Reality, Bangladesh and me

What is real to me? This is indeed a complicated question. Do I truly know the answer? In one sense, everything feels real to me, yet at the same time, nothing might be real. It raises the question: Who defines what is real? Who constructs reality? To me, reality is what I believe in. It signifies the existence of something. Normally, we believe in what we see, but sometimes, what we see may not be true. Growing up, our parents taught us what is real and what isn’t. We live in a society constructed by people, where the entire system influences what we perceive as real. Therefore, it’s difficult to definitively say what is real and what is not. Reality, I believe, is an abstract concept. In the context of Bangladesh, reality has multiple meanings. For instance, the fact that we are Bangladeshi is a significant reality. But who defines this? We could argue that the whole world is our home, but that’s not how society operates. Every country has its land, people, and culture. Society defines boundaries, and the system tells us we are Bangladeshi, Americans, or others. In Bangladesh, another stark reality is poverty. Many people live below the poverty line and cannot meet their basic needs. Some have no roof over their heads and struggle to eat even two meals a day—something unimaginable to others. During a multimedia production project last semester, I spent a day with construction workers in Dhaka. I was shocked to see their working conditions. They labor under the scorching sun, boiling coal for pitch—a task in an unbearably hot and unsafe environment. I asked them how they endure it, and they replied, “It is our work, and we are bound to do it.” This is their reality—a harsh one—and it’s part of ours too. Another reality is the inequality faced by women. Women are often subjected to physical and mental abuse, a grim truth shaped by societal norms. Many people believe women are incapable of doing certain things and expect them to follow rules created by men. But this isn’t real to me. I believe I’m a smart woman, pursuing my education, and I will do what I want. What others think about me doesn’t concern me. My reality is that I live according to my beliefs and aspirations. Living in Dhaka presents its own challenges. The endless traffic jams, corruption, and issues with law enforcement are often accepted as unchangeable realities. However, I believe these are constructed illusions. We have solutions, but we don’t try to implement them. Instead, we have normalized these problems as part of our reality. For me, reality is something entirely different. I strive to evaluate things using my knowledge and reasoning. I refuse to accept illusions or blindly follow societal constructs. Reality, to me, is not external—it is deeply personal. It is what I am and my existence. This revision enhances the structure and flow of your ideas while maintaining your original message. Let me know if you’d like any further adjustments! What is real to me? This is indeed a complicated question. Do I truly know the answer? In one sense, everything feels real to me, yet at the same time, nothing might be real. It raises the question: Who defines what is real? Who constructs reality? To me, reality is what I believe in. It signifies the existence of something. Normally, we believe in what we see, but sometimes, what we see may not be true. Growing up, our parents taught us what is real and what isn’t. We live in a society constructed by people, where the entire system influences what we perceive as real. Therefore, it’s difficult to definitively say what is real and what is not. Reality, I believe, is an abstract concept. In the context of Bangladesh, reality has multiple meanings. For instance, the fact that we are Bangladeshi is a significant reality. But who defines this? We could argue that the whole world is our home, but that’s not how society operates. Every country has its land, people, and culture. Society defines boundaries, and the system tells us we are Bangladeshi, Americans, or others. In Bangladesh, another stark reality is poverty. Many people live below the poverty line and cannot meet their basic needs. Some have no roof over their heads and struggle to eat even two meals a day—something unimaginable to others. During a multimedia production project last semester, I spent a day with construction workers in Dhaka. I was shocked to see their working conditions. They labor under the scorching sun, boiling coal for pitch—a task in an unbearably hot and unsafe environment. I asked them how they endure it, and they replied, “It is our work, and we are bound to do it.” This is their reality—a harsh one—and it’s part of ours too. Another reality is the inequality faced by women. Women are often subjected to physical and mental abuse, a grim truth shaped by societal norms. Many people believe women are incapable of doing certain things and expect them to follow rules created by men. But this isn’t real to me. I believe I’m a smart woman, pursuing my education, and I will do what I want. What others think about me doesn’t concern me. My reality is that I live according to my beliefs and aspirations. Living in Dhaka presents its own challenges. The endless traffic jams, corruption, and issues with law enforcement are often accepted as unchangeable realities. However, I believe these are constructed illusions. We have solutions, but we don’t try to implement them. Instead, we have normalized these problems as part of our reality. For me, reality is something entirely different. I strive to evaluate things using my knowledge and reasoning. I refuse to accept illusions or blindly follow societal constructs. Reality, to me, is not external—it is deeply personal. It is what I am and my existance.