From silence to solidarity: reflecting on the housing struggles of Bangladeshi elders in East London.

Blog written by: Aminur Rahman, BRAG (Bangla Research Advisory member), Amar Bari, Amar Jibon [my home, my life] research project (2022-2025)

Four years ago, I was invited to join the Bangla Research Advisory Group (BRAG) on the three year Amar bari, amar jibon (My home, my life)  research project funded by the Vivensa Foundation and conducted in partnership between The Open University, Bangla Housing Association and the Housing LIN. It has been an honour and a privilege. Entering the project, I had no background in local council policy or housing law. I had experience of research into bilingualism in teenagers but not this level of community focused lived experience. I had a surface-level understanding: I knew we were often "overcrowded" and that getting on the social housing register was a herculean task. However, the depth of the systemic disadvantage I learnt was nothing short of eye-opening.

The stark reality of the numbers

One of the most grounding aspects of this journey was seeing lived experiences translated into cold, hard statistics. The disparity is jarring: while the UK homeownership average is 65%, for the Bangladeshi community, it plummets to 40%. Even more distressing is the data on overcrowding. Bangladeshi households face this at six times the national average. Specifically, while only 2% of White British households are classified as overcrowded, that figure leaps to 24% for our community.

Through this work, I learned the vital distinction between statutory overcrowding (legal) and functional overcrowding (how space is actually used). Functional overcrowding isn’t just a metric; it is a weight that suppresses every generation of a family. It hinders children’s education and strains family relationships. The elder generation quite often lacks dedicated sleeping space and privacy as rooms are doubled or tripled in use, exacerbating physical and mental health issues. The middle generation, caught between these pressures and with no recourse, faces chronic stress and anxiety.  These are aspects of life that are often overlooked when housing is discussed purely in policy terms.

Perhaps most poignantly it limits our religious and cultural life, robbing us of private spaces to pray, the ability to host guests with dignity, and the capacity to maintain traditional gender separation during family gatherings for modesty. It is a forced frugality that eventually breaks our cultural and religious spirit. Especially for the probin generation who are often marginalised due to lack of space and health issues, making them feel helpless.  

The power of co-production

As someone who values education – seeing it become the privilege of a few - participating in the research was deeply empowering. I felt I brought a unique perspective to the table, bridging the gap between the "Probins" (the pioneer generation of my parents) and the digital Gen Z. By translating the nuances and subtleties of the Bangladeshi experience, discussing how those experiences should be interpreted, into a coherent history of struggle, we ensured these ‘stories’ didn't simply "disappear into the night.”

Being a millennial, and more so being born in the UK to immigrant parents, I remember the life and struggles of the 1980s and 1990s for our probins, while also understanding the realities faced by our community today. That perspective allowed me to connect the experiences of our parents, aunts, and uncles with the present day. Helping translate these stories across language, cultural and time barriers felt a meaningful contribution. It was a chance to ensure that the original voices of the community were not misunderstood or simplified. It is a reclamation of our narrative and history, the trepidation and our ongoing struggles for equality in the UK.

From the Oxford conference to the House of Lords

The impact of this work reached heights I never imagined. Presenting our findings at St Anne’s College, Oxford, and launching the report at the House of Lords, was a surreal experience. Standing before academics and policymakers felt like a heavy responsibility, yet it was also a release. By conveying these stories, I was lifting the weight off the shoulders of those I represented with their experiences finally being heard rather than remaining invisible.

One of the most emotional moment was the drama production, Bengali Probin East Enders, based on findings from the research. We intended to disseminate the lived experiences of the probins we interviewed - their experiences, struggles, worries - even though they are retired, as one attendee said, implying the probin should no longer be concerned or worrying about the day-to-day. They couldn’t be further from the truth.  

For younger audience members, it sparked reflection and a sense of sadness and guilt as they realised the burdens their parents are still quietly enduring to protect them and the grandkids. It highlighted the immense love probins have for their families and the sacrifices they make even in old age.  Seeing those intergenerational conversations emerge was something we had not anticipated, but it showed how powerful storytelling can be in bringing hidden experiences into the open. And so, the drama performance became a catalyst for intergenerational healing. Something I hope will now be explored by them so that the history of the probins is not lost and the flag of their pioneering struggles is preserved and inherited by the younger generations for equality in the UK.

The uphill battle for inclusion

If there is one sobering lesson I have taken away, it is that our exclusion is often "baked into" the system, across the board. From cost-saving construction templates to planning laws that ignore multi-generational living, the system is not designed for us. Shockingly, at almost no point in the development process is there a genuine consultation with the community about what they actually need from a home. Homes are designed and built according to existing templates and regulations. This top-down approach means families are forced to adapt to spaces that were never designed with them in mind.

Yet, I leave this project with hope. There are champions within and outside our community who recognise this injustice. High-quality housing is the cornerstone of social and economic growth and prosperity. Change is slow, but by turning individual struggles into a collective, documented history, we have started a movement. We are no longer disappearing quietly. We are standing our ground to ensure the next generation does not have to compromise their health, education, or faith just to have a roof over their heads.

To find out more about the project and to read the findings, visit our project website Amar Bari, Amar Jibon.