The Localized History Project

Interviews with Bengali American Students

Bangladesh, with over 170 million people, is located in South Asia, bordered by India on three sides and the Bay of Bengal to the south. The country’s roots trace back through British colonialism, the partition of India, and a brutal independence war in 1971. Bengali people are known for their deep connection to language, art, and revolution, exemplified by the 1952 Language Movement that inspired UNESCO’s International Mother Language Day. Despite this rich cultural heritage, the Bengali narrative is largely absent from American education, even in places like New York City, home to over 100,000 Bengali-speaking residents.

Take Sanzida Nahid, a senior at John Jay College studying Forensics and Law. Growing up in New York, she never learned about Bengali history, traditions, or even basic cultural practices in high school or college. “In school, it was always the same Eurocentric history. South Asia was barely mentioned, and when it was, Bangladesh wasn’t part of the story,” she explains. Sanzida's cultural education began through self-guided exploration: music her mother used to play, translated poetry by Tagore, and online creators who shared her heritage. “It made me feel invisible,” she reflects. “Like I had to figure out my identity in secret.” Her experience is one many Bengali-American students can relate to—having to bridge the gap between a culture lived at home and one erased at school.

Questions I Asked Sanzida:

  • “Growing up in New York, did you ever learn about Bengali culture in school?”
  • “When did you first start learning about your own culture?”
  • “Did that ever make you feel disconnected or frustrated?”

 Then there’s Mohammed Rabbi, a high school student navigating the same challenges today. “The most we got was one paragraph in a textbook that said Bangladesh used to be part of India,” he says, laughing. Rabbi describes feeling caught between two worlds. At school, his culture was ignored. At home, it was vivid and alive—spoken in Bangla, served on plates of shada bhaat and dim curry, and celebrated during Eid. “It was confusing,” he admits. “You stop talking about it because people either don’t get it, or they make you feel like it’s weird.” He eventually found pride in his roots through Bengali music, cooking with family, and following Bangladeshi TikTok creators. “But none of that came from school,” he says. “I had to figure it out on my own.”

Questions:

  • “Do you ever hear about Bangladesh or Bengali culture in your classes?”
  • “So, how did you start connecting with your culture?"
  • “Do you ever talk about it at school?”

As I talked with Sanzida and Sayem, I wanted to learn how they connected with their Bengali identity while growing up in the U.S. I asked Sanzida, “Growing up in New York, did you ever learn about Bengali culture in school?” She told me no, not even once. Wanting to understand more, I followed up: “When did you first start learning about your own culture?” She explained that it wasn’t through school at all, but rather something she had to figure out on her own through Bengali music, books, and even TikTok. That made me ask, “Did that ever make you feel disconnected or frustrated?” and she told me it made her feel invisible. Later, when I spoke to Sayem, I asked him, “Do you ever hear about Bangladesh or Bengali culture in your classes?” He laughed and said the most he saw was a single paragraph in a textbook. I asked, “So how did you start connecting with your culture?” and he said it was through his parents, Bengali songs, and online videos. Curious about how comfortable he felt expressing that at school, I asked, “Do you ever talk about it at school?” He told me not really—because people didn’t understand it, it was easier to keep that part of himself quiet.

Through these conversations, I realized just how much of our identity we’ve had to discover on our own, without the support of the education system. These stories show a pattern: Bengali identity, history, and culture are missing from formal education, and young people have to work twice as hard to connect with their roots. This lack of representation isn’t just about oversight—it’s about missed opportunities to affirm identity and build confidence. When students don’t see their culture reflected in the books they read, the holidays acknowledged in the classroom, or the languages respected in the hallways, they begin to feel like they don’t belong. This is especially frustrating given the significance of Bangladesh’s contributions to global culture and history. Bengali is the seventh most spoken language in the world, with over 250 million speakers. The country’s literature, music, and political activism have influenced generations across South Asia and beyond. Yet in American public education, these realities are often ignored or oversimplified.

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Interviews with Bengali American Students