AT an intersection in Brooklyn in New York City, Bangladeshi immigrants take some of their first steps toward new lives. Where Church and McDonald Avenues meet, the scent of milky tea fills the air, and Bengali is more common than English.
For decades, construction work was a primary trade for members of the Bangladeshi community in Kensington, a Brooklyn neighbourhood. But the once-familiar morning rumble of contractors’ vans now has given way to the afternoon whirl of e-bikes making deliveries.
In the evenings, groups of men leave their crowded, subdivided apartments for adda, an informal gathering to catch up, often with snacks and tea.
Since the early 1970s, Bangladeshi immigrants have expanded their footprint with businesses, newfound political influence and places to worship. For many, the city now feels like home.
The number of Bangladeshis in New York City has nearly tripled over the past decade to more than 100,000. New communities dot the city, and their growth has helped make Asians the fastest-growing racial group in the city, according to the latest census data.
In Brooklyn last October, a corner in Kensington became one of a handful of places officially given the name “Little Bangladesh”. There, the intersection of Church and McDonald has become a beacon for newly arrived Bangladeshis – a jumping-off point where newcomers can find apartments, jobs and friends.
“Everybody is coming here for socialising, but also to think about the next day,” said Sohel Mahmud, 54, a Bangladeshi journalist who runs ProbasiTV, an online news site covering the diaspora, out of a rowhouse a few steps away.
Young Bangladeshi Americans are making inroads into politics, most notably with the election of Shahana Hanif, a daughter of Kensington, to the city council in 2021. Shahana’s victory, at age 30, made her the first woman to represent the district, as well as the first Muslim woman and one of the first two South Asians on the council.
It was Shahana who requested the intersection’s new name. She also co-sponsored a resolution to make Feb 21 Mother Language Day, in tandem with a holiday in Bangladesh commemorating protesters who fought for Bengali as a state language in the 1950s, when the area was part of Pakistan.
Shahana’s family history illustrates how Bangladeshi Kensington came to be. Her father arrived in the early ’80s and worked his way up in construction and restaurants, and came to own a local mainstay, Radhuni Sweets & Restaurant, which is now run by others.
Her experiences in the neighbourhood drove her to make sure that all members of the community feel welcome in its public spaces. While the corner is often a male-dominated space, she and other Bangladeshi American women have carved out their own places there.
“I grew up like, ‘Wear a shawl over your chest, look down,’” Shahana said. “There was a script. And I think many of us did not follow that script and pursued our own paths in an interesting, unique way.”
Some women in the community are pushing to create new opportunities for themselves, but also to preserve their language and culture, especially for Bangladeshi children growing up in a diverse city.
Farojan Saeed, 28, moved to New York in 2016 to join her husband, Syed Rehan, who works in technology.
Now Farojan teaches dance at a local public school and at the Bangladesh Institute of Performing Arts, which promotes the arts and language of Bangladesh and holds classes in the neighbourhood. She also works as an intake coordinator for a home health care company.
Her husband has been living for more than 20 years in the same small apartment in Kensington, which they now share with his parents.
Farojan wants to buy a house, but real estate in Kensington has become far too expensive. She is considering Jamaica, Queens, where the performing arts institute has another outpost.
Annie Ferdous helped found the Bangladeshi Institute of Performing Arts in the early ’90s. She is trying to carve out a space inside a conservative culture where dance is often frowned upon. Some see it as incompatible with their interpretation of Islam.
Annie also faced opposition as she was growing up, from relatives on her mother’s side who frowned upon dance. But her father pushed for her to be allowed to pursue her art, which she calls her first love.
With other public spaces so dominated by men, Annie sees it as vital that women gather to keep their traditions alive. She calls it “constructive adda”.
“Those of us who can, if we lead the path and move forward, then a few others will think, ‘Let me also, we have a space,’” she said. — ©2023 The New York Times Company