Dhaka, Bangladesh — On July 16, 2024, as security forces launched a brutal crackdown on student protesters campaigning against then-Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s increasingly authoritarian government, Bangladeshi rapper Muhammad Shezan released a song.
Titled Kotha Ko (speak up in Bangla), the song asked: “The country says it’s free, then where’s your roar?”
It was the day that Abu Sayed, a protester, was killed, becoming the face of the campaign to depose Hasina after 15 years in power. Sayed’s death fuelled the public anger that led to intensified protests. And Shezan’s Kotha Ko, along with a song by another rapper, Hannan Hossain Shimul, became anthems for that movement, culminating in Hasina fleeing Bangladesh for India in August.
Fast forward a year, and Shezan recently released another hit rap track. In Huddai Hutashe, he raps about how “thieves” are being garlanded with flowers – a reference, he said, to unqualified individuals seizing important positions in post-Hasina Bangladesh.
As the country marks the anniversary of the uprising against Hasina, protest tools that played a key role in galvanising support against the former leader have become part of mainstream Bangladeshi politics.
Rap, social media memes and graffiti are now also a part of the arsenal of young Bangladeshis looking to hold their new rulers accountable, just as they once helped uproot Hasina.
‘Do less drama, dear’
As mob violence surged in Bangladesh last autumn in the aftermath of Hasina’s ouster, a Facebook meme went viral.
It showed the familiar red and green seal of the Bangladesh government. But instead of the golden map of the nation inside the red circle, it depicted stick-wielding men beating a fallen victim.
The text around the emblem had been tweaked – in Bangla, it no longer read “People’s Republic of Bangladesh Government,” but “Mob’s Republic of Bangladesh Government”.
The satire was biting and pointed, revealing an uncomfortable side of post-Hasina Bangladesh. “It was out of this frustration that I created the illustration, as a critique on the ‘rule of mobs’ and the government’s apparent inaction,” said Imran Hossain, a journalist and activist who created the meme. “Many people shared it on social media, and some even used it as their profile picture as a quiet form of protest.”
After the student-led revolution, the newly appointed interim government under Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus embarked on a sweeping reform agenda – covering the constitution, elections, judiciary and police.
But mob violence emerged as a challenge that the government struggled to contain. This period saw mobs attacking Sufi shrines and Hindu minorities, storming women’s football pitches, and even killing alleged drug dealers – many of these incidents filmed, shared and fiercely debated online.
“After the July uprising, some groups in Bangladesh – many of whom had been oppressed under the previous regime – suddenly found themselves with a lot of power. But instead of using that newfound power responsibly, some began taking the law into their own hands,” Hossain said.
As with rap songs, such memes had also played a vital role in capturing the public mood during the anti-Hasina protests.
After security officials killed hundreds of protesters on July 18 and 19, Sheikh Hasina was seen crying over damage to a metro station allegedly caused by demonstrators. That moment fuelled a wave of memes.
One viral meme said “Natok Kom Koro Prio” (Do less drama, dear), and was viral throughout the latter half of July. It mocked Hasina’s sentimental display – whether over the damaged metro station or her claim to “understand the pain of losing loved ones” after law enforcement agencies had killed hundreds.
Until then, ridiculing Sheikh Hasina had been a “difficult” act, said Punny Kabir, a prominent social media activist known for her witty political memes over the years, and a PhD student at the University of Cologne.
While newspaper cartoonists previously used to lampoon political leaders, that stopped during Hasina’s rule since 2009, which was marked by arrests of critics and forced disappearances, she said.
“To face off an authoritarian regime, it’s [ridiculing] an important and powerful tool to overcome fear and surveillance,” Kabir said. “We made it possible, and it broke the fear.”
‘If you resist, you are Bangladesh’
As fear of Sheikh Hasina faded from social media, more people found their voice – a reflection that soon spread onto the streets. Thousands of walls were covered with paintings, graffiti, and slogans of courage such as “Killer Hasina”, “Stop Genocide” and “Time’s Up Hasina”.
“These artworks played a big role in the protests,” said political analyst and researcher Altaf Parvez. “Slogans like ‘If you are scared, you’re finished; but if you resist, you are Bangladesh’ – one slogan can make all the difference, and that’s exactly what happened.
“People were searching for something courageous. When someone created something that defied fear – creative slogans, graffiti, cartoons – these became sources of inspiration, spreading like wildfire. People found their voice through them,” he added.
That voice did not go silent with Hasina’s departure.
Today, memes targeting various political parties, not just the government, are widespread.
One of Imran’s works uses a Simpsons cartoon to illustrate how sycophants used to eulogise Hasina’s family for its role in Bangladesh’s 1971 liberation war when she was in power. Now, the cartoon points out, loyalists of the opposition Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP)’s leader Khaleda Zia and her son Tarique Rahman are trying to flatter their family for their contribution to the country’s independence movement. Hasina’s father, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, led the freedom struggle, while Zia’s husband Ziaur Rahman was a senior army officer who announced the country’s independence on March 27, 1971.
Another meme from a popular Gen-Z Facebook page called WittiGenZ recently highlighted allegations of sexual misconduct by a leader of the National Citizen Party (NCP) – a party formed by Bangladesh’s students.
What comes next for political art in Bangladesh?
Political analysts in Bangladesh believe the tools that contributed to toppling Sheikh Hasina will continue to be relevant in the country’s future.
“Memes and photo cards in Bangladesh essentially do what X does in the West. They provide the most effective short-form political commentary to maximise virality,” said US-based Bangladeshi geopolitical columnist Shafquat Rabbee.
Bangladesh’s central bank unveiled new banknote designs inspired by the graffiti created by students during last July’s monsoon uprising, a nod to the art form’s widespread popularity as a means of political communication.
And rap, Rabbee said, found a natural entry in Bangladeshi politics in 2024. In Bangladesh’s context, back in July 2024, political street fighting became a dominant and fitting instrument of protest against Hasina’s repressive forces, he said.
The artists behind the songs say they never expected their work to echo across Bangladesh.
“I wrote these lyrics myself,” Shezan said, about Kotha Ko. “I didn’t think about how people would respond – we simply acted out of a sense of responsibility to what was happening.”
As with Shezan’s song, fellow rapper Hannan’s Awaaz Utha also went viral online, especially on Facebook, the same day – July 18 – that it was released. “You hit one, 10 more will come back,” a line said. As Hasina found it, they did.
The rappers themselves also joined the protests. Hannan was arrested a week after his song’s release and was only freed after Hasina resigned and fled to India.
But now, said Shezan, rap was there to stay in Bangladesh’s public life, from advertising jingles to lifestyle. “Many people are consciously or subconsciously embracing hip-hop culture,” he said.
“The future of rap is bright.”
