Introduction
“Just like our previous celebrations, I am always proud to say that the Bangsamoro as an identity, as a people, and now as a political entity, would not be possible without the sacrifices and contributions of our Bangsamoro women.” Bangsamoro Chief Minister Murad Ebrahim, March 30, 2022Footnote 1
In 2024, Murad Ebrahim, former leader of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), served as Chief Minister of the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM).Footnote 2 The MILF, a rebel group that fought for decades for autonomy in Mindanao, transitioned into the United Bangsamoro Justice Party (UBJP) following the 2014 Comprehensive Agreement on the Bangsamoro (CAB). As the above quote illustrates, the Chief Minister knows well that the labor performed by women and girls is the foundation on which both states and non-state armed groups are built (Elias and Rai Reference Elias and Rai2019; Enloe Reference Enloe1983; Hedström Reference Hedström2021; Thomas and Wood Reference Thomas and Wood2018). Yet, not a single woman from the Bangsamoro Islamic Women Auxiliary Brigade (BIWAB), the all-female military unit of the MILF, was included in the new party structure.
BIWAB’s exclusion contrasts with other cases of rebel-to-party transformations. Women’s wings in Myanmar and in El Salvador were incorporated into party structures, while Cumann na mBan in Northern Ireland rejected the transition and continued militant advocacy (Matfess and Loken Reference Matfess and Loken2024). These divergent trajectories raise two questions: What explains these different outcomes? And more specifically, how do women ex-combatants navigate rebel-to-party transformations?
Prior research has shown that women’s wartime roles, especially the use of violence, affect their chances of postwar political inclusion (Brannon Reference Brannon2023b) and that the absence of transformative feminist politics during conflict limits women’s political gains after peace (Brannon Reference Brannon2023a). Yet these accounts tend to focus on elite inclusion or structural explanations, overlooking the role of unit-level dynamics and the everyday practices of women ex-combatants themselves.
To advance research on the gender dynamics of rebel-to-party transformations, we develop an analytical framework grounded in social reproduction feminism (SRF). Building on Hedström’s concept of militarized social reproduction (MSR), and drawing on Matfess and Loken’s (Reference Matfess and Loken2024: 8) distinction between gender transgressive or gender normative women’s wings, our framework theorizes how wartime reproductive labor can shape women ex-combatants’ postwar political trajectories. Social reproduction refers to the unpaid care, emotional, and community labor that sustains individuals and social systems (Fraser Reference Fraser2014; Rai, Hoskyns, and Thomas Reference Rai, Hoskyns and Thomas2014). Hedström (Reference Hedström2022) has introduced the concept of militarized social reproduction (MSR) to describe how women’s everyday labor sustains militarization processes. This labor, which is physical, emotional, and symbolic, ensures combatants’ sustenance, facilitates recruitment and retention, and strengthens group cohesion through activities such as military conscription, frontline support, care, and marriage. While foundational to wartime operations, this labor is often treated as a natural extension of women’s traditional roles (Hedström Reference Hedström2022: 59). We posit that MSR can constrain agency through the mechanism of socialization (Checkel Reference Checkel2017), which can reinforce gender norms that marginalize women from formal politics. At the same time, MSR can enable postwar mobilization through the mechanism of organizational memory rooted in the co-performance of reproductive labor.
We argue that two conditions shape how MSR influences women’s navigation strategies in the postwar period: (1) Types of activities in women’s units, reflected in whether women’s activities during war were gender-normative (e.g., logistics, caregiving, fundraising) or gender-transgressive (e.g., military leadership, diplomatic missions) (Matfess and Loken Reference Matfess and Loken2024); (2) Unit cohesion, ranging from tightly organized to loosely affiliated formations. These factors help explain not only whether women are included in formal politics but also how they mobilize informally, resist exclusion, or repurpose wartime labor for postwar influence.
We explore this framework through the case study of BIWABFootnote 3 in the Philippines. Drawing on 30 semi-structured interviews and extensive primary and secondary sources, we show that although BIWAB was a military-trained unit that, in form, transgressed traditional gender roles, the MILF’s Islamist ideology and the predominance of gender-normative activities performed by women ultimately rendered BIWAB’s contributions largely invisible. BIWAB was excluded from the peace negotiations, postwar implementation bodies, and political party formation. Yet formal exclusion did not mean the lack of agency. BIWAB was characterized by a strong command and control structure and after demobilization, its members leveraged these ties to form a civil society organization that advocates for women ex-combatants and engages in informal political influence.
Theoretically, our paper contributes to the study of nonstate actors transition into formal and informal politics (Giezendanner and Ingelaere Reference Giezendanner and Ingelaere2022; Söderberg Kovacs and Hatz Reference Söderberg Kovacs and Hatz2016; Zaks Reference Zaks2024) by including a feminist social reproduction lens. Relatedly, we also speak to the literature on everyday peacemaking and especially its gendered dynamics (Blomqvist, Olivius, and Hedström Reference Blomqvist, Olivius and Hedström2021, Reference Blomqvist, Olivius and Hedström2021; Elias and Rai Reference Elias and Rai2019; Hedström Reference Hedström2021; Mac Ginty and Richmond Reference Mac Ginty and Richmond2013). Empirically, our study adds to the growing body of literature focusing on the gender dimensions of the Bangsamoro peace process (Cardeño, Olivius, and Åkebo Reference Cardeño, Olivius and Åkebo2023; Duque-Salazar, Forsberg, and Olsson Reference Duque-Salazar, Forsberg and Olsson2022).
The article proceeds as follows. Section 1 situates our research within the literature on rebel-to-party transformations and women’s contributions to armed rebellion, and explains how a social reproduction lens can contribute to these debates. Section 2 introduces our analytical framework, which conceptualizes militarized social reproduction (MSR) as both a constraint on women’s postwar political agency, through the mechanism of socialization, and a potential resource for collective mobilization, through the mechanism of organizational memory. We theorize that the effects of MSR are conditioned by the type of activity that women’s units perform and the degree of unit cohesion. Section 3 presents our qualitative research design based on 30 semistructured interviews, supported by document analysis and metadata review. To contextualize our analysis, section 4 offers background on gender dynamics in Mindanao. Section 5 presents the empirical analysis. We conclude by reflecting on the implications for research and peacebuilding practice.
While our findings are based on a single case, they carry broader implications. For researchers, the paper shows that social reproductive labor—when militarized and collectivized—can shape women’s postwar political agency in ways that dominant rebel-to-party transformation frameworks overlook. It underscores the need to examine unit-level dynamics to better understand variation in women’s postconflict trajectories. For practitioners, the findings suggest that failing to recognize gendered forms of labor performed during wartime risks reinforcing gendered exclusions and missing opportunities for more inclusive postwar politics.
What We Know (and Do Not) About Rebel-to-Party Transformations and Women Combatants
Rebel-to-Party Transformations
Rebel-to-party transformations, the process by which armed groups transition into legitimate political entities, provide channels for non-violent interest articulation and political engagement, which in turn can contribute to sustainable peace and democratization (Hartzell and Hoddie Reference Hartzell and Hoddie2007; Ishiyama Reference Ishiyama2016; Manning and Smith Reference Manning and Smith2016; Marshall and Ishiyama Reference Marshall and Ishiyama2016). Rebel-to-party transformations are common: Söderberg Kovacs and Hatz (Reference Söderberg Kovacs and Hatz2016) found that between 1975 and 2011, 93 rebel groups transformed into political parties, 33 of them through peace agreements. This literature, grounded primarily in comparative politics and conflict studies, focuses on factors like external support, electoral incentives, institutional adaptation (Ishiyama Reference Ishiyama2016; Söderberg Kovacs and Hatz Reference Söderberg Kovacs and Hatz2016; Marshall Reference Marshall2019; Manning and Smith Reference Manning and Smith2016), and provides longitudinal insights into the electoral performance of former rebel groups that turned into political parties (Manning, Smith, and Tuncel Reference Manning, Smith and Tuncel2024).
One of the key insights of this research is that war-time internal characteristics of rebel groups matter for their postconflict political transformation (Sindre Reference Sindre2019; Söderström Reference Söderström2016; Zaks Reference Zaks2025). Research has emphasized how organizational characteristics, such as hierarchical leadership (Lyons Reference Lyons2016) or wartime governance capacity (Berdal and Ucko Reference Berdal and Ucko2010), shape a rebel group’s ability to transition into a political party and to mobilize its constituency. However, this literature has largely treated rebel groups as homogenous entities, overlooking how internal gender hierarchies and labor divisions influence postconflict political opportunities of ex-combatants. There are a few recent exceptions to this general trend: Brannon showed that the election of women members of armed groups depend on their roles within groups and their use of violence during conflict (Brannon Reference Brannon2023b) and that the absence of feminist change during conflict can lead to the limited and strategic inclusion of women ex-combatants in politics after the war (Brannon Reference Brannon2023a). Case study research demonstrated variation in how women members of armed groups experience political transitions: women ex-combatants in El Salvador (from the FMLN rebel group) and Colombia (from the M-19 rebel group) have formed their own political organizations (Ortega Reference Ortega and Shekhawat2015: 233). Another study showed that upon demobilization, former female combatants from the FARC-EP in Colombia developed their own feminist politics, “insurgent feminism,” to advance their political aims (Avoine Reference Avoine2024). Except for these studies, there is a notable lack of focus on the relationship between the gendered nature of armed groups and their post-conflict political transformations. Ultimately, this has left a gap in our understanding of who is included—or excluded—when armed actors become political parties.
Women and Women’s Wings in Armed Groups
The relative lack of attention to gender in rebel-to-party transformation literature is surprising, given that a large body of research has demonstrated that women’s involvement in non-state groups is widespread and consequential: Loken and Matfess (Reference Loken and Matfess2024) show that 63% out of 372 rebel groups between 1946 and 2015 involved women, and nearly half of these included women in leadership roles. Women participate directly as combatants and indirectly in roles such as cooks, nurses, smugglers, or informants—whether voluntarily or through coercion (Darden, Henshaw, and Szekely Reference Darden, Henshaw and Szekely2019; Enloe Reference Enloe1983). Feminist scholarship has expanded our understanding of the gendered dynamics of conflict by exploring women’s experiences as victims (Baines Reference Baines2014), agents (Nieto-Valdivieso Reference Nieto-Valdivieso2017), or both (Kreft and Schulz, Reference Kreft and Schulz2022), often calling for intersectional analysis (Giri Reference Giri2021; Hauge Reference Hauge2020; Yadav Reference Yadav2021). Others emphasize women’s contributions to rebel governance and social reproduction through care, education, and symbolic roles (Blomqvist, Olivius, and Hedström Reference Blomqvist, Olivius and Hedström2021; Elias and Rai Reference Elias and Rai2019; Matfess Reference Matfess2023). Quantitative scholarship further highlight women’s impact on both war and peace: women combatants’ can make civil wars longer (Giri and Haer Reference Giri and Haer2021), voluntary female combatants are linked to higher rates of rebel victory (Braithwaite and Ruiz, Reference Braithwaite and Ruiz2018); their presence increases the likelihood of negotiation initiation (Brannon et al., Reference Brannon, Thomas and DiBlasi2024); and they contribute to more gender-inclusive peace agreements (Thomas, Reference Thomas2024). Still, in DDR and peacebuilding processes, women members of armed groups are routinely sidelined (Bouta et al., Reference Bouta, Frerks and Bannon2004; Farr, Reference Farr2003; Flisi, Reference Flisi2016; Hauge, Reference Hauge2020; Henshaw, Reference Henshaw2020; MacKenzie, Reference MacKenzie2009; Shekhawat and Pathak, Reference Shekhawat, Pathak and Seema2015; Vastapuu, Reference Vastapuu2021, Reference Vastapuu2025).
While these studies have significantly advanced our understanding of women’s roles in conflict, most focus on individual experiences, with relatively limited attention to how collective organization within women’s wings shapes postwar political trajectories. Women wings are prevalent across rebel groups: For example, the South Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) formed dedicated women’s battalions such as the Ketiba Banat (Pinaud Reference Pinaud2015); in Mozambique FRELIMO established the Destacamento Feminino (DF) (Katto Reference Katto2014); in Sri Lanka the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) included the Sothiya Brigade, an all-female combat unit (Azmi, Reference Azmi2015). While case studies offer valuable insights into women’s wings, systematic research has been limited. The Women’s Activities in Armed Rebellion (WAAR) dataset marks a significant step forward, showing that at least 38% of 370 armed groups had an all-female unit, mostly in non-combatant roles (Matfess and Loken, Reference Matfess and Loken2024). The WAAR dataset shows that women’s wings have distinct tasks, purposes, and autonomy, and their relationship to the rebel leadership or to other organizations can range from cooperative to conflictual.
Despite this emerging work, two key gaps remain: first, most studies focus on women’s wings during conflict rather than in postconflict transitions; and second, we know little about how collective experiences in women’s wings shape political agency after demobilization (Matfess and Loken Reference Matfess and Loken2024; Ortega Reference Ortega and Shekhawat2015; Dudouet and Almeida, Reference Dudouet and Almeida2022; Steenbergen, Reference Steenbergen2021). Our study addresses these gaps by examining the militarized social reproductive practices within women’s wings and how these practices influence women’s ability to navigate rebel-to-party transformations. We argue that analyzing the institutional life of women’s wings through the lens of social reproduction can deepen our understanding of gendered power dynamics in rebel transitions and help explain variation in postwar political navigation strategies.
Analytical Framework
To answer our research question—how women ex-combatants navigate rebel-to-party transformations—we draw on insights from social reproduction feminism (SRF) (Federici, Reference Federici2004; Ferguson et al., Reference Ferguson, Bhattacharya, Farris, Skeggs, Farris, Toscano and Bromberg2021; Fraser, Reference Fraser2014; Hedström, Reference Hedström2022). SRF emerged from Marxist and social feminist political thought to examine the roles that both paid and unpaid labor play in reproducing individuals, families, and social systems (Rai et al., Reference Rai, Hoskyns and Thomas2014; Fraser, Reference Fraser2014). A central insight is that women’s work in caregiving, domestic maintenance, and emotional support, often unpaid and confined to the private sphere, is foundational to sustaining life and society, while also enabling the extraction of surplus value in capitalist economies (Bakker, Reference Bakker2007; Federici, Reference Federici2004; Backer and Cairns, Reference Backer and Cairns2021).
While often confined to the domestic sphere in peacetime, these practices are reconfigured in war, where they help sustain rebel organizations. In armed groups, these practices include preparing food, nursing the wounded, organizing education campaigns, providing emotional support, managing household and camp logistics, recruiting members, and symbolically representing the group as its moral backbone (Enloe Reference Enloe1983; Hedström Reference Hedström2022; Rai et al. Reference Rai, Hoskyns and Thomas2014; Ortega Reference Ortega and Shekhawat2015). Hedström (Reference Hedström2022) conceptualizes this as militarized social reproduction (MSR): the integration of care and maintenance workFootnote 4 into the logic and organization of armed struggle (Hedström Reference Hedström2022). MSR, while foundational, is often rendered invisible in DDR and peacebuilding processes, which prioritize combat roles over support work (MacKenzie Reference MacKenzie2009; Henshaw Reference Henshaw2020). A focus on reproductive practices aligns well with organizational sociology perspectives on armed rebellion (Parkinson Reference Parkinson2013; Parkinson and Zaks Reference Parkinson and Zaks2018; Zaks Reference Zaks2025) which have demonstrated that it is not only ‘fighters’ who enable rebel groups to function, but a range of logistical and support networks.
Importantly, social reproduction is not passive or apolitical. Feminist theorists have shown that the household—and by extension, any reproductive sphere—can be a site of struggle, where women contest the terms of their labor and exercise agency (Backer and Cairns Reference Backer and Cairns2021, p. 1096; Basham and Catignani Reference Basham and Catignani2018). In conflict settings, this agency can manifest in strategic silences, subversive caregiving, or collective organization (Blomqvist et al. Reference Blomqvist, Olivius and Hedström2021; Kreft Reference Kreft2019).
Based on these insights we posit that militarized social reproduction can both constrain and enable postconflict political agency: it is frequently devalued as women’s “natural” work by the rebel group’s leadership, but it can also generate solidarity and collective identity, especially if it is performed in cohesive collective spaces, such as in women’s wings (Avoine and Tillman Reference Avoine, Tillman and Shekhawat2015; Ortega Reference Ortega and Shekhawat2015; Dudouet and Almeida Reference Dudouet and Almeida2022). This duality is at the center of our framework.Footnote 5 We theorize that MSR shapes women’s navigation strategies, i.e., the ways they adapt to, resist, or transform rebel-to-party transition processes, through two key mechanisms and scope conditions:
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(1) Types of activities: If women units performed predominantly gender normative activities (e.g., caregiving or logistics) within the rebel group, their labor is more easily rendered invisible or seen as apolitical. Women units that perform gender-transgressive activities (e.g., combat, leadership) tend to be more visible and politicized, which can open pathways to political participation—but also trigger stigma or backlash. The mechanism that connects MSR to tasks and navigation strategies is socialization (Checkel Reference Checkel2017), i.e., “the process through which actors adopt the norms and rules of a given community, which reshape interests and identities” (Checkel Reference Checkel2017, 592). Repeated performance of gender-normative tasks can socialize women into roles that align with traditional expectations, which may lead them and others to view their labor as apolitical or supportive rather than political. This can limit how women themselves and others perceive their post-conflict political opportunities. Conversely, women engaged in combat or command roles may develop leadership identities. However, such socialization can also provoke stigma or backlash in post-war contexts.
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(2) Unit cohesion: High levels of internal cohesion, reflected in formal leadership structures, shared norms, and sustained interaction, can enable women’s wings to maintain collective identity and mobilize after war. In contrast, loosely organized or fragmented units often lack the organizational continuity needed to assert political claims postconflict. The mechanism that links MSR to cohesion and navigation strategies is organizational memory generated through the co-performance of MSR practices. When women carry out reproductive tasks together over extended periods, they may develop trust, shared purpose, and informal infrastructure for cooperation. This can enable postwar collective action, such as forming civil society organizations or advocacy networks. In contrast, fragmented or loosely organized units may lack this continuity, making it harder to sustain shared identity or mobilize after war.
These conditions shape how women’s wings interpret and act upon rebel-to-party transformation processes. Navigation strategies may include informal political mobilization, creation of civil society organizations, advocacy coalitions, or continued militant resistance, inclusion into the formal political structures. Thus, navigation is not a binary of success/failure or inclusion/exclusion, but a continuum of adaptive practices shaped by wartime experiences.
We apply this framework to the case of the Bangsamoro Islamic Women Auxiliary Brigade (BIWAB), a unit characterized by gender normative activities and high levels of internal cohesion, to trace how MSR practices constrained formal inclusion but enabled informal political influence through sustained collective action.
Research Design
Following Matfess and Loken (Reference Matfess and Loken2024: 2), we define women’s wing as an all-female unit which “include non-combatant groups who carry weapons, conduct intelligence operations, and provide other support to fighters, but also women’s military battalions, political groups, service providing organizations, and mass associations.” The WAAR dataset identifies women’s wings as either combat/front-line/military or noncombatant/auxiliary referring to the wings primary function. By “noncombatant women’s wings” the authors refer to instances when women are organized in all-female groups that engage in support, political, social, or otherwise auxiliary work; combat wings are all female unites that are trained to fight together and/or deployed in combat, as well as politically oriented organization for female fighters (ibid). In this article, we refer to BIWAB as a military unit, although there is contradictory evidence about their involvement in combat (see our section in the empirical analysis). This is not unheard of: In Mozambique, Frelimo organized women into Destacamento Feminino (DF), which trained female members militarily but apparently did not send them into combat and similar dynamics were observed in case of the Ketiba Banat (Matfess and Loken, Reference Matfess and Loken2024, p. 4, 10). We decided to refer to BIWAB as military unit, because they received military training, learned to handle weapons, had their own military uniforms, they were included in the demobilization program, and, most importantly, because our interviewees considered themselves to be part of a military unit.
The aim of our paper is theory-building. We purposefully selected the BIWAB as a case study because of the institutionalized nature of this women-only unit within the MILF and because the MILF has transformed itself into an official political party. Our data comes from 30 semi-structured interviews including BIWAB members, individuals involved in the negotiation and implementation of the 2014 peace agreement, women’s groups, and civil society members. 21 interviews out of the 30 were conducted in-person in two rounds in 2023 and 2024 in Manila, Cotabato City, Davao City, and nine were conducted online. Interviews lasted for 40-80 minutes. Informed consent was obtained from all participants either in written form or orally recorded. We include our interview guides and provide a detailed overview of interview metadata in the Appendix. To protect the identity of our participants, all interviews are anonymous.
As previous feminist work demonstrated, women combatants are not a homogenous group, but their war-time and postconflict experiences are mediated by their intersectional identities (Giri Reference Giri2021). Importantly, BIWAB women’s experiences are diverse and to a large extent shaped by their class, family relations, age, geographical location, and clan affiliation. Our interviewees were from the cities of Cotabato and Davao. Due to security and logistical constraints, we were not able to interview BIWAB women who resided in the island provinces or in more rural areas, hence our research results should be interpreted with these limitations in mind.
We applied a purposive selection strategy and the snow-ball method to identify interviewees which is considered to be the appropriate approach in postconflict situation where trust is low (Cohen and Arieli Reference Cohen and Arieli2011). The corresponding author had pre-existing contacts with individuals involved in the peace negotiation process, while the second author had been working with BIWAB members for several years. The combination of an outsider (corresponding author) and insider (second author) perspective enabled us to merge different views and to balance bias stemming from each perspective. We complemented our interview data with primary sources such as: public reports released by the Third Party Monitoring Team (TPMT) on the implementation of the CABFootnote 6; the official text of the CAB and it’s Annexes, official speeches by BARMM politicians; and secondary sources such as: local BARMM news sites, Philippine publications of the conflict, NGO reports, academic work.
After transcription and translation from Maguindanao and Tagalog to English in case of interviews with BIWAB members, interviews were analyzed in NViVo. We established nine codes before the interviews, related to perceptions and knowledge about the BIWAB among local and international stakeholders, perceptions about how the decommissioning impacted BIWAB, and their current status both as a unit and as individuals. When it comes to BIWAB, we focused on three broad phases of their social reproductive practices: preconflict experiences, roles during the struggle, and their current practices, both at the unit and individual levels. As we progressed with the analysis, we inductively established new codes by focusing on recurrent themes mentioned by interviewees.
During our coding, we placed a special emphasis on integrating and interpreting interview metadata (Fuji Reference Fuji2017). Our sources, to a varying degree, were characterized by silences. For example, in case of primary and secondary sources, especially the ones that were published before the conclusion of CAB, BIWAB members were rarely mentioned or discussed in publications about the MILF (see, for example, McKenna Reference McKenna1998).Footnote 7 There are only a few research articles on BIWAB specifically (Cardeño, Olivius, and Åkebo Reference Cardeño, Olivius and Åkebo2023; Jopson Reference Jopson2021), yet there was a marked increase in policy reports on the BIWAB since at least 2016 (Hall Rosalie and Joanna Pares Reference Hall Rosalie, Pares, Jenny and Senarathna2015; Lundström and Marhaban Reference Lundström and Marhaban2016; Nisa Ul Haqq Fi Bangsamoro 2016; OXFAM Pilipinas 2021). Second, out of 42 requests, 12 organizations/individuals did not respond to us or declined to be interviewed. While such rejection and nonresponse rate in interview-based research is not unusual, engaging with this empirical reality is important. Several potential interviewees who declined to participate said that they were not entirely sure what BIWAB did and where it was placed in the MILF’s organizational hierarchy. We found that international organizations and their representatives often did not establish a relationship with BIWAB members which meant that their views were forgotten or assumed to “follow the party line” of the MILF, so no additional effort was needed to reach out to them.Footnote 8 Importantly, we do not, by default, equate key stakeholders’ silences as a strategic choice and BIWAB women’s silence as powerlessness (Blomqvist, Olivius, and Hedström Reference Blomqvist, Olivius and Hedström2021; Schweiger and Tomiak Reference Schweiger and Tomiak2022, 634). Such binary categorization risks to marginalize female combatants and deny their agency in using silences as resistance. Rather, our key empirical takeaway from emphasizing these silences is that they further strengthen the conceptual utility of social reproductive practices because they show that women’s gendered labor can remain unnoticed and unaccounted for across a wide range of platforms and amongst a wide range of stakeholders. The lack of empirical accounts on the BIWAB shows that women’s history of the Bangsamoro struggle still needs to be written.
Gendered Peace and Conflict in Bangsamoro
Mindanao is an island in the Southern Philippines, and it is home to Christian settlers, Muslims, and Indigenous People (Lumad) and 13 ethnolinguistic groups.Footnote 9 The conflict between the Government of the Philippines and Muslim separatists originates from the violent conversion attempts by the Catholic Church during the Spanish colonial period. This was followed by the land appropriation and resettling of Christian Filipinos to Mindanao by the US colonial administration and later, by the independent Philippine state (after 1946). These policies have drastically altered the demographics of Mindanao and by the end of the 1970s, Muslims became a minority (Dwyer and Cagoco-Guiam Reference Dwyer and Cagoco-Guiam2012, 6). Land appropriation and decades of neglect resulted in the Muslim struggle for self-determination in Mindanao based on the idea of a joint Moro nation, the Bangsa Moro (Söderberg Kovacs, Höglund, and Jiménez Reference Söderberg Kovacs, Höglund and Jiménez2021, 61). Estimates suggest that the conflict in Mindanao claimed 120,000 deaths and displaced approximately 3.5 million people (Judd and Schiavo-Campo Reference Judd and Schiavo-Campo2005), but the real numbers are likely to be higher. While several accounts of the conflict portray it as a religious one (i.e., between the Islamist MILF and the Catholic government), Mindanao’s diverse and complex ethnolinguistic groups and their varying levels of political influence are crucial factors that shape local conflict dynamics (ID 182, January 30, 2024). There are different types of conflicts in the region, state-based ones between the government and armed groups (vertical conflict), rido conflicts which take place between powerful political clans and families who often have their own private militaries (horizontal conflicts), and violent land disputes between the various communities (such as Moros and Lumad groups). Interlinked with these are cattle raids, forced marriage, child marriage, kidnapping for ransom, and domestic violence.
Throughout Mindanao’s history, several groups took up arms to challenge the government. The MILF split from the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF)Footnote 10 in 1977. The MILF quickly became the dominant armed group in Mindanao and continued to fight the government for four decades. The MILF’s political ideology is Islamist. Religion has traditionally provided a glue to unite the diverse ethno-linguistic groups and tribes of Mindanao, yet it also contributed to the fragmentation within armed groups (Podder Reference Podder2012).
During the conflict, the MILF was engaged in extensive administrative, judiciary, security, and socioeconomic service provision (Sen Reference Sen2024, 745). It established political committees in the liberated areas or “camps” in which judicial proceedings were governed by Sharia law and community policing was provided by the MILF, alongside the establishment of religious schools, farming areas, and even a drug rehabilitation center (ibid.). Community has traditionally been a foundational aspect of the Moro struggle and civilians under MILF control were included in decision-making process through extensive consultations (Jensen Reference Jensen2023; Sen Reference Sen2024, 745). Due to the community-based nature of the struggle, it has been difficult to draw the line between combatants and civilians or to provide exact estimates of the number of MILF members. Majority of MILF members were not full-time combatants but went to fight when called and then returned to their communities (Lingga et al. Reference Lingga, Radam, Guiamalon, Makalingkang, Ampuan, Pigkawlan and Bra2018:17). As such, MILF membership was characterized as being community based, intimate, and voluntary (Angeles Reference Angeles1996; Jensen Reference Jensen2023; Özerdem and Podder Reference Özerdem and Podder2012; Özerdem, Podder, and Quitoriano Reference Özerdem, Podder and Quitoriano2010). According to a 2018 needs and skills assessment, 93% of the combatants in the Bangsamoro Islamic Armed Forces (BIAF)—the military wing of the MILF—are men, most of whom are described as “poor and marginalized” (Lingga et al. Reference Lingga, Radam, Guiamalon, Makalingkang, Ampuan, Pigkawlan and Bra2018:12).
Due to the lack of health services and infrastructure in the region, women in the BIAF filled in important gaps left by the state and provided medical support for combatants (ibid). The MILF had several women-only subunits, including the Social Welfare Committee (SWC) composed of civilian women, the medical unit, the Women’s Sector of the MILF’s Political Committee, and a military-only unit, the BIWAB (Kubota and Nami, Reference Kubota and Nami2016).
In 2014, after several ceasefire agreements, 32 rounds of exploratory talks, and the 2012 Framework Agreement on the Bangsamoro (FAB), the MILF and the government signed the Comprehensive Peace Agreement on the Bangsamoro (CAB). The CAB has two main tracks, the political and the normalization tracks which are closely intertwined. While most peace agreement implementation processes have prioritized security issues, the CAB is characterized by the implementation of provisions that relate to the political track and not to the security issues (Joshi, Reference Joshi2022, p. 12; TPMT, 2023). Politically, the CAB paved the way for the 2019 establishment of the BARMM through the passing of the Bangsamoro Organic Law (BOL). The BARMM is led by the Bangsamoro Transitional Authority (BTA) majority of whom are appointed by the MILF. The BTA’s chief minister is Murad Ebrahim and the cabinet consists mainly of former MILF central committee members. The MILF successfully transformed itself into a political party, the United Bangsamoro Justice Party (UBJP) (Söderberg Kovacs, Höglund, and Jiménez Reference Söderberg Kovacs, Höglund and Jiménez2021; Xu and Bertrand Reference Xu and Bertrand2024). The rebel-to-party transformation process’s next stage is envisioned to be concluded in 2025 with elections for a permanent regional authority.
The DDR component of the peace agreement is detailed in the Annex on Normalization which entails the decommissioningFootnote 11 of MILF weapons and members, the socioeconomic development of six MILF camps, policing, dismantling of private armed groups, the repositioning of the Philippine Armed Forces, and transitional justice and reconciliation measures. The normalization annex provides for a “phased” decommissioning, i.e., the laying down of MILF weapons is parallel and commensurate to the implementation of all the other agreements which constitute the CAB. The parties agreed to decommission a total of 40,000 MILF members and 7,200 of their weapons (to be concluded by 2025). While peace has broadly been held since the signing of the CAB, the decommissioning and the provision of socio-economic benefits are lagging behind schedule which can potentially antagonize ex-combatants. Furthermore, low-intensity rido conflicts continue to displace tens of thousands living in the BARMM (Fernandez, Baraguir, and Bryant Reference Fernandez, Baraguir and Bryant2022; International Crisis Group 2024).
While the Philippines is one of the most gender progressive countries in Asia, the BARMM remains one of the most unequal places for women, due to the lack of adequate social and health services (Jopson Reference Jopson2021, 39; Mahinay et al. Reference Mahinay, Tato, Traje, Romo and Sarmiento2022). Gender is constitutive of and contributes to the various conflicts in Mindanao (Cagoco-Guiam Reference Cagoco-Guiam2013; Davies, True, and Tanyag Reference Davies, True and Tanyag2016; Jopson Reference Jopson2023; Kubota and Nami Reference Kubota and Nami2016; Mahinay et al. Reference Mahinay, Tato, Traje, Romo and Sarmiento2022). Rido conflicts are often linked to alleged violations of women’s honor, which has to be protected by men (Kubota and Nami Reference Kubota and Nami2016, 25). Sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) directed at women and girls belonging to minority groups and internally displaced populations remains severely underreported and has not been discussed during the peace process (Davies, True, and Tanyag Reference Davies, True and Tanyag2016, 463). Political and economic matters are male and clan dominated, and patriarchy is sustained by men and women alike (Mahinay et al. Reference Mahinay, Tato, Traje, Romo and Sarmiento2022). A recent survey involving more than 2000 individuals in the BARMM showed that both men and women to a large extent believe that men should be leaders both in public and private spheres (Nagel, Allen, and Baekgaard Reference Nagel, Allen and Baekgaard2023, 21–23).Footnote 12
Decades of conflict heavily restricted mobility in a gender specific way. Families were displaced (often multiple times) and women were forced to engage in wage labor in new localities, to become Overseas Filipino Workers, or were trafficked to send remittances to their families (Cagoco-Guiam Reference Cagoco-Guiam2013). As a response to threats from attacks from rido conflicts or to avoid being recruited by armed groups, men often severely limited their mobility and remained at home (Kubota and Nami Reference Kubota and Nami2016, 25). As a consequence, women had to undertake new economic roles such as selling goods on the market. The changes in men’s breadwinning status were found to cause severe psychological distress. This had important consequences on how men perceived their masculinity in relation to the hegemonic masculinity ideal which places the role of the “provider” and that of “protector” at the heart of being a man (Bagaporo and Papadelos Reference Bagaporo and Papadelos2023). At the same time, women’s economic empowerment did not decrease their reproductive work at home, many becoming severely traumatized and depleted (Dwyer and Cagoco-Guiam Reference Dwyer and Cagoco-Guiam2012, 10).
Against this backdrop, the following section examines how BIWAB members navigated the MILF’s political transition and how their reproductive labor shaped both exclusion from formal politics and informal avenues of influence.
Empirical Analysis
BIWAB’s Social Reproductive Practices
In what follows, we examine the social reproductive practices carried out by BIWAB members and how they perceived their roles.
Previous research has shown that Islamist groups are generally less likely than leftist groups to recruit women, and when they do, they often reinforce traditional gender roles by assigning women primarily caregiving functions (Wood and Thomas, Reference Wood and Thomas2017). The MILF aligns with this pattern: although it established a military unit composed of women, both the group’s broader gender ideology and BIWAB’s prevalent activities can be characterized as gender-normative—that is, they did not challenge traditional notions of femininity (Matfess and Loken, Reference Matfess and Loken2024). Consistent with this, neither our interviews nor our review of relevant publications suggests that BIWAB members aimed to challenge prevailing gender norms in Mindanao, which are closely tied to Islamic teachings.
BIWAB was integrated into the military chain of command of the MILF. It was founded in 1984 and composed of 35 battalions whose main function was to provide medical and other care for MILF members and engage in combat when called to do so (van Hoof et al. Reference van Hoof2021). Interviewees estimated that BIWAB consisted of some 20-35,000 women (ID 175, 2023), but the real number is unknown. All of our interviewees joined BIWAB voluntarily, as one of them put it, “I was not recruited but even begged to my superior to get me in” (ID 188, 2024). All BIWAB women we interviewed had family members (father, husbands, uncles, sons) who were part of the MILF. Serving in the MILF was considered to be a family matter. As one BIWAB member explained: “Both of us (husband and wife) were mandated in the organization (MILF) hence we were both determined to do our job no matter what it takes” (ID 195, 204). Despite the emotional and physical costs, participating in the struggle was emotionally fulfilling and politically important for women. As one of them recalled: “I felt like joining the BIWAB will give me some sort of justice. I knew many stories about women being abused by the military and in the BIWAB I learnt how to protect myself. BIWAB means security for me” (ID 192, 2024).
After joining BIWAB, women combatants went through a military training, learned to handle weapons, and were engaged in organized care work, such as nursing, cooking, and recruitment. Importantly, several men were involved in these activities too. Women also received training in Islamic rules and were required to disseminate Islamic teachings in their communities. These activities were aimed at teaching community members how to “be modest and raise a child according to Islam. We were of course also aimed at recruiting more people to our ranks” (ID 189, 2024; ID 195, 2024). These activities illustrate how gender normative tasks were important in the socialization process both within the BIWAB and in the communities.
Some studies argue that BIWAB members did not engage in combat (Cardeño, Olivius, and Åkebo Reference Cardeño, Olivius and Åkebo2023, 9), other work suggest that “70-80% of the women who joined BIWAB were engaged in combat full-time, while the remaining 20-30% were engaged in other roles” (OXFAM Pilipinas 2021, 4). We are not able to conclude this debate, but some of our interviewees confirmed that they participated in combat, while others remarked that they were a reserve force and were only allowed on the battlefield if the MILF leadership deemed that it was necessary. Previous reports on the MILF indicate that there was a strict segregation of sexes in the camps and that rules as to how to interact with female members were included in training modules for new recruits (Rush et al. Reference Rush, Bellal, Bongard and Heffes2022, 35).
While being in the movement, BIWAB members perceived their social reproductive work to be critical. One interviewee summarized it as: “I felt fulfilled during the struggle when we were preparing food for the Mujahideen. I feel like I’ve been doing a lot for my fellow Bangsamoro. We cooked and served for 80-100 men every day and we prepared their ratios for the battlefield. It was a daily routine. We were also serving as medics and treated the wounded, every day. We obliged ourselves to give a monthly contribution to sustain our medical needs. Sometimes, we allocated some of that money to buy ammunition and to sew ammunition pouches. Every person was obliged to donate the cost of at least five bullets fostering our sense of self-reliance” (ID 188, 2024). This quote illustrates that gender-normative tasks involved in militarized social reproduction—cooking, caring, and fundraising for the armed movement—were an important site for women to exercise their agency and to contribute to the Bangsamoro cause.
However, being a combatant was not a full-time or paid activity. While being part of BIWAB, women were engaged in income-generating activities such as vegetable farming, dress-making, operating a sari-sari shop, or working for local CSOs. This meant that they performed wage work, domestic work, and sustained the MILF through their participation in BIWAB. As one BIWAB member summarized, “My husband has long been a MILF member. I was not only taking care of our children, but I provided for his financial and logistical needs. When he is in the camp, I manage our small shop” (ID 191, 2024). BIWAB women were cognizant of the gendered nature of their social reproductive practices and the uneven burden it places on them, especially when it comes to family duties and leaving children behind during times of mobilization. One of the interviewees explained that while both she and her husband were part of the MILF, “(…) but for me as mother it was ten times more difficult to leave our children whenever we were on a mission. Although I knew that my mother was there to take care of my children, but still, the sufferings of a mother’s is beyond comparison.” (ID 194, 2024).
BIWAB was the institutionalized manifestation of military support work undertaken by women for the armed struggle, yet as with many other women-only units, their work remained largely hidden from the government and later on from external stakeholders in the negotiations. By ‘hidden’ we mean that BIWAB women were neither considered as ‘real’ combatants who pose a security threat, nor were their specific interests and needs considered in detail in the peace agreement.Footnote 13 BIWAB women were not involved in the peace negotiations, but according to an interviewee who was part of the process, securing the participation of BIWAB members was challenging because the MILF leadership did not want to facilitate it and gender issues were deemed as a sensitive topic during negotiations (ID 196, 2024). External actors involved in implementation of the peace agreement whom we have interviewed did not know much about BIWAB, while local implementing actors had very different views. Answers to the question “who the BIWAB are?” were ranging from “only being a support force” (ID 180, 2024) to “being the foundation of whatever success the MILF has achieved” (ID 183, 2024), illustrating the different perspectives with regard to the value of social reproductive work. However, the relative secretive nature of the unit was known to and embraced by BIWAB members. It was also strategically utilized by the military leadership. As one interviewee put it, “BIWAB women were not subject to arrests by the military and this enabled them to pass through checkpoints, supply critical intelligence” (ID 183, 2024). As a former combatant confirmed it “On top of being a mother, I was also supplying intelligence, because the commanders thought that only women can do this task easily even it was risky” (ID 191, 2024).
Women Ex-Combatants Navigation Strategy in the Rebel-to-Party Transformation
In this section, we show that although BIWAB was excluded from both the peace talks and the rebel-to-party transformation, organizational memory and the strong bonds formed within the unit allowed former members to sustain collective political mobilization by transforming BIWAB into a civil society organization. This shift provided the group with relative independence from MILF’s military leadership and enabled them to advocate for the specific concerns of female combatants.
Throughout the CAB negotiation process women were included directly in the negotiating panelsFootnote 14 and indirectly through the extensive work of various women’s civil society organizations (Chang et al. Reference Chang, Alam, Warren, Bhatia and Turkington2015; Duque-Salazar, Forsberg, and Olsson Reference Duque-Salazar, Forsberg and Olsson2022; Santiago et al. Reference Santiago, Pasqual, Valji and Kenny2015). The CAB is hailed as one of the most gender-inclusive peace agreements with eight provisions pertaining to women, accounting for their political participation, protection, and better livelihood, and the Bangsamoro Organic Law (BOL) included 23 new gender provisions (Duque-Salazar, Forsberg, and Olsson Reference Duque-Salazar, Forsberg and Olsson2022, 317; Jopson Reference Jopson2023). The CAB created a revenue stream to fund the development plan with a specific gender focus. As part of the BARMM, the Bangsamoro Women’s Commission (BWC) was established to coordinate and oversee the implementation of gender provisions. A significant achievement, especially considering the Islamist governance structure of the BARMM, is that women have reserved seats in the Parliament and at least one woman must be appointed to the Bangsamoro Cabinet (Bangsamoro Information Office 2022). However, as Davies and her colleagues (Reference Davies, True and Tanyag2016) have pointed it out, “the fragility of the peace process lies not only in the agreement itself, but also in the selectivity (emphasis original) of who contributes to it and who benefits from it.” (Davies et al. Reference Davies, True and Tanyag2016: 470). In fact, a closer look at the agreement and which women participated reveals that all CSOs engaged and involved in the peace process were led and/or funded by middle-class urban (civilian) women (Chang et al. Reference Chang, Alam, Warren, Bhatia and Turkington2015:109).
While BIWAB members were not formally present at the peace negotiations, they exercised their agency in the rebel-to-party transition, primarily through information dissemination. As one of them explained, “Yes, we were involved in the negotiations through educating our people. Making them aware of the status of the peace process and the status of negotiations” The interviewee rationalized her absence from formal talks by emphasizing that men had the required educational background to conduct these talks. As she put it, “But as for direct involvement as member of the panel for example, we couldn’t get into that position because the main reason is education, we are not that capable.” (ID 195 2024).
The Normalization Annex contains one explicit reference to female combatants. It states that “special socio-economic programs will be provided to the decommissioned women auxiliary forces of MILF” (Normalization Annex 2014: 8). The guidelines presented in the implementation documents of the Independent Decommissioning Body (2015: 2) refer to “members of the BIAF” and state that this shall include the Women Auxiliary Forces. Although the women are explicitly mentioned, the language used in the documents does not distinguish between the needs of women and men, and the guidelines in the document do not have gender-sensitive considerations. BIWAB women are severely underrepresented amongst the decommissioned combatants. Research conducted across three MILF camps showed that less than 25% of participants who were part of consultations about decommissioning were women (Mahinay et al. Reference Mahinay, Tato, Traje, Romo and Sarmiento2022, 9). As of 2024, the total number of decommissioned combatants stood at 26,132 and 4,625 firearms which are overseen by the International Decommissioning Body (IDB) 2015 (TPMT 2023, 9).
Amongst the total of 26,132 combatants, 1027 women, only 4% of the total, were decommissioned (ID 185, February 01, 2024).Footnote 15 This is partly because the list of decommissioned combatants is compiled and supplied by the MILF leadership which has thus far prioritized male combatants’ access to benefits (IDs 184 and 185 2024). Importantly, the decommissioning’s implementation mechanisms had no female representation (Duque-Salazar, Forsberg, and Olsson Reference Duque-Salazar, Forsberg and Olsson2022, 318). NGO reports with BIWAB members noted that they had difficulties in accessing programs and benefits and there is a general sentiment of being left out of the assistance BIAF receives (OXFAM Pilipinas 2021). In sum, gender equality did not feature in the Normalization process and, as of 2024, no former BIWAB member is included in Parliament or in the UBJP party. Importantly, the lack of formal representation does not mean that BIWAB women were not involved in the actual transformation of the MILF into a political party. As the section above illustrates, through their community work women ex-combatants were key in disseminating information about the transition.
At the individual level, several BIWAB women have undergone various training programs provided by the IOM and UN Women in which they were trained as para-social workers, received training on conflict prevention, mediation, and reporting of gender-based violence. However, interviewees responsible for the design and implementation of some of these projects noted that “regardless of the amount of training they receive, their skills are not being utilized and they are not called upon to mediate conflicts” (ID 178, 2024). This reality illustrates that while individual women invest time and energy in externally designed programs, in addition to their day-to-day reproductive labor, their opportunities remain limited due to key institutions continuing to be male-dominated both during war and peace-time. At the same time, the normalization enabled BIWAB women to “go to the city without fear” (ID 189 2024) and to access services, such as having birth certificates and bank accounts, that were previously unavailable to them. Furthermore, former BIWAB members emphasized that they are now able to spend more quality time with their families and ensure that their children can continue their education.
While family served as an important factor for women to join BIWAB, during the decades-long collective mobilization BIWAB members forced strong, family-like bonds amongst each other. A former battalion commander recalled that “When my husband passed away, I had to raise our children alone. It was not easy but thankfully, my family is my strongest support system, and of course, my sisters in BIWAB also supported me in whatever they can” (ID 195 2024).
These bonds persist beyond the conflict and many BIWAB members remain emotionally invested in their collective combatant identity. Although their lives have changed since demobilization, several interviewees described feeling nostalgic about their revolutionary past. As one of them explained, “I put it (the uniform) on when I miss my BIWAB time, and my kids shout with amazement and ask whether I am a soldier. I don’t understand it but I feel like my uniform is special” (ID 188). The above quotes illustrate how war-time social reproductive work created organizational memoray and bonds between women combatants at the unit level which were not only utilized on the battlefield but extended into the post-conflict period.
While BIWAB is currently not part of formal politics in the BARMM, in 2019, utilizing decades of collective organization and with the help of external support, BIWAB transformed into the League of Moro Women Organization Inc (LMWOI) (van Hoof et al., Reference van Hoof2021, p. 37). As of 2024, LMWOI serves as an umbrella organization for BIWAB, and every battalion organizes themselves into women-led cooperatives (ID 195 2024). LMWOI’s membership is restricted and only includes (as of 2024) former BIWAB members, i.e., no civilian women (ID 174, 2024), suggesting that former female combatants consider their needs and interest to be specific. The establishment of LMWOI illustrates that collective war-time social reproductive practices were used to transform the organization which is now independent from the MILF’s or UBJP’s political goals. As one interviewee characterized the new organization “The LMWOI is a safe space for the BIWAB to capacitate and empower it’s members as this is a legal entity”(ID 195, 2024) and that “this organization also allow us to take part in the political discourse, economic, governance and other civic action” (ID 194, 2024). Another BIWAB combatant explained the transformation as process through which their previously hidden and undervalued labor is being made visible: “We have been given the opportunity to be recognized as a group. Although we were part of the MILF/BIAF but we were hidden, not known, never introduced to the public. Because of the Normalization we are now recognized, even internationally” (ID 189 2024).
While strong unit cohesion can support postwar mobilization by sustaining shared identity and trust, cohesion is not exclusively positive. It may also reproduce hierarchical norms that pose challenges in a civilian political context. Several BIWAB members noted that LMWOI struggles to establish consensus-based decision-making. Interviewees cited a persistent “revolutionary mindset” and the dominance of older ex-commanders as barriers to internal democracy (ID 175, 176 2023). This suggests that while cohesion can be a foundation for collective action, the organizational memory of wartime structures may slow or hinder the development of more participatory forms of organization in the postwar period.
BIWAB’s transformation into LMWOI enabled former female combatants to influence politics in two notable ways. First, former BIWAB members’ interests are being included in the BARMM’s Regional Action Plan (RAP) on Women, Peace, and Security (2023–2028). The RAP calls for the BARMM leadership to ensure the participation of former BIWAB women in the Joint Peace and Security Teams, created by the Normalization Annex and tasked with community policing. Furthermore, the RAP calls for the capacity development of BIWAB women in leadership and governance, and access to education programs (Bangsamoro Regional Action Plan on Women, Peace and Security 2023–2028 2023, 42–43). Second, in April 2024 the “Economic Empowerment of Former Bangsamoro Women Combatants Act of 2024” (Parliament Bill No. 292) was filed to the BTA focusing on former women combatants from both the MILF and the MNLF. Its goal is to “enable former women combatants to establish sustainable livelihoods and become agents of peace and development in their communities.” As we have seen in the preceding section, BIWAB members were already engaged in livelihood project and considered themselves to be key agents of peace and development, precisely through their involvement in the struggle. The bill lists 15 program areas ranging from active citizenship through business incubation to psychosocial support to facilitate the transition of former women combatants. At the time of writing, the bill has not yet been approved or implemented. Still, it reflects how BIWAB’s transformation into LMWOI has created avenues for advocacy rooted in shared wartime experiences. This case demonstrates that even when women are formally excluded from peace processes and party structures, strong unit cohesion and the collective legacy of militarized social reproductive labor can serve as foundations for sustained political engagement. Rather than disappearing from view, BIWAB’s gendered contributions have been repurposed to claim space in the political arena—through civil society channels and informal advocacy rather than through the formal structures of the UBJP party.
Conclusions
Drawing on the case of BIWAB in the Philippines, we developed a framework that theorizes militarized social reproduction (MSR) as both a potential source of postwar exclusion and a foundation for collective agency. While through the mechanism of socialization MSR practices often reinforce gender norms that marginalize women from formal politics, they can also produce strong internal cohesion, skills, and solidarity which—through the mechanism of organizational memory—can enable post-war political mobilization.
By tracing how BIWAB members repurposed these legacies of reproductive labor into postwar political engagement, our study advances feminist scholarship on rebel-to-party transformations. Specifically, it underscores the need to move beyond formal party institutions and examine how gendered labor within armed groups shapes post-conflict political pathways (Almeida and Dudouet Reference Almeida and Dudouet2022). It also demonstrates that wartime organizational structures, especially women-only units, can provide the basis for informal influence even when formal inclusion is denied.
While our findings are grounded in the specific case of BIWAB in the Philippines, the dynamics we identify are not unique to this context. The dual role of militarized social reproduction, as both a source of exclusion and a potential foundation for collective agency, has relevance for other rebel groups where women have been mobilized. Our framework is particularly applicable to cases where women’s wartime contributions were institutionalized within women-only units and where group ideology and related activities within women’s units maintained traditional gender norms. However, in groups with more gender-transgressive ideologies or looser organizational cohesion, navigation strategies may take different forms. Thus, while the specific outcomes in the BIWAB case are context-bound, the framework we advance offers broader analytical leverage for understanding variation in women ex-combatants’ postwar political trajectories.
For researchers, this framework invites comparative analysis of women’s wings across and within rebel groups: for instance, between BIWAB and the MILF’s Social Welfare Committee, or across groups like GAM and FARC-EP. For practitioners, including mediators, donors, and DDR planners, our findings highlight the importance of identifying and engaging women’s units early in the transition process. Doing so may help ensure their experiences and interests are not sidelined and that their potential as political actors is recognized from the outset.
Supplementary material
The supplementary material for this article can be found at http://doi.org/10.1017/S1743923X2510041X.
Data availability statement
The interview guides and interview metadata can be accessed from: https://www.prio.org/data.
Acknowledgement
We would like to thank interviewees for their time and for sharing their experiences. Earlier versions of this paper were presented on February 29, 2024 at the conference, “Bangsamoro Normalization and Women’s Voices” at the University of Philippines’ Centre for Integrative and Development Studies in Manila, at the “Legacies of Civil Wars: Former armed actors’ political participation and impact” conference May 22–23, 2024, in Basel, Switzerland, organized by Swisspeace, FBA, and the Politics After War Network, and at the Gender Research Group at the Peace Research Institute Oslo (PRIO). We thank discussants for their useful comments on earlier drafts.
Author contribution
Conceptualization: JP; Data collection: JP, JU; Writing—original draft: JP; Writing—review and editing: JP and JU; Project administration and funding acquisition: JP.
Funding
This research was funded by the Norwegian Research Council (grant no.324997)
Competing interests
The authors declare no competing interest.
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