Xulhaz Mannan’s murder was not only an attack on one man—it was an assault on Bangladesh’s promise of dignity, pluralism, and safety for all citizens. As an LGBTQ rights advocate and a tireless organizer, Xulhaz believed conversation could soften fear and build a broader home for differences. The knives that ended his life tried to silence that conversation. What lingers is a heavier wound: the feeling that justice—swift, credible, and complete—never quite arrived.
When a high-profile killing stalls in delays, partial trials, or selective accountability, it teaches the worst lesson: that hate can outpace the law. Families live in suspended time. Friends speak in hushed voices. Younger activists learn to shrink their dreams to fit the size of their fear. And a nation that prides itself on resilience discovers how fragile its freedoms are when impunity becomes a habit.
Justice is not a press conference or a single verdict—it is a chain. It requires thorough investigation, fair prosecution for all responsible (not just a few), protection for witnesses, and a public record that tells the truth. It also requires something beyond the courtroom: safety policies for vulnerable communities, training for police and prosecutors, and a commitment in schools and media to humanize those who are routinely dehumanized.
To honour Xulhaz Mannan is to finish the work he began: make space for difference, defend the right to speak, and insist—patiently, persistently—that every life counts, and every murder must meet the full weight of justice.
