What is a woman worth?

The compensation of workers in the Savar factory collapse points out a strange contradiction in Bangladeshi society. The women injured and killed in the factory are considered worthy of compensation – in other words, they have a positive net worth. But the same women may be regarded as having a negative net worth when they marry. Why is that?

New York Times economic columnist Adam Davidson has described Bangladesh in terms of its "T-shirt phase," (Economic Recovery, Made in Bangladesh?) an era of cheap goods produced in factories by "large populations of farmers with few options." The industrialisation of Bangladesh is changing the country, just as it has changed so many nations. Inevitably, the changes in the "T-shirt phase" are uneven and difficult. At the moment, they present us with a contradiction about what a woman is worth.

When Rana Plaza collapsed, public discussions quickly started around compensation to injured workers and families of the dead. Many people emphasised that the workers were poor, and that ultra-low wages had been part of why they felt pushed to risk entering the building on that fateful day. (Pope Francis, the global head of the Catholic Church, called this "slave labor.") The special vulnerability of the poor is part of the reason compensation is so important.

Yet the female workers in factories come from poor families in rural areas. For them, one part of marriage culture is dowry (joutuk), the payment the bride's family makes to the family of the groom on the occasion of a marriage. This is a strange reversal of the post-disaster political situation.

Dowry is part of many marriage cultures worldwide. But Bangladesh is a bit unique. In some countries, such as Afghanistan, the practice has been symmetrical: the bride gives a dowry to the groom's family and the groom gives a bride-price to the bride's family. This system connects families through a mutual show of good faith and may allow the families to enjoy better income equality. In other places the groom may give a bride-price while the bride brings no significant financial offering. Both methods suggest that the bride has a real value that must be respected.

Here in Bangladesh, the approach is different. The bride's family gives away their daughter in marriage, and also pays the husband. The groom often pays little or nothing back to them. This is rather unusual. It suggests that a woman has a negative value to her family and to the new husband, as someone must be paid to take her away. The assessment of the woman's value seems to leave out a lot of her capacity for work, whether in the household or in the labour market, and does not value her basic humanity. It seems to reflect an attitude that undervalues females.

Bangladesh's dowry system has clear negative outcomes. When a dowry is not paid (or paid sufficiently), acid violence and other abuses sometimes result. (In 2010, there were 3,413 cases of dowry-related violence reported to police, according to Amnesty International.) And because dowry cost increases with the women's age, some poor families feel compelled to marry off their daughter in her teens. These brides can lose their chances to complete school and may get pregnant at a dangerously early age.

The negative monetary valuation of women seems to be reflected in how husbands can treat their wives, too. Violence against women is often accepted in marriages – not only when there is a deficient dowry, but always. Studies of married Bangladeshi women show that between one-third and two-thirds are physically abused in their marriage. Some families even calmly accept that their daughter will be beaten by her husband or in-laws.

In light of Rana Plaza, this begins to look rather strange. If a new husband takes your daughter away permanently in marriage, then you owe the husband. But if Sohel Rana took your daughter away permanently in death, then he owes you. If a husband injures a wife, then this is considered normal and acceptable. But if Sohel Rana injured that same woman, it is an outrageous crime worthy of vigorous protest. Why is a husband allowed to do these things to a woman while Sohel Rana is sent to prison and hated for them?

One might argue that it is a matter of proportion, as in Rana Plaza people were hurt so severely. But even workers who were just scared by being in the collapsing factory can get some compensation. We often don't help women who have been subjected to even severe and repeated assaults from husbands and in-laws. (That is scary, too.) So the proportionality argument does not make sense. On the world stage, where Bangladesh must use its moral authority to argue for worker's rights, many people will not accept it. As Bangladesh works to bring justice to workers who are women, we must also uphold justice for women who are workers.

It is right to punish Sohel Rana. It is right to demand justice for these workers. Bangladeshis of every religious and political belief believe that compensation is required for the injured and killed factory workers. It is not OK to treat working women as slaves, or to subject them to violent injury. It is unacceptable to deprive their families of their presence.

But we must also state the obvious: it is not OK to do that to your wife, either. They should not be treated as valueless or subjected to physical attacks. It does not make sense for in-laws to show up and demand profit from a bride's parents in a manner that even Sohel Rana can't get away with.

Bangladesh's "T-shirt phase" won't last forever. Soon the country will be a different place and a better one. There is a way to get there faster and easier, not through hard labour but through adding just one word to our vocabulary. From now on, when someone is asking for joutuk, let's call that person a Rana.

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M. Sophia Newman is an American writer living in Dhaka.