I went to Australia in 2008 to pursue my Masters in Information Technology at the Adelaide campus of Carnegie Mellon University. At that time Carnegie Mellon’s MSIT program was ranked number one internationally in the field of technology and was a dream program for any ambitious IT professional. The one year course was a rigorous program with three semesters squeezed into one year with a mixture of technology, business and public policy-related courses. It was, by far, the most challenging and enjoyable educational experience of my life. I never thought learning could be so addictive that I would voluntarily give up sleeping more than 5 hours a day. Continue reading
When I was growing up, I was not considered ‘pretty’ by the Chakma standard. I was not tall enough, not thin enough, my eyes were not big enough, my skin was not fair enough, my hair was not silky enough etc. By Bangladeshi standard I am probably too ‘exotic’ to be considered as pretty/beautiful anyway. I have been ridiculously insecure about my appearance for as long as I can remember.
In summer 2013, I was going to attend the UNAOC-EF Summer School to represent Bangladesh in the EF Tarrytown campus in New York. I had a brief virtual encounter with the delegate from Sri Lanka on Facebook before heading off to New York. After a bit of chitchat we discovered we had attended a common event in Nepal the previous year. We were both in Dhulikel to attend feminist training programs. In one of the evenings, the two training groups met for a solidarity night that comprised of a cultural program followed by dinner. The Sri Lankan delegate said she remembered me from that evening. I thought this was a bit strange given that there were so many people to remember from that night. I clearly did not remember her. I felt guilty about it, blamed it on my poor memory and apologized to her. When we met in New York later she asked me “Do you know why I remembered you from that night in Nepal?” I said “Was it because I was wearing the same costume as the other Chakma girl in your training group?” She said, “No, I thought you were very pretty.” Continue reading
Tim Minchin, the former UWA arts student described as “sublimely talented, witty, smart and unabashedly offensive” in a musical career that has taken the world by storm, is awarded an honorary doctorate by The University of Western Australia.
I come from the ‘Rangei hoza’ (Rangei clan) and ‘bhuter gusthi’ (ghost group) of Chakmas, which means my paternal side of the family is a descendant of a ghost. This must sound quite exotic to people who do not belong to the Chakma community. Chakmas comprise of less than 0.3% of Bangladeshi population and mostly live in the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT). My identity struggle as an ethnic minority began at an early age. Unlike many other indigenous kids of CHT, I went to schools in different parts of the country due to the nature of my father’s job. I ended up being the only Chakma kid in my class in every school I went to. I figured I was somewhat different from other children. Usually it was not my behaviour, rather my flat nose and slanted eyes that gave it away. It was easy to stereotype me. Kids would often chant “Chakma! Chakma!” if they saw me pass by. Sometimes I would be asked whether my people (Chakmas) ate frogs and snakes, lived naked in the jungle and spoke Chinese language. These things upset me back then. It felt awful to be different and I did not exactly embrace my Chakma identity with a sense of pride or happiness. Continue reading
TRIMITA CHAKMA, TASAFFY HOSSAIN and TAHMINA SHAFIQUE outline an initiative to combat violence against women.
February 14, 2013 was a different day in Bangladesh. People from all walks of life took to the streets across the country. Women, men and children, countless adorned in red, joyously singing and shouting and demanding an end to a culture. A culture that has been “normal”, “private” and more importantly, “silent”. A society, which otherwise reflects significant lack of prioritisation on violence against women issues, came together to show their support. Almost 3 million men and women, through more than 335 organisations, occupied the streets in more than 40 locations in Dhaka and across all the 64 districts in Bangladesh, demanding an end to violence against women with joy, empowerment and exuberance. There were human rights activists, factory workers, union workers, lawyers, bankers, parliamentarians, tea garden workers, UN employees, school children, university students, farmers, teachers, domestic workers, adivasis, artists, writers, local government personnel, homosexuals, heterosexuals and hijras (transsexuals), young and old, survivors and allies.
“Silence — NO MORE”, they chanted, hoisting red banners, their red clothes signifying the colour of fire, of rising and more importantly, of power. ‘NO MORE violence against women,’ they sang in unison as they took to the streets. These were people who stepped out of small shops, factories, construction sites, stations, schools, universities, offices, homes, corporate houses, banks all across the country. Continue reading
When the Shahbag protest started, the spirit of the movement and the unity with which people gathered made me feel something extraordinary. I personally do not support death penalty, but like many, I was disappointed when the Kader Mollah aka the Butcher of Mirpur did not get the supreme punishment according to the law – fasi (death sentence). Many human rights activists who have worked with international processes of human rights would not openly support the death penalty. Research studies have shown that the death penalty does not prove to be a deterrent to rape or murder. However, if Kader Mollah were to be hanged, I do not think the activists would start a movement against it.
We must recognize the other dimensions of the Shahbag movement, the dimension other than the demand of capital punishment. Although Shahbag is not the first protest I went to, it is in a way extraordinary. Because it is for the first time in the last four decades, a huge number of apolitical people have come together to challenge something that did not feel right. This gave immense hope to people for change, for ending the culture of impunity and demanding accountability from the bodies that are responsible for implementing our laws. Continue reading