Night work in Sri Lanka is entering a new but still complicated chapter, where the promise of equality for female workers collides with the reality of what the local term “nīta kaḍava” (night gap) means for women stepping into the workforce. In July 2025 the government lifted a longstanding ban that prevented women from working night shifts in the hospitality sector – a change hailed as a breakthrough. Yet the headline reform masks deeper structural barriers and cultural assumptions that continue to keep many Sri Lankan women in the dark when it comes to real economic empowerment.
Traditionally, Sri Lanka’s labour laws have treated women as a category deserving “protection” rather than professional agency. For example, under the Employment of Women, Young Persons and Children Act No. 47 of 1956 the definition of “night work” for women is set as at least 11 consecutive hours including the period between 10 pm and 5 am – and any employer must get the written sanction of the Commissioner of Labour before employing a woman after 10 pm. The older Shop & Office Employees (Regulation of Employment and Remuneration) Act No. 19 of 1954 barred women from being employed in shops or offices after 6 pm in most cases. These rules started with a tone of “welfare” (one might even say “rakkīma” (protection), but have increasingly been flagged as a barrier to women’s participation in the formal economy.
When the hospitality sector ban was lifted, many in the industry welcomed the shift, arguing it would free up opportunities in hotels and restaurants where demand is strong for late-night staffing and women had been shut out. But here’s the rub: even with the ban removed, actual rates of female participation in night work remain low, and legal frameworks still impose a heavy administrative and social burden. A policy brief by the International Labour Organization (ILO) observed that outdated laws, lack of flexible working arrangements and concerns about safety keep female labour force participation stuck at around 30 per cent. One civil-society commentary put it succinctly: reforming the ban alone won’t cut the mustard unless you also fix workplace culture, transport safety, childcare and the meaning of “choice” for women.
Culturally speaking, the idea of a woman heading out to a “rātriyā kaḍa” (night shift) still triggers alarm bells in many Sri Lankan households. In Sinhala society the burden of family care — the “paruḷa hā kalā upakāraya” (care and domestic duty) — remains heavily uneven. Employers may still see women as more expensive or risky hires if they want to deploy them after dark. So even with legal barriers relaxed, the demand-side and supply-side constraints persist: women who might want to work night shifts face transport and safety issues, possible workplace harassment, rigid schedules and lack of affordable childcare.
What’s more, the policy momentum has not yet been matched by full legal clarity. In October 2025 the Ministry of Labour (Sri Lanka) announced it will appoint a committee to review 14 major labour laws and introduce four new bills as part of a wider labour reform drive — explicitly including the women-at-night-work provisions. The messaging is clear: the law is being revisited. Yet until those bills are passed and fully implemented, many women remain in a limbo where rules on paper don’t yet translate into changed lives on the ground.
On the bright side, there are encouraging signs of industry-led change: other news reports document a women-run resort in Sri Lanka (the “Amba Yaalu”) that employs 75 women across roles including guest services and security. This is significant in a country where women make up approximately 52 per cent of the population yet only about 10 per cent of hospitality staff are female. That kind of initiative counters the assumption that women cannot work after dark — they are already doing it, when given the chance.
So what needs to happen for the “rātriyā kaḍava” to stop being a barrier and instead become an opportunity? Law reform must be paired with transport safety, decent childcare (even if that means changing the society’s mindset around “gṛ̥ha kārya” (house duty), and workplace environments free from harassment. The “one-size-fits-all” protectionist rule of old must give way to the idea of a woman choosing her own shift, controlling her time, and earning night allowances — after all, many of these laws required that a woman working at night be paid at least one-and-a-half times the normal wage.
In the end the real measure will not be the repeal of a clause but the number of women who say: “Yes, I chose this shift and I feel safe and paid fairly for it.” Until then the glow of opportunity at night for Sri Lankan women remains half-lit.
If I had a rupee for every time a politician or bureaucrat in Asia said they were “protecting” women, I’d be sipping cocktails in Galle Fort with my feet up and a fan of crisp 5,000-rupee notes. But here we are in 2025, still fighting for the most basic thing: the right to choose when and how we work — including at night — without the moral policing, the patronising laws, and the constant chorus of “but is it safe for you, dear?”
Let’s get this straight: night work is not the problem. The problem is a system that treats women as fragile porcelain dolls who might crack if exposed to anything after dark. Sri Lanka’s old laws — and some quietly lingering attitudes — were built on the assumption that a woman out at night must be either vulnerable or suspicious. As if the moonlight automatically erases our professionalism and turns us into victims-in-waiting. Please. Some of us are more awake, alert, and capable at 1 a.m. than half the Cabinet is at 10 in the morning.
What women want is embarrassingly simple: choice, equal pay, and safety. Notice what’s not on that list: paternalistic restrictions. If a woman chooses a night shift because the pay is better, because she prefers those hours, or because that’s when the job exists — that is her decision, not the Labour Commissioner’s, not her employer’s, and certainly not society’s. Don’t tell us when we may or may not earn our own living.
And yes, equal pay must be non-negotiable. Night allowances, overtime, 1.5× wages — whatever the men get, we get. And if the men get more, well, bump us up to match and throw in a bonus for putting up with decades of being told to stay home “for our own good.”
Now let’s talk security. Not the abstract kind that bureaucrats love to reference in speeches, but the real deal: safe transport, proper lighting, CCTV, trained security staff who don’t think harassment is part of the evening entertainment. If a government can build luxury towers and expressways, it can arrange safe bus routes for working women at midnight.
And while we’re at it, how about childcare that actually functions? Because most Sri Lankan families still act like childcare is a woman’s private problem — until the aunties, neighbours, and school WhatsApp groups get involved. Night shifts require night solutions: 24-hour childcare support, flexible hours, and employers who understand that a working mother is not a scheduling inconvenience.
So stop “protecting” us. Start enabling us. Women don’t need permission to step into the night. We need the freedom to work, the safety to do it confidently, and the respect to be paid fairly. The darkness is not the danger — outdated attitudes are.