From public universities to private campuses, from madrasah students to rickshaw-pullers, people from all walks of life stood shoulder to shoulder, forging the historic July August movement in defiance of violence and injustice. These are the voices of those who were there – who marched, who bled, who carried the fallen and who refused to stay silent. Not just stories of protest, but of unity, sacrifice and unshaken hope for a different future.

Shorna Akter Ria
Student, Department of Public Administration, Jagannath University
I grew up in the disciplined environment of a cantonment. My father was in the armed forces. From him, I inherited discipline, courage, and a sense of fearlessness. I was one of the central coordinators of the movement, but I stepped down on 8 September.
In early July, I was working on a project under Dhaka’s Chief Heat Officer, which kept me away from campus developments. My involvement began on 8 July, when a student procession reached Gulistan Zero Point. That’s when I joined in.
As a girl, I was given space and support. That gave me strength—knowing my brothers stood by me.
But my motivation wasn’t just spontaneous. My sister was involved in the 2018 quota reform movement. When the quota system was reinstated, I knew we had to fight again. We too may want to join the civil service someday. If we don’t end this now, someone else will have to rise and bleed again.
Initially, the movement focused solely on reforming the quota system. But on 15 July, everything changed. That day, it shifted from a reform movement into an anti-regime uprising. We were marching toward Dhaka University when Chhatra League members launched a sudden, brutal attack. I had thought they wouldn’t attack girls—but I was wrong.
As the violence began, some of us took shelter behind a bus. I remember silently reciting prayers. But even then, they hurled bricks at us.  The blood of a girl standing next to me soaked my hands. The attackers dragged us out one by one and beat us with sticks. The police stood nearby and did nothing. After that day, many Chhatra League members resigned. The movement transformed into a broader anti-authoritarian uprising.
When asked whether the movement’s goals were fulfilled, I don’t have a simple answer.
Justice has not been served. The police officers who fired on protesters are still in service—just transferred. No one has been held accountable.
And now, people are only talking about elections. But I want reforms first. Real reforms. Reforms so that fascism cannot return.
The July Declaration is still unfulfilled. Where is our safety? What guarantee do we have that another party in power won’t torture us again? We want the full implementation of the July Declaration—without delay.
As for why I didn’t continue in politics—it’s simple. I joined the movement to bring change. But soon after the uprising, I realised many people were just chasing personal gain.
Family pressure also played a role. If politics had been a healthy space—if vengeance weren’t so deeply embedded in the culture—I might have stayed.
I want justice. I want a new political culture. I don’t want to see another Abrar Fahad murdered. No one else should be labelled ‘Shibir’ and killed like Bishwajit. No more murders like that of Major Sinha.
We need to move beyond Dhaka University–centric student politics. Jagannath University and others were excluded after the movement. Both student advisers were from DU. Why not from elsewhere? Didn’t we contribute too?
We reject this discriminatory ‘minus-minus’ politics. And if anyone asks why I didn’t join politics—the answer is in the system. Let them look there.