KATHMANDU: As March 5, the voting day for the House of Representatives (HoR), approaches, election enthusiasm has spread across the country.

Yet a closer look at candidacies through a power lens reveals a stark imbalance. Of the 3,400 candidates contesting under the first-past-the-post (FPTP) system, only 395 are women. This disparity raises urgent questions: Where are the women in the 2026 parliamentary elections? Have political parties failed to ensure one-third women candidates as directed by the Election Commission?

Does the Constitution not guarantee 33 percent women’s participation in Parliament? Are political parties accountable for implementing inclusion provisions? And as a signatory to various UN human rights frameworks, is Nepal upholding its commitments?

These questions echo widely across social media and public forums. Conventional explanations for women’s low political participation often cite familiar barriers: women are perceived as physically weak; they lack financial resources and property to fund campaigns; they are discouraged from attending late-night meetings; they are viewed as followers rather than leaders; they are not socially recognized as public figures; and they are considered less competent than men. While these stereotypes have persisted since the advent of democracy, they are symptoms rather than root causes.

The deeper and largely unaddressed structural factor is menstrual discrimination. This form of discrimination shapes and perpetuates the very stereotypes used to exclude menstruators from decision-making spaces. It begins early in life. A comprehensive study of 12,000 respondents conducted by the Global South Coalition for Dignified Menstruation/Radha Paudel Foundation found that regardless of class, caste, religion, education or geography, participants learned about menstrual discrimination between the ages of six and nine—mainly through family members, media and everyday social interactions.

Long before their first menstruation, menstruators internalize messages that position them as unsafe, inferior and powerless. They learn to perceive non-menstruators as superior. This psychological conditioning—rooted in the biological distinction between those who menstruate and those who do not—gradually shapes individual identity, social norms, power relations and state structures.

Simultaneously, non-menstruators internalize a sense of security and superiority because they do not bleed or face menstrual restrictions. Over time, this dual and opposing psychology reinforces patriarchal systems.

Vicious cycle of discrimination

This dynamic forms a vicious cycle of discrimination that affects menstruators emotionally, socially, politically, economically and technologically throughout their lives. Their participation in leadership and decision-making remains nominal, whether in politics, corporate sectors, bureaucracy or other public institutions. The mere 11 percent participation of menstruators in the FPTP system for the upcoming election reflects this imbalance. Yet menstruators exist and excel everywhere—even in space exploration, as illustrated by figures such as Sunita Williams. The issue is not capability, but systemic exclusion.

From the moment their biological sex is identified, menstruators are often treated differently. Through repeated exposure to discriminatory practices and narratives, they may come to believe they are subordinate rather than equal in dignity and worth.

Menstrual blood is socially framed as impure or weak instead of recognized as a natural and life-sustaining biological process. Once menstruation begins, restrictions intensify. Cultural and religious norms often confine menstruators’ mobility, limit their participation in social life and reduce their agency.

Power structures across society—from homes and temples to schools and parliaments—are predominantly controlled by non-menstruators. As a result, menstruators are often prevented from fully developing their potential. Police Report 2025 indicates that 92 percent of violence occurs at home and is perpetrated by non-menstruating family members. Given that menstrual discrimination reportedly exists in over 95 percent of households in Nepal, it is reasonable to link domestic violence to these entrenched power imbalances. Menstrual discrimination sustains unequal authority within families and strengthens patriarchy.

Economic exclusion further illustrates this pattern. Only a small number of menstruators hold land ownership in Nepal. From birth, fathers and brothers may not view daughters and sisters as equal inheritors. These attitudes, embedded in menstrual and gender norms, discourage menstruators from claiming property rights—even when policies guarantee them. Over time, these structural barriers appear normal and unchallenged.

Despite these constraints, menstruators have historically played vital roles in Nepal’s political movements—from the era of Yogmaya to the democratic movements of 1949, 1990, 2006 and recent youth-led mobilizations. Yet their contributions are often relegated to the background, and they are confined to caregiving or supportive roles.

Menstrual discrimination is deeply woven into everyday domestic life. From an early age, children observe that mothers and aunts abstain from kitchen work for several days each month. The kitchen—often the center of household decision-making—functions symbolically like an executive, legislative and judicial space. Exclusion from it signals exclusion from power. Daily choices, such as whose food preferences matter, reinforce hierarchies: the father’s or son’s tastes may dominate over the mother’s or daughter’s. This normalization of diminished agency erodes confidence and participation.

Over time, menstruators may hesitate to join community bodies such as irrigation committees, school management committees or ward committees. Even when they participate, they may lack the confidence to assert their rights. Those who attempt to claim political positions can face stigma, character assassination and resistance. The pervasive, “spider-web-like” nature of menstrual discrimination spans all spheres of life.

Although menstruators constitute over 51 percent of Nepal’s population, they remain marginalized. Public institutions, including political parties, rarely prioritize menstrual education or challenge menstrual norms.

Menstrual blood continues to be stigmatized rather than acknowledged as natural and essential to life. Ironically, non-menstruators owe their existence to menstruation, yet historically have maintained power by fostering silence and fear around it.

Some argue that indigenous communities do not practice menstrual discrimination. Yet representation of indigenous menstruators in the FPTP system remains limited. Others claim that Dalit menstruators are unaffected because caste-based exclusion already dominates their lives. However, the National Demographic Health Survey (2022) reports that 62–76 percent of visible and invisible forms of menstrual discrimination persist across all provinces. Practices such as stigma, silence, restrictions and deprivation of services are widespread.

Menstruation predates caste, religion and political theory. The continuity of humanity depends on it. Nevertheless, its social and political implications remain largely unacknowledged. Even global human rights discourse since 1948 has rarely framed menstrual discrimination as a violation of rights. Discussions on gender-based violence often overlook its foundational role. Many academic analyses reduce menstruation to hygiene management rather than examining its central function in constructing power hierarchies.

Today, many Dalit menstruators continue to endure undignified and exclusionary conditions within their homes. Addressing this requires more than policy quotas. Stronger legal frameworks, educational reforms and social awareness initiatives are essential to dismantle centuries-old discrimination.

To achieve proportional representation and meaningful inclusion, dignified menstruation must be placed at the center of equality efforts. Political and non-political actors—from households to state institutions—must confront the structural roots of exclusion.

Without addressing menstrual discrimination, commitments to gender equality, inclusion and democratic participation will remain incomplete.

Only by acknowledging and transforming this deeply embedded system can Nepal move toward genuine equality—from the kitchen to Parliament, and beyond.