The Spirit Of Resistance
I think I finally know who we are
In Bangladesh, I always felt like someone was breathing down my neck — when I spoke, when I wrote, and even in my silent thoughts, it felt like I was being monitored. I never felt at ease with who I was, never comfortable. I can’t really say that feeling has completely gone within these two short years. Old habits die hard, but I think something changed in the last few weeks when people, who often felt the same way I did (except for some outliers), took to the streets. They let go of their fears and rose like an erupting volcano of power.
People power rising against guns and violence is the most extraordinary thing I have seen in my life. But I feel something else happened — something that can only be described as our erupting spirit.
You know that sense of ease people feel about who they are? Have you seen it? I have seen it among people who felt free, even for a day. They can always go back to that feeling and stay calm in any situation. I think this forges the backbone of our identity. I always wondered why those who fought in the Liberation War felt more at ease with who they are than anyone else I’ve met in Bangladesh.
I used to think it was a generational thing, but more and more, I realize we must reclaim our identities from those who want to mold them into their shapes. As abstract as the concept of identities is, it’s the core of our being. Just like our sense of pride or our sense of integrity, we feel it most when under the threat of being diminished. We can reclaim it, then we get to feel it. We have to fight for it, and those who have not fought for it or given blood for it will never know this feeling.
Through this feeling, you can claim who you are. Although all identities tend to oppress eventually, let me repeat that although all identities forged in crisis can be used as a tool of oppression, they can, for the briefest time, bring out the best in you.
I wonder if we can harness this fiery spirit when we come to work every day, take our thoughts to a adda, or break away from the shackles of oppression, what world will that be like.