Some staff could be abrupt, and others could be abrasive when talking to patients; it is their way of dissociating. But there is also a bit of cultural difference. Sometimes when I would hear it in the passing, I would try to intervene. My goal was to start cultural sensitivity training, but unfortunately, I had to leave early.
Discussing the barriers to providing SRH care to refugees in humanitarian settings, Tazinya et al. (33) highlighted that cultural and language differences between medical service providers and patients impacted and “interfered” with the delivery of SRH care (33, p. 3). Similarly, Sidamo et al. (34) also found that an “unsupportive environment” and “unfriendly behaviours and mistreatment” from healthcare providers presented some of the significant barriers to the uptake of SRH care among women and adolescent girls (34, p. 110). The above findings emphasize the need for cultural sensitivity among practitioners, particularly during humanitarian crises. Practitioners need to be mindful of the fact that the patients seeking care are already quite vulnerable and experience various levels of existing sociocultural hierarchies and violence. Negative behaviours reinforce the existing barriers that discourage patients from seeking care.
Mary also discussed the use of family planning methods among refugee women and the role of government policies in facilitating the delivery of those services. She shared,
It was very well known (at that time) that my organization had a difficult relationship with the Camp-in-Charge, and I suspect that it was with other organizations, too. The goals of the government versus the intent of our organization did not necessarily align, and it created different opportunities where there was a bit of moral conflict. We were asked to incentivize birth control (by the camp in charge) with food or something else because they didn’t want population increases in the camps. It had nothing to do with choice or the rights of females; it was strictly about numbers in the camp, and so was encouraging actors to incentivize giving out birth control. What we were seeing was that women were going out getting implants with one actor and then coming to us to have them removed. We did not incentivize birth control and sought informed consent from our patients.
The fact that the Bangladesh government had sought to introduce voluntary sterilization for the Rohingya to put a check on their fertility rate is documented in both international and local news sources (35, 36). According to Bangladeshi journalist Mustafizur Rahman, the government’s concern about the growing rate of population among the Rohingya is a result of the strain on its economic and environmental resources (37). Despite UN agencies acknowledging that the Rohingya crisis needs a global response, there has been a steady decline in funds in recent years, pushing Bangladesh to disproportionately bear the responsibility of almost one million Rohingya (38). Sources highlight that rapid deforestation leading to the construction of make-shift refugee camps has contributed to ecological degradation, negatively impacting the livelihoods of the host community members (39, 40). While there is no denying that incentivizing sterilization is unethical, one also has to be mindful of the mounting pressure on Bangladesh’s resources against the backdrop of rapidly declining international funding.