By Musthakim Ahmed
I didn’t become an atheist to stand out or seek attention. I became one because I
had questions.
I was born and raised in a religious Muslim family in Bangladesh. Islam was not just
a belief—it was a law in our home, in schools, and in society. I followed everything I
was taught I prayed, avoided music, dressed a certain way, and didn’t ask questions.
But deep down, things didn’t make sense.

My Questions Began in My Teenage Years
During my teenage years, I began to ask:
• Why do women have fewer rights than men?
• Why can’t Muslims be friends with people from other religions?
• Why is listening to music or watching movies sinful?
• Why does Islam teach so much fear instead of compassion?
The more I asked, the more isolated I felt. No one gave answers—only warnings:
“Don’t say such things. You’ll get into trouble.”
And in Bangladesh, that warning is real. People like me do get into trouble—serious,
life-threatening trouble.
The Turning Point: Discovering Humanism in University
While studying at university in Bangladesh, I had more exposure to science, critical
thinking, and world philosophy. That’s when I first encountered humanism—the idea
that human rights, compassion, and reason should guide us, not fear or blind
obedience.
I began to realize I didn’t believe in Islam anymore. I believed in freedom, equality,
and rational thought. That is when I started identifying as a humanist and
atheist—privately.
But in Bangladesh, I couldn’t say that openly. I lived with constant fear of being
discovered, judged, or even attacked. I had to keep my true beliefs hidden.
The Freedom I Found in the UK
When I came to the UK for higher education, I finally experienced real freedom—for
the first time, I could live honestly and openly. I didn’t have to pretend. I met people
from different faiths and no faith at all. I was no longer afraid to speak or write about
what I truly believed.
I created a blog, Agnostic World, where I share my thoughts on religion, freedom of
expression, and my personal journey of leaving Islam. I also began sharing on my
Facebook profile, connecting with others who had gone through similar struggles.
What I say online would be protected by free speech in the UK. But in Bangladesh, it
could cost me my freedom—or even my life.

What Happens to People Like Me in Bangladesh?
I’m not the only one. Many people who expressed the same doubts or criticisms
have been brutally punished in Bangladesh:
• Avijit Roy, an atheist writer, was murdered in 2015 by Islamic extremists in
Dhaka for promoting secularism and science.
• Niloy Neel was killed in his own home that same year.
• Washiqur Rahman, Ananta Bijoy Das, and Ahmed Rajib Haider were all
murdered in public by extremists for writing about rationalism.
These were not accidents. These were targeted assassinations.
And instead of protecting people like them, the government passed the Digital
Security Act (2018), which makes it a crime to post anything online that “hurts
religious sentiment.” Under this law, I could be arrested, fined, or imprisoned just for
the views I’ve expressed on my blog and Facebook.

Why I Cannot Go Back
I am now known as an ex-Muslim and atheist online. My blog is public. My name and
face are attached to everything I write. I cannot hide that anymore.
If I return to Bangladesh, I could face:
• Arrest under the Digital Security Act
• Police harassment or surveillance
• Violence from Islamic extremists
• Social rejection, isolation, or threats—even from people close to me
I’ve already been warned by some people back home that I’ve “gone too far.” I know
what that means.

Who I Am Today
Since coming to the UK, I have:
• Completed my university studies
• Worked with the NHS, serving the public with pride
• Lived peacefully and respectfully as a humanist
I don’t seek conflict. I only want to live truthfully, without fear. I want to be in a
country where my beliefs don’t make me a target.