The Rohingya camps in Bangladesh, the largest refugee settlement in the world, have been described as squalid, crowded, and dangerous. For me, for over six years, they were home. In 2017, at the age of 14, I was forced to flee genocide at the hands of the Myanmar military. I lived in the camps until two years ago, when I became one of the the first Rohingya refugees resettled to the United States following the genocide.
Last month, I became the first resettled Rohingya to return to visit the camps.
Standing outside my former shelter, embracing my grandmother for the first time in two years, I was overcome by a mix of emotions. On the one hand, I am grateful for the opportunity I have been given to speak out for my community. But on the other hand, I fear it is becoming more difficult to get people to pay attention. So, here is what I want the world to know.
My visit back to the camps made three things clear. First, cuts to humanitarian aid are having a dangerous effect on the more than 1 million Rohingya survivors of genocide still living in Bangladesh. Second, a lack of education, livelihood opportunities, and security in the camps are making people even more vulnerable. And third, we Rohingya need to finally have the chance to have a say in our future.
Since I left the camps in Bangladesh two years ago, cuts to global humanitarian assistance for the Rohingya have hurt my community. Those I spoke with made it clear that the U.S. freeze on humanitarian assistance was already having negative effects across the camps. At least five health centers stopped all but emergency care. The main provider for people with disabilities had to discontinue its work. And hundreds of volunteers providing awareness and protection services to counter gender-based violence, prepare for monsoons, and assist pregnant women have been released, losing the small volunteer stipends that played such an important part in supplementing their meager rations.
On the day I returned to the United States, the World Food Program (WFP) announced that monthly food rations in the camps would be cut by more than half. We know from past smaller cuts that such a move would have increased malnutrition, driven refugees toward human trafficking and child marriage, and overall increased preventable deaths. So many of my community members told me they were afraid. Humanitarian workers said they saw a spike in psychosocial effects – and shared their own anguish about the pending cuts.
Thankfully, at the last minute, the United States announced that it would restore funding for the WFP to allow only a minimal reduction in rations. This avoided the nightmare scenario, for now.
Second, while I and my community are so thankful and grateful to the Bangladesh government and people for hosting us and providing refuge for nearly eight years, too many restrictions remain in the camps, impeding the self-reliance necessary to build out a future for our community. The lack of livelihood opportunities keeps Rohingya dependent on the aid that has become so fleeting. And the dearth of educational opportunities will undermine the sustainability of future returns and may drive Rohingya youth toward negative activities like crime and joining with armed groups.
Third, Rohingya voices are not being included sufficiently in discussions about our community’s future. The Rohingya I spoke with in the camps do not feel that they are being heard, much less included in discussions or consultation. Only a select few seem to be given a platform to speak, and those who do speak out face threats from armed non-state actors.
But amid these challenges, I also see opportunities. The interim government in Bangladesh is much more open to conversations about education and livelihoods. Dynamics in Myanmar, where an ethnic armed group called the Arakan Army (AA) has taken control of nearly all of Rakhine State and the border with Bangladesh, has opened the prospect (admittedly tentative at the moment) for dialogue over safe returns. And, as the violence in the camps remains mostly reduced, there is space for measures to further protect Rohingya and begin meaningful steps toward repatriation.
The ultimate solution clearly lies inside Myanmar. Each Rohingya will tell you that they want to return to their homes, but only when it is safe to do so. A dialogue with the de facto Arakan authorities is worthwhile, but will require time to overcome well-warranted suspicions among the Rohingya community. Reaching the point of safe and sustainable returns will be challenging. What should not be challenging is starting down that path.
For its part, the Arakan authorities, eager for international legitimacy, can show good faith by allowing the several hundred thousand Rohingya still inside Rakhine State, including tens of thousands of internally displaced people, to return to their places of origin with respected rights and safety. They can allow cross-border aid into areas affected by famine-levels of hunger. And they can take steps to hold to account members of the Arakan Army responsible for committing atrocities.
Bangladesh, U.N. agencies, and international donors can enable this path by playing a monitoring role in any returns and by enabling the self-reliance of the Rohingya community through expanded education and livelihood opportunities in the camps. And, most urgently, basic humanitarian aid to the Rohingya community must be sustained.
Finally, Rohingya must be included in plans for their future. A global conference on the Rohingya scheduled for September 2025 is an important opportunity. But true inclusion will require meaningful participation in decision-making processes, in talks with any stakeholders on deciding about the Rohingya’s future, and discussions around their return to their homes. It will mean allowing Rohingya in the camps – and not just a chosen few – to feel safe to speak out and to be heard. It will require Rohingya still inside Rakhine State to feel improvements toward safe and peaceful coexistence with the Rakhine people. And it will require diaspora, like me, to continue to speak out.
I just hope that the message will be heard.