Since 1994 Alyaksandr Lukashenka has held an unyielding grip on Belarus, often referring to himself as a “women’s president”. This characterisation is not without purpose; he strategically appeals to specific demographics within the electorate – women being a large part of them – that find themselves in vulnerable positions and reliant on state social support. One might wonder why he still seeks voter loyalty when elections are routinely manipulated and international observers repeatedly report ballot stuffing and significant violations in vote counting. The reality is that genuine support from even a fraction of the electorate simplifies his task. It allows for less money and administrative resources to be spent on falsification and for mitigating the impacts of dishonest elections. The mass protests of 2020 arose precisely because the scale and transparency of the fraud were too striking to ignore.

What has been the outcome of these protests for Lukashenka? He was compelled to turn to Russia for assistance, consequently losing a portion of his personal independence and that of the nation. The ongoing repression within the country, four years after the election, indicates that Lukashenka does not feel entirely secure. According to Henadz Korshunau, a senior expert at the Center for New Ideas and a sociologist, a new wave of repression began in Belarus at the end of 2023 and is expected to persist at least until the end of the 2025 electoral campaign, when new presidential elections will take place. However, both opposition leaders and western politicians refuse to regard these forthcoming elections as legitimate.

Kenneth Yalowitz, the former US ambassador to Belarus, labelled the January 2025 elections as yet another farce, while opposition leader Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya insisted that the repressions must cease, political prisoners be released, and all citizens be allowed to vote regardless of their country of residence. Furthermore, she emphasised that elections must occur under independent observation and adhere to the standards of the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE). She also asserted that Belarus must guarantee freedom of assembly and equal access to the media. “If these requirements are not met by the regime, we consider what will transpire in 2025 to be an imitation of a democratic process.”

All this raises an intriguing question: what role have Tsikhanouskaya and other women played in Lukashenka’s political career and in Belarusian politics at large? Is Lukashenka justified in calling himself a “women’s president”? The answers to these questions reveal the intricate dynamics of power and representation in Belarus, highlighting the paradox of a regime that claims support from those it simultaneously suppresses.

Victory in elections by women’s hands

For 25 years, women have reportedly supported Lukashenka more consistently than men. This loyalty cannot be attributed to a natural predisposition to favour authoritarian leaders or populist rhetoric. Instead, it stems partly from gender socialisation within a patriarchal society. From a young age, girls are encouraged to recognise the positive and to overlook instances of deception and manipulation. Politics has traditionally been viewed as a “man’s domain” despite women comprising a third of MPs in the House of Representatives. Lukashenka has aptly utilised statistics to boost Belarus’s rankings in various international indices on equality. Nevertheless, the mere presence of women in parliament holds little value if that body is entirely under the president’s control and consistently upholds his initiatives.

According to the independent Institute of Socio-Economic and Political Studies, women tend to hold a more optimistic view of the economic model in Belarus. For instance, at the height of the economic crisis that began in 2011, more than 40 per cent of women believed that the worst was behind them, while only 28 per cent of men felt the same. This inclination towards optimism has often led women to overlook the harsh realities of their circumstances and to place their faith in the “strong hands” of the president, whose competence they were taught to accept without question. The structure of the electoral system itself has further facilitated women’s role in securing Lukashenka’s victories. Voting takes place predominantly in schools, where most members of the electoral commissions are women employed in these institutions.

In Belarus, schools are state-funded, meaning that the salaries of female staff, including teachers, are drawn from the public budget. These salaries are typically significantly lower than market averages, rendering these workers, particularly teachers, vulnerable. Many live paycheque to paycheque, lack savings, and cannot afford to lose their jobs, especially with the possibility of a poor reference. Those higher up in the hierarchical structure exploit this vulnerability, coercing schoolteachers to falsify election results or obstruct independent monitors from accessing polling stations.

One schoolteacher anonymously recounted her experience of refusing to sign a fraudulent vote tally. The school principal, serving as the head of the electoral commission, responded with threats: “She screamed that I should not just be fired, but executed. She said I did not understand what I was talking about and that it was my duty to do as she commanded.” This troubling dynamic illustrates how Lukashenka’s regime has manipulated societal structures and gender roles to maintain power, revealing a complex interplay between authority, vulnerability and complicity in electoral processes.

“Our constitution is not written for women”

In the months leading up to the 2020 elections, Lukashenka remarked that the “constitution is not written for women”, sparking significant public outcry. The business owner Ksenija Fiodarava filed a complaint with the Central Election Commission, referencing Article 32 of the constitution, which asserts gender equality in Belarus. The politician Volha Kavalkova also responded: “Such statements reveal a man who, bearing the significant powers granted by the constitution, has failed to address the issues facing our country. Clearly, it does not matter whether a man or a woman is in power.” Former presidential candidate Tatsiana Karatkevich added that only a weak and dependent person could make such claims.

This was not the first time Lukashenka made derogatory remarks about women. Operating within a deeply patriarchal paradigm, he does not shy away from sexist comments or from neglecting to amend discriminatory laws. In Belarus, there is still a list of professions prohibited for women, many of which are physically demanding yet well-paid. Conversely, physically arduous jobs with minimal pay – such as hospital orderlies – are typically viewed as traditionally female roles. Moreover, certain professions are restricted for women under the pretext of protecting reproductive health. Lukashenka attempts to position himself as a patriarch who knows what is best for women and the nation as a whole. In his worldview, women should remain under male guardianship, which includes shielding them from specific professions and the “burden” of leadership, such as the presidency.

This discriminatory paternalism is prevalent in Belarus not only in the workplace but also in reproductive rights and freedoms, which are constrained by the state at various levels. For instance, doctors may refuse to perform abortion procedures citing personal reasons, leading to at least one city – Lahoisk – having no available abortion services. Additionally, one week in every October is designated as a “week without abortions” in celebration of Mother’s Day.

But state control extends beyond those seeking abortions to women who are eager to have children. A married woman must obtain written consent from her husband to undergo in vitro fertilisation (IVF). Elective caesarean sections are not performed upon request. According to the “Radziny” initiative, from 2016 to 2019, only 24 per cent of women giving birth in hospitals gave their informed consent to the medical procedures that were performed on them during labour, while the remaining 76 per cent experienced procedures without their consent or awareness. Obtaining more recent data is impossible due to the political crisis in the country and the widespread crackdown on NGOs after 2020.

The state monitors women’s reproductive health not only during pregnancy or when seeking to conceive but also during unexpected circumstances. For example, women are required to undergo gynaecological examinations to obtain medical certificates for driver’s licences. Medical commissions for jobs involving food or children also necessitate a visit to a gynaecologist and an examination in a gynaecological chair. Yet, despite the prevalence of obstetric violence and discriminatory laws, the societal response has been muted, with little noticeable protest. Women remain perceived by the authorities as structural units intended to enhance the country’s demographic situation rather than political subjects.

Women remain perceived by the authorities as structural units intended to enhance the country’s demographic situation rather than political subjects.

A desperate housewife?

For 24 years leading up to the fateful 2020 elections, Belarus’s electoral process was controlled by a woman – Lidziya Yarmoshyna, a tough and authoritative figure. It was her responsibility to ensure that the final, official election results would please Lukashenka. Women who succeed in patriarchal systems often oppose the idea of others having the same opportunities. Despite her successful career within the power structure, Yarmoshyna believed politics was a male domain. In 2010, during her first late-night press conference after the presidential elections, when tens of thousands of protesters had already been brutally dispersed by the security forces, she remarked that women who came out to protest “had nothing to do”. “They should have stayed home, cooked borscht, instead of walking around the squares. A woman should be ashamed to participate in such events.”

Yarmoshyna’s longstanding loyalty to Lukashenka and the vertical power structure she helped build, where many women ensured his repeated victories, dulled his vigilance. So, when an ordinary housewife decided to run for president in 2020, Lukashenka underestimated the danger and allowed her to join the race. Another woman, Tatsiana Karatkevich, had already run for president before in 2015. Those elections passed quietly, with no significant protests, which once again lulled Lukashenka into a false sense of security. He is often called a political animal because of his instinctive ability to navigate tricky situations to retain power. But in 2020, during the height of the first wave of the COVID-19 pandemic, his sense of smell failed him. The most popular opposition candidates, Siarhey Tsikhanousky and Viktar Babaryka, were arrested, while another prominent contender, Valery Tsepkala, was denied registration. However, Lukashenka did register Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya – a woman who was unknown and who ran in place of her arrested husband.

“Are you planning to collect signatures and actually run a presidential campaign, or are you registering as a sparring partner?” asked Yarmoshyna, then the head of the Central Election Commission.

“I’ve dreamed of becoming president my whole life,” replied Tsikhanouskaya.

The feminine face of protest

By the time Lukashenka realized he had underestimated women, it was already too late. Three electoral campaigns merged and a famous female trio emerged – Tsikhanouskaya, Mariia Kalesnikava, and Veranika Tsepkala. Their main rally in a park near Bangalore Square in Minsk gathered 63,000 people, according to the Viasna Human Rights Centre.

Before this, women in Belarus had often remained in the shadows when it came to political struggle and political activism. They were involved, and there were many of them, but the most prominent and well-known figures in these processes were always men. Women’s leadership in society was not particularly supported, and outspoken women in journalism and activism were often threatened with having their children taken away. In 2017, for example, police visited the parents of journalist Larysa Shcherakova, warning them that her ten-year-old son would be taken by social services if she did not stop working as a journalist. According to Volha Karach, the leader of the civil campaign Our House, there were around 15 cases between 2006 and 2013 where the authorities used such methods to pressure politically active women.

The gender researchers Iryna Salamatsina and Viktoriya Schmidt wrote that, until 2020, women were relegated to the role of “the legs of the opposition”. But in 2020, a separate mass women’s protest emerged. It began with an action near the Kamarouka Market in central Minsk on August 12th, three days after the elections, when about 200 women, dressed in white, formed a “solidarity chain”. In the first few days after the elections, the security forces exhibited unprecedented brutality – people were tortured in police stations, vehicles, and isolation units. Over 30 people were crammed into four-person cells and denied food and water. People were beaten, suffocated, sexually assaulted, and threatened with execution.

This was not the first women’s protest in Belarus, but it was the first one of such magnitude. In the past, women whose children were sentenced to long prison terms under harsh drug laws formed the Mothers 328 organisation, demanding leniency in drug legislation and a review of their children’s cases. However, this was a small group of protesters, and their demands were relatively personal. In 2020, women protested for the whole country, not just for their families. One man, whom I spoke with after being taken to a hastily organised detention camp on the first night after the election, told me that the first women’s protest saved his life. He said that at first, the treatment of detainees was extremely harsh, and he feared he would never leave, but when the guards learned of the women’s protest, they became much softer. For several months after the election, a general protest march took place in Minsk every Sunday, while every Saturday featured a women’s march. Protesters used behaviours stereotypically seen as feminine to protect themselves, and it often worked. For example, security forces were thrown off balance when crowds of women began to scream loudly.

In 2020, women protested for the whole country, not just for their families.

For a long time, the authorities tried to identify the organisers of these protests. They detained female journalists and activists, threatening long prison sentences and the removal of their children. In autumn 2020, the journalist Yauheniya Douhaya was almost charged with inciting mass unrest, with the authorities citing a Radio Free Europe stream she had shared on her Telegram channel as evidence. “They tell me, ‘Do you understand you’ll be sent away for 15 years?’ and then added, ‘Your daughter won’t see you for a long time. I don’t know how your fate will unfold. Maybe it will be fine, maybe not.””

In November 2021, the activist Volha Harbunova, who had spent many years running a shelter for women and children affected by domestic violence, was detained on suspicion of organising women’s marches. While she was in pretrial detention, censors blocked almost all her letters – only one letter from her daughter arrived and that was only because the girl pretended it was written by a friend of her mother. However, the censors did let through a letter in which the ex-husband of one of Volha’s former clients had threatened to kill her daughter.

A war with women

In October 2021, one year and two months after the elections, when the active phase of the protests had long been suppressed, Lukashenka claimed that he was not at war with women. By that time, more than a hundred female political prisoners were being held in detention centres and prison colonies, some of whom were mothers of multiple children. Even in prison, the pressure on mothers continues. This issue is rarely discussed publicly, and to avoid causing further harm, I will not name specific individuals, but the fact must be known: some female political prisoners are stripped of their parental rights, and they are informed of this only after the fact. In some families, older children become guardians of their younger siblings, and while their mother remains imprisoned due to political reasons, they are raising their brothers and sisters.

Conditions in women’s prisons in Belarus are harsher than those that house men. There is no clear explanation for this, but human rights defenders suggest that prison staff fear an uprising among men, which is why they offer them more freedom. In Women’s Colony Number Four in the city of Homel, where the vast majority of female political prisoners are held, they are given little free time. The administration is highly focused on ensuring that the internal grounds look perfect, so during the winter, women clear snow and ice from the roads to ensure that only bare asphalt remains. After it rains, they wipe up the water from the puddles with cloths, and in spring, they clean the water fountain with toothbrushes.

Almost all political prisoners spend some time in a punishment cell (SHIZO), where during the day they can only walk around and sit on a stool. At night they sleep on a cot leaning against the wall. In violation of the law, they are not provided with a mattress, blanket, pillow and bed linen. Books, extra clothing, and food are not allowed in the SHIZO. In the summer, the heat is unbearable, while in winter, the cold is extreme, making women sick. However, they are often denied medical care. Many women who have served their sentences and been released report that they will never be able to conceive or carry a child due to the health problems they suffered in prison. As additional punishment, prisoners are deprived of the legal right to make phone calls, receive visitors, or get parcels. The former political prisoner Asya Bulybenka shared that a prison officer came to her before New Year’s Eve and asked what she wanted for the holiday. She said she wanted a long visit with her family, but she was denied both the visit and the phone call because she refused to write a petition for pardon to Lukashenka.

Furthermore, in Women’s Colony Number Four, there is a punishment cage, reminiscent of medieval torture. Located between the residential and industrial zones (in the women’s colony, prisoners sew clothes for law enforcement and, in 2022, they also made stretchers for the Russian military), the cage is a real metal enclosure, two by one-and-a-half metres in size. Prisoners are often placed in the cage during both summer and winter, in extreme temperatures that make the experience even more unbearable. Detainees spend from one to four hours in the cage.

The Belarusian Union of Women, which claims 162,000 members, shows no interest in these women or in the violations of their rights, nor does it support the families of political prisoners. The union’s website states that its activities are aimed at defending the rights and legitimate interests of women, families and children; ensuring the respectable position of women in society; and enhancing their role in the public, political, socio-economic, and cultural life of the country. In reality, however, it is an organization focused on supporting the current regime. The union’s current leader, Volha Chamadanava, formerly worked as a press secretary for the ministry of internal affairs. This autumn, she announced that she would run for president in the 2025 elections, but later withdrew her candidacy.

“We understand perfectly well that no one but our President Lukashenka can today provide the security we are experiencing, the security of our country, and, of course, the steady development of our state. We are the team of our president,” declared the head of the Belarusian Union of Women.

This article was first published in New Eastern Europe. It is republished here with permission.