Bangla: তুমি কে আমি কে - বাঙালি
English Pronunciation: Tumi ke, ami ke - Bangali
Meaning: Who are you, who am I? We are (Razakar crossed) Bengalis
The July Uprising in Bangladesh brought with it many significant moments, one of the most iconic being the transformation of a derogatory term—"Razakar"—into a powerful symbol of resistance and unity. In a series of graffiti and slogans that painted the walls of Dhaka, one phrase stood out and resonated with the hearts of the protesters:
"Tumi ke, ami ke - Bangali"(Who are you, who am I? We are (Razakar crossed) Bengalis).
At the heart of this phrase was a defiant reclaiming of national identity in the face of oppressive labeling. The term "Razakar" has a painful and complicated history in Bangladesh, referring to individuals who collaborated with Pakistan during the Liberation War of 1971, a betrayal that left a scar on the nation’s collective memory. The term is associated with betrayal of the homeland, of choosing the side of oppression over freedom, and for many, it is one of the harshest insults one can face.
When Sheikh Hasina, the Prime Minister of Bangladesh, used the term "Razakar" to label the young protesters during the July Uprising, it sparked widespread outrage. These protesters were not traitors to the nation; they were students and young people calling for systemic reforms in governance, better economic opportunities, and anti-corruption measures. They were demanding justice in a system that many felt was plagued by corruption, inefficiency, and authoritarianism. The government's response was swift: label them as traitors, tarnish their cause, and delegitimize their demands.
However, instead of being cowed by these accusations, the youth turned the insult on its head. They embraced the term "Razakar" ironically, using it as a tool of defiance. The slogan "Tumi ke, ami ke – Razakar, Razakar" (Who are you, who am I? Razakar, Razakar) became an act of resistance. By chanting these words, the protesters were sending a powerful message back to the government: "We will not be silenced by your insults. We are not traitors; we are the people of Bangladesh, and we will demand our rights."
The slogan’s power didn’t just lie in its defiance; it also signified a moment of collective identity. When the word "Razakar" was crossed out and replaced with "Bangali" (Bengali), the protesters were declaring their patriotism and their connection to a rich history of struggle. The crossed-out "Razakar" symbolized the rejection of authoritarian attempts to undermine their movement, while "Bangali" reflected their commitment to the nation, its values, and its future.
This graffiti, captured by photographer Manzarul Akhandh, became a poignant visual of the uprising. It showed how an entire generation, who felt disillusioned with the ruling government's unresponsiveness to their needs, could come together to redefine their national identity. They took back control of their narrative—rejecting the government's attempts to brand them as enemies and instead affirming that they were the true sons and daughters of Bangladesh. They were not traitors, they were patriots—fighting for a better Bangladesh.
The slogan was more than just a response to being labeled as “traitors”; it was a reclamation of their identity. It embodied the struggle against government oppression, fascism, and the efforts of those in power to silence dissenting voices. By calling themselves “Bangali”, the youth were sending a message that no matter how hard the government tried to repress them, they were still the rightful heirs to the values of freedom, democracy, and justice that the nation was founded on in 1971.
The July Uprising saw a remarkable level of resilience and determination. This poster, along with others like it, was a symbol of the youth’s unwavering commitment to social justice, political reform, and democracy. It turned an insult into an assertion of power and identity, showing that even in the face of brutal government suppression, the Bangladeshi spirit could not be crushed.
As we reflect on the significance of this movement, it’s clear that the youth of Bangladesh are not simply fighting for immediate reforms—they are also fighting for a deeper, more meaningful connection to their national identity. They are standing up to reclaim their rights, but they are also reclaiming their story and ensuring that their voices will be heard in shaping the future of the country. The slogan "Tumi ke, ami ke – Bangali" serves as a powerful reminder that no amount of oppression can erase the will of the people who fight for their nation’s freedom, justice, and dignity.
In the end, the July Uprising was not just a protest against a government, it was a battle for the soul of Bangladesh. And as the graffiti on the walls of Dhaka showed, the people of Bangladesh—united and unyielding—are ready to reclaim what is rightfully theirs.
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