Why do lawmakers hesitate to confer citizenship on Nepali women’s children? The patriarchal stance is astounding. The systemic issue is intertwined with the nation’s history, geography, and political dynamics, creating a web of challenges for policymakers and citizens – especially women.
Long been a point of contention; the constitution supposed to guarantee rights blatantly discriminates against women with a system ingrained in gender discrimination and political paranoia.
The roots of this disputed citizenship trace back to the Panchayat era. Back then, an anti-Indian agenda was deliberately propagated by the royal family and ruling elites. Constitutional history shows a pattern of exclusionary politics masked as nationalism.
From Padma Shamsher’s Government of Nepal Act in 1948 to the Interim Constitution of 2007, democratic frameworks were consistently undermined by monarchical deception or elite interests. Despite declarations of equality, marginalised communities were never truly centred.
Citizenship laws continue to enforce patriarchal norms, denying women the right to pass on citizenship without proving the “Nepali origin” of the father.
Citizenship, Purity, and Paranoia
Emphasis on bloodline and ancestry as a marker of nationality has led to failure to account for children of single mothers, foreign spouses, or inter-caste and international unions, affecting women from the Madhesi, Tharu, and Muslim communities.
These exclusions uphold a “pure” Nepali identity with specific traits: Hindu, Aryan, male, and Nepali speaking (HAMNS). Citizenship becomes a gatekeeping tool to preserve casteist and patriarchal control.
This racialised tribalism—disguised as nationalism—treats women’s wombs as instruments of ethnic purity. Nationalist anxieties are captured in ‘Fijikaran’ and ‘Sikkimikaran’.
‘Fijikaran’ refers to fears of demographic shifts, as in Fiji, where Indian labourers gained political power. ‘Sikkimikaran’ refers to Sikkim’s 1975 annexation into India.
Such fears have shaped discriminatory clauses: children of male citizens inherit nationality automatically, while children of female citizens face legal hurdles.
The paranoia goes beyond gender—terms like ‘Sikkimikaran’, ‘Bhutanikaran’, and ‘Pakistanisation’ expose elite fears of losing dominance.
But women are consistently viewed as vessels of purity or pollution—not as rights-bearing individuals. The state’s refusal to accept a truly multiethnic, multilingual, and multicultural identity has led to citizenship laws that continue to neglect women.
Even the widely praised Interim Constitution of 2007, hailed to transform the nation into a federal and inclusive republic, failed to deliver significant equality for women. Inclusion was exploited for political ends, not justice.
Legal interpretations were twisted by elites, and the democratisation process prioritised elite power transitions over structural reforms. As a result, women remain second-class citizens, both in practice and in the very texts supposed to protect their rights.
Also, conservatives fear that the open border and close familial ties between Indian border districts could lead to a demographic transition, where Indian migrants in the Madhes could have political influence, potentially turning the country into another Indian state.
British colonial migration policies altered demographics and led to demands for representation. In Sikkim, Nepali-origin politician Kaji Lhendup Dorje’s advocacy for rights led to annexation—his name now symbolises betrayal among nationalists.
Citizenship and the 2015 Constitution
By requiring both parents to be citizens of Nepal for a child to obtain citizenship by descent, the 2015 Constitution exacerbated gender inequality.
These affected children of single mothers or those with foreign or absent fathers—leaving many stateless. Nepali women married to foreign men faced discrimination. Their children could only obtain naturalised citizenship, while children of Nepali men married to foreign women could inherit citizenship by descent.
These children are barred from high office—restrictions not applied to children of Nepali men.
Author Manjushree Thapa argues these laws reduce women to second-class citizens. Panchayat-era nationalism still informs elite fears of Indian encroachment, viewing women’s wombs as tools of state control.
The Never-Ending Amendment Saga
Amendments since 2018 have sparked fierce debate. The 2006 Citizenship Act allowed those born before April 12, 1990, to acquire citizenship by birth—partially addressing statelessness in the Madhes.
But their children couldn’t get citizenship by descent due to lack of legislation. The Home Ministry estimated nearly 400,000 people were left stateless.
A 2018 amendment proposed a seven-year waiting period for foreign women married to Nepali men—opposed by Nepali Congress and Madhesi parties—and was eventually scrapped.
A 2022 bill removed the waiting period but maintained gender disparities. It allowed foreign women to gain citizenship after renouncing original citizenship—but denied this to foreign men married to Nepali women.
In 2023, after Bidya Bhandari refused to address this concern, President Ram Chandra Paudel endorsed the bill. The endorsement led to new protests, with critics accusing Paudel of caving into the Indian influence.
Manisha Koirala, a Nepali Bollywood star, criticised the president’s decision, projecting conservative opposition based on Sikkimikaran and Fijikaran fears, tweeting, “Not difficult to think why he was given this chair. Reminds of Lhendup Dorje.”
Ongoing Realities
Speaking of systemic injustice, a WOREC report from 2023 titled Responsibility of the State to the Victims of Legal Injustice Resulting in Statelessness — lays out several heartbreaking examples.
Ramila, a 21-year-old student from Morang, was denied citizenship because her father held citizenship by birth instead of by descent—even though her mother had citizenship by descent.
Likewise, 18-year-old Abhishek from Sarlahi, who dreamt of working abroad to support his impoverished family, was constantly denied citizenship by local authorities despite having a mother with Nepali citizenship. His father’s status as a citizen by birth simply wasn’t enough to meet the bureaucratic criteria — an issue that grapples youth from marginalised communities.
In Dang, a 49-year-old woman was denied citizenship and health services because her husband abandoned her and never registered their marriage. Her daughter couldn’t get a birth certificate.
In Rukum, Lali’s abusive husband refused to help her and their children with citizenship, saying, “If you don’t need me, why do you need citizenship in my name?” This reliance on male validation shows how deeply patriarchy is embedded—women’s rights hanging on men’s whims.
Anisha from Kapilvastu was denied citizenship because her family believed daughters didn’t need it—they’d marry anyway. Manusi, 19, dropped out of school and became a career after being denied citizenship by paternal relatives fearing property claims.
Even with a supportive maternal side, her absent father’s identity took legal precedence. Radhika from Dhanusha, despite having a Nepali mother, was also denied identity due to male documentation being prioritised.
The Nepal Citizenship Bill
In a recent surprising turn of events on 28 June 2025, the House of Representatives passed the Nepal Citizenship (Second Amendment) Bill, which allows children to acquire citizenship in the name of their Nepali mothers—even if the father is unknown or out of contact. This long-awaited bill, tabled by Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak, was unanimously discussed and supported by the State Order and Good Governance Committee.
The bill also allows both the child and the mother to declare that the father is unknown or not in contact and ensures citizenship can be granted without requiring the father’s name in the official documents. A minor identity card will also be issued to children under 16 if at least one parent is a Nepali citizen.
Moreover, the bill aims to simplify citizenship for children whose parents had acquired Nepali citizenship by birth but faced legal complications, such as when one parent died or was never identified. It amends previous restrictions requiring both parents to be citizens. Even though the National Assembly has not yet approved the bill, it is a major step in guaranteeing equal citizenship rights and resolving long-standing legal issues.
Persistent Gender Discrimination
Before the June 28 amendment, laws were still discriminatory. However, the recent amendment does shift the power paradigm from fathers enabling citizenship rights to mothers alleviating the discriminatory system. But the system still has a strong patriarchal foundation and sees women as dangers to the ethnic and cultural integrity of the country. Will things be better once the National Assembly approves the bill?
“The problem of female sisters in foreign employment giving birth to children abroad and their children becoming stateless when they return has been addressed. The bill tries to solve the complications caused by the legal system of searching for the father of citizenship,” stated Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak.
Once the bill is passed, it should ensure that single mothers no longer face the scrutiny that single fathers have never experienced when seeking citizenship by descent for their children.
This indeed is a huge step in the right direction in addressing gender inequality, revealing biases within the state apparatus. Hopefully, it will eliminate systemic discrimination against women in citizenship laws, which is fuelled by patriarchy and nationalist fears.
Citizenship should not be a medal earned after struggling—it should be a right granted without bias. The laws should not punish children for circumstances beyond their control and deny women autonomy.
Until mothers can independently confer citizenship, these rights will remain conditional and unjust. Only then can Nepal truly call itself a democratic republic that serves all its people.
Sudipa Mahato is a junior editor with Nepal Connect.
