I defended Rep. Zamora when she was subjected to misogynistic remarks in the cyberspace for her gender expression—the way she talks, her mannerisms, etc. When Rep. Zamora introduced the proposed legislation to combat violence against women in politics, the initial public reaction from many quarters was supportive.
On the surface, the rationale seems unassailable: female politicians, candidates, and appointees face distinct misogynistic harassment, threats, and electoral violence that undermine democratic representation. Protecting women in public leadership is a necessary goal.
However, a closer look at the bill reveals a fundamental flaw in its framework: exclusivity.
By narrowing the legislative lens strictly to women operating within formal state institutions and political parties, the proposed bill creates a dangerous hierarchy of protection. It shields those who already hold state power while leaving out the very women who face the most severe violence and systemic persecution: Women Human Rights Defenders (WHRDs).
The duty-bearer paradox
Women in politics—whether elected officials, cabinet members, or party leaders—occupy a unique place in the legal ecosystem. They are duty-bearers. They hold access to state machinery, institutional legal aid, security apparatuses, and public platforms. While they certainly face gender-based harassment, their position within the state apparatus affords them avenues of recourse that ordinary citizens simply do not possess.
In contrast, grassroots WHRDs—indigenous leaders fighting land grabs, labor organizers, environmental activists, and journalists exposing corruption—are non-state actors operating on the front lines. They do not hold state authority; instead, they exist to hold state and corporate power accountable. Because of this, they are overwhelmingly the target of political violence, often committed or tolerated by the very state actors tasked with protecting them.
An elite hierarchy of rights
When a government creates specialized legal protections for politicians while omitting community defenders, it risks engaging in elite self-preservation.
Why should a female lawmaker receive statutory protections against online harassment or political intimidation, while an indigenous woman defending her ancestral land against illegal logging faces red-tagging, arbitrary detention and extrajudicial threats without any equivalent legal shield?
Both women are engaged in political life. Both are defending rights and shaping society. Yet, by defining “politics” purely as electoral or party activity, current policy proposals reduce democratic engagement to holding office. This overlooks the fundamental truth that democratic defense happens every day in community centers, factory floors, and protest lines.
If we are serious about ending political violence against women, we must reject legislative frameworks that protect only those at the top. True political protection must start with those at the greatest risk. (davaotoday.com)
