In April 2022, at a major university in Karachi, a woman from Balochistan detonated herself, her act shocked many. Since insurgency in Balochistan had long been viewed through the prism of male guerrillas, tribal networks, and mountain hideouts, that was the first publicly confirmed female suicide bomber there.
The movement, since that time, appears to be a calculated one as militants are now enlisting women, at times educated professionals, and at times psychologically manipulated or blackmailed, using them to launch high-profile attacks.
This strategic development has an embarrassing similarity to the policy earlier adopted by the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam in Sri Lanka. Over the decades, the LTTE institutionalised the involvement of women beyond support functions, including as fighters, propagandists, and most infamously as suicide bombers through its wing called the Black Tigers.
The analogies are graphic and frightening.
In the past, tribal communities in Balochistan promoted strict norms that viewed women as honourable and modest. However, groups like the Baloch Liberation Army and the Baloch Liberation Front are actively weaponising this specific set of norms. They hire women to bypass security checks and gain a tactical advantage due to gender biases present in society.
In the LTTE, the women militants who were recruited were mostly traumatised by state violence. They were not only volunteering but also being trained and immersed in all aspects of insurgent activities, such as fighting, intelligence, and propaganda.
Balochistan seems to be following the same route. Females with various social backgrounds are being initiated into militancy. The insurgency is taking a new shape by exploiting social fragmentation and gender.
The deployment of women fighters is now a common strategy in insurgent warfare for various reasons. To begin with, women are preferred as a tactic of surprise in conservative societies where they are less likely to be questioned at checkpoints, transit centres, or other security-sensitive locations. This was a key element of the LTTE’s suicide bombings and is now used by Baloch militant organisations.
Second, there is a significant propaganda and psychological weight attached to female militants. A seemingly normal and educated woman who defies societal norms creates shock and extensive media coverage. This amplifies the insurgents’ message. The effect was visible with the LTTE’s Black Tigers and is seen again in recent female attackers in Balochistan.
In Balochistan, it is evident that women are increasingly institutionalised in recruitment, logistics, suicide operations, propaganda work, and intelligence networks
Third, recruitment often targets disenfranchised or disillusioned young people, especially women, who feel wronged or desire fame. Initially, the LTTE recruited women with a history of communal persecution. In Balochistan today, many recruits come from educated backgrounds. They are not driven by economic need, but by feelings of marginalisation and a desire to gain recognition in the international arena.
The current development of female militancy in Balochistan must raise serious concerns when considered alongside the historical experience of the LTTE. When women become part of an insurgency, their participation often evolves into systematic and institutionalised involvement.
In the LTTE, women were no longer fringe players. They became core to operations. Similarly, in Balochistan, it is evident that women are increasingly institutionalised in recruitment, logistics, suicide operations, propaganda work, and intelligence networks.
Women drawn into militancy are often victims of psychological manipulation, coercion, social isolation, and blackmail. In Balochistan, former female recruits have described the use of fake social media relationships, threats to honour, and emotional blackmail.
This pattern echoes the narratives of former female LTTE members, for whom the allure of resistance often concealed traumatic personal histories and coercion.
Traditional security structures are designed around male combatants. Traditional social constructs are also not shaped to suspect, prevent, or rehabilitate female militants.
A further dimension is the rise of a narrative of martyrdom and gendered sacrifice. This reshapes insurgency into something symbolic, turning violence at the fringes into a fabricated discourse of collective resistance. The LTTE used female martyrdom for propaganda, and Baloch militants are now employing the same tactic.
In this context, policymakers, human rights activists, and civil society actors must understand the gendered aspect of insurgency and take action before the situation escalates.
To begin with, gender-sensitive counter-radicalisation and prevention networks should be formed. Security and social welfare agencies should work with community leaders, women’s organisations, educators, and local NGOs to detect and assist individuals, especially women, who are at risk of radicalisation or coercion.
Second, there is a need for rehabilitation and reintegration programmes for reformed female militants. Many of these women may be stigmatised, face honour-based violence, or be rejected by their families.
Lastly, the propaganda structures and online recruitment platforms used by militants should be exposed and countered.
For those who care about justice, human rights, and long-term stability in Balochistan, ignoring this gendered turn is no longer an option. Rather than condemn only the bombs, the machinery that makes them possible must be confronted.