Three months ago, the people of the country were filled with joy and erupted in celebration as our women's football team lifted the SAFF Championship trophy for the second consecutive time. Monika Chakma and Ritu Porna Chakma's goals sealed a historic 2-1 victory against Nepal, proving that Bangladeshi women can compete and win on the international stage.

The team became national heroes, inspiring a new generation of girls to dream big.

And now, in the same country, a mob of madrasa students and extremists stormed a football field in Joypurhat, tore down fences, and forced a women's match to be cancelled. Their reason? They claimed that women playing football is "anti-Islamic." The attack was brazen and live-streamed on Facebook, with the perpetrators openly threatening further violence.

And what did the authorities do? Nothing, so far.

This is bigger than football. This is about power. These mobs know they can get away with it because they always do. They have burned Hindu homes, vandalised shrines, assaulted teachers, and lynched people over blasphemy claims—yet they walk free. The script never changes. The government watches, law enforcement stands by, and justice is never served.

In this country, when opposition protesters take to the streets, the government moves quickly. When minorities take to the streets or when teachers protest for fair salaries, they are dispersed with batons and water cannons. When journalists criticise, they are harassed, arrested, or worse.

But when extremists attack women's rights, religious minorities, or bar celebrities from attending inauguration programmes, suddenly, the government loses its voice. No strong condemnation, no arrests, no real action—just silence. This silence is complicated. When you refuse to act, you are choosing to stand with the oppressors.

What's likely is that the interim government knows that cracking down on extremist mobs could cost them politically. So, they take the easy way out—ignoring the problem, hoping it will disappear, or fade away with another issue.

But it won't. The more you let mobs dictate the rules, the more power they seize. They have learned that violence works, that the state will look away, and that they can rewrite the rules of society by force.

This is not governance; it is called surrender!

What happened in Joypurhat is not about religion—it is about control. These extremists do not represent Islam; they represent fear, misogyny, and a desperate need to dominate.

And every time we let them win, we push Bangladesh further into darkness.

To the women of Bangladesh—We stand with you. To every woman in this country—know that you are not alone. Whether on the football field, in classrooms, in offices, or on the streets, your place in this country is non-negotiable. You do not need anyone's permission to play, to achieve, or to exist. The mob does not decide your future.

But this is not just your fight—it is ours. If we stay silent now, it will not stop with women's sports. Tomorrow, it will be our books, our music, our voices. The extremists will keep taking more until there is nothing left of the Bangladesh we dreamed of—an inclusive, pluralistic nation where everyone, regardless of gender, faith, or belief, has the right to live freely.

The government must act. Every single person involved in this attack must be arrested and prosecuted. Every political leader, every civil society group, every sports body, and every ordinary citizen must push back harder. We cannot allow mobs to dictate what women can or cannot do.

Because if we do, we send a terrifying message to young girls: your dreams don't matter, and your rights can be erased if enough men object. Is that the Bangladesh we want?

We cannot claim progress while allowing this level of misogyny and extremism to progress. The choice is simple—either we stand with our female athletes, or we let mobs and fear dictate our future.

So, dear interim government, which side are you on?