English and Power: Why the Language We Teach Is Never Just a Language

When I sit across from a learner, I am never simply teaching vocabulary or grammar. I am sitting at the intersection of history, power, and human aspiration. After years of teaching English in Bangladesh, working as a translator, and practicing theater as a form of communication, I have come to see English not as a neutral tool but as a deeply political one — and that changes everything about how I teach it.

In a society like Bangladesh, English is a paradox. It opens doors — to universities, to global opportunities, to digital spaces, to professional worlds that would otherwise remain out of reach. And yet those very doors remain closed to the many people who never had access to quality English education in the first place. The language that promises freedom simultaneously enforces a quiet, persistent hierarchy. Those who speak it fluently move forward. Those who do not are left behind — not because of intelligence or ambition, but because of geography, income, and the accident of which school they attended.

What makes this more complicated is that English in Bangladesh is no longer simply a colonial leftover. It has been absorbed, reshaped, and made our own. Our writers use it to speak to the world. Our scholars use it to enter global conversations. Our young people use it to build identities that are simultaneously local and global. English, in this sense, belongs to us as much as it belongs to anyone.

But belonging to a language and having equal access to it are two very different things. That gap — between who English belongs to and who can actually use it with confidence — is where I believe the real work of a language educator lies. The answer is not to reject English, nor to treat it as inherently superior to Bengali or any other language. The answer is to teach it critically, contextually, and inclusively — in ways that give learners genuine power without asking them to abandon who they are.

For me, the classroom has always been a space where language and identity meet. The future of English education in postcolonial societies must honour that meeting place — building pedagogies that are culturally rooted, socially aware, and genuinely liberating.