Claimed by all, heard by none:Kashmiris push back against erasure and control

A simple Google search of “Kashmir” is enough to leave you overwhelmed. Headlines with terms like “India-Pakistan war,” “nuclear flashpoint,” “India claims,” and “Pakistan denies” are widespread. If you are lucky, an article might address China’s involvement. One thing that you are less likely to come across, however, is commentary from Kashmiris themselves, explaining their experience and desires on their own terms.

As a member of the Kashmiri diaspora myself, I feel well-placed to assure you that this is neither new nor unique to what’s happening in 2025. 

The silencing of Kashmiris has been ongoing for years, part of a deliberate strategy to strip us of our right to self-determination. But the voices of Kashmiris cut through this noise, revealing a harsh reality: both India and Pakistan have used Kashmiris as pawns in their political games for far too long. Kashmiris hold a unique position, and when given the opportunity to be heard, they compel the world to confront the complex consequences of a global order divided by nation-states.

Kashmir is a heavily disputed region, with India, Pakistan, and China each claiming ownership and occupying different parts of its territory. Since the partition of British India, India and Pakistan have fought three wars over Kashmir, while India and China have engaged in one war over the Ladakh region of Kashmir. For decades, Kashmir has endured occupation, intense militarisation, political repression, and ongoing human rights violations. While nationalist narratives often reduce Kashmir to a territorial dispute, Kashmiris continue to assert a distinct identity and call for their right to self-determination.

Motivated to contribute to the ongoing conversation about Kashmir, I set out to create the kind of piece I wished existed. While history remains essential, I wasn’t interested in writing yet another summary of Kashmir’s past. Instead, I thought: why not ask Kashmiris themselves what they have to say today? 

I believe my conversations may offer more insight than a political timeline ever could. I set out to interview Kashmiris from both Indian-occupied Kashmir (IOK) and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (POK), including those on the ground, recent arrivals to the UK, and members of the broader diaspora within the UK.

Erasure and silencing 

Kashmir has made international headlines for the first time in six years, since India revoked its special status and Indian-administered Kashmir was plunged into a months-long blackout. 

Yet, despite this coverage, the narrative is often reduced to an India versus Pakistan debate, ignoring the people of Kashmir and their long struggle for self-determination. While news and analysis focus on missile strikes and the risk of nuclear war, those who have been killed, arrested en masse, and subjected to abuse receive little to no attention. The Kashmiris I spoke to echoed my sentiments, expressing fatigue with the age-old recycled narratives. “It’s been decades,” says Yusuf, a member of the IOK diaspora, “and there is still no acknowledgement of those who have been the main victims of any escalation between Pakistan and India: the Kashmiris.”

Kashmiris recognise these tactics as components of a broader effort to normalise the occupation. “The sensational dramatisation of conflict between the two nuclear powers in mainstream media benefits the goal of occupiers: the erasure of Kashmiris to allow occupation to continue without contradiction,” says Ayesha, another IOK diaspora member I spoke with.

We see this in headlines like “Calm returns to Kashmir” following the announcement of a ceasefire. While many Kashmiris are glad their identity isn’t reduced to conflict, calling an ongoing occupation “calm” is deeply misleading. 

This narrative persists because media coverage overlooks the daily realities of life in one of the most heavily militarised regions in the world. Kashmir stands at a critical juncture, revealing deeper fractures in the global order. If the media began treating Kashmiris as a people in their own right, giving space to speak against occupation, who might be emboldened next? Because occupation and state violence are not isolated to Kashmir: they are tools used globally to silence the marginalised. Our struggles are linked, and the fight for one people’s freedom is part of the fight for collective liberation.

“Why can’t you just pick a side?” The importance of Kashmiri identity

Historical context is crucial for understanding any occupation or political issue, and Kashmir is no exception. While this article can’t provide a complete history, it’s important to note that in a region where diverse religions, ethnicities, and cultures had long coexisted, the legacy of British colonialism, marked by divide-and-rule tactics, culminated via a prolonged decolonisation struggle. In August 1947, India and Pakistan were born through the Partition of British India. This process was both bloody and violent, leading to one of the largest human migrations in history. The trauma of Partition was immense, and its intergenerational effects are still deeply felt today. 

Growing up in the Kashmiri diaspora means being compelled from an early age to critically question the concepts of nations, maps, and borders. Simply put, when your friends can easily point to their countries on a map, it isn’t as straightforward for you. Several people I spoke to emphasised that Kashmir exemplifies the challenges and issues caused by imposed borders. 

“Kashmir challenges the idea of nationhood,” says Aqsa, a member of the POK diaspora. “In the Eastern world, our countries weren’t originally based on the concept of nation-states; this was later imposed on us via colonialism and the struggle for independence.” 

They continue: “Kashmir is a clear example of how forcing borders on people fails. It remains a key example of colonialism in the subcontinent and a lasting wound from the British Empire in South Asia.” 

During British colonial rule, Kashmir was not directly governed by the British but existed as a princely state under their influence. When India and Pakistan were born in 1947, Kashmir initially remained independent from either nation. With a Hindu ruler presiding over a Muslim-majority population and its geographic position allowing for potential accession to either newly formed nations, Kashmir found itself at a crossroads. It existed in limbo from August to October 1947, neither part of India nor Pakistan. 

Meanwhile, both nations claimed it as their own, each asserting that Kashmir was essential to their national identity for various reasons. Eventually, the Hindu ruler of Muslim-majority Kashmir, Maharaja Hari Singh, acceded to India under mounting pressure. This decision came in the wake of the 1947 Jammu massacre, where tens of thousands of Muslims were killed in an act of ethnic cleansing, carried out with the support of the Maharaja’s forces in an attempt to alter the region’s demographic makeup of being a Muslim majority region. In response, tribal militias from Pakistan entered Kashmir to protect Muslim communities. While seen by some as a defence of fellow Muslims, these incursions were portrayed by India as an invasion, further justifying its military intervention and the Maharaja’s accession.

India and Pakistan have continued to claim ownership over the entirety of Kashmir and have since fought three wars directly related to Kashmir. The recurring politicisation of Kashmiri identity, as many shared, underscores how profoundly daily life is affected by the ongoing occupation and the national tensions surrounding it. This was mirrored in a conversation I had with Dar, a member of the IOK. “People often want me to pick between India and Pakistan,” they say, “but my answer is neither. I choose independence. It’s a view held by many Kashmiris, but we are never given it as an option.” 

After the first war, the United Nations Security Council passed a resolution in 1948 calling for a plebiscite vote in Jammu and Kashmir to allow its people to decide their future: whether to join India or Pakistan. 77 years later, this plebiscite has never been held. Three wars have occurred, and borders have been created, changed, and moved to split families in half, with the most recent ‘border’, being the Line of Control imposed in 1972 . This creates complications for Kashmiris, as Nazia – who lives in London, but is from IOK – tells me: “There’s a constant tension in trying to present who I am without being boxed into someone else’s narrative. Almost every introduction comes with a sense of judgement or a political lens, which makes something as simple as saying where I’m from feel heavier than it should be.”

In a world shaped by the relatively modern concept of the nation state, many people struggle to imagine identities outside its framework. Many communities – from Puerto Ricans to Uyghurs, Hawaiians to Palestinians, Kurds to Tibetans – often face similar questions: Why is your identity so complicated? Can’t you just say what passport you hold? But identity is more than an officially recognised flag, lyrics to an anthem or papers with red stamps; it’s deeply felt, rooted in a people’s history, culture, and sense of belonging.

Haroon, a member of the IOK diaspora, notes, “I often receive responses like: so…India?” While he enjoys spreading awareness about the lesser-known history of Kashmir, he tells me “it can be exhausting to explain constantly.” It’s the same for people from POK. Sadia explains: “Many of my Pakistani friends don’t understand why it’s important to identify myself with Kashmir rather than Pakistan.”

For Kashmiris, a national label cannot capture the depth of their history and lived experience. In Indian-occupied Kashmir, one of the most militarised zones in the world, the state simultaneously claims the region as an integral part of India while subjecting its people to systemic oppression, enforced disappearances, and torture. 

In such a context, simply asserting your Kashmiri identity can provoke unsettling, even hostile, reactions. Most Kashmiris I spoke to expressed excitement when meeting someone who had never heard of Kashmir, seeing it as a chance to share and teach. 

But as Alina – from IOK, currently living in London – remarked, conversations about Kashmiri identity are often more challenging with those already familiar with the region, especially those with strong nationalist sentiments tied to their own South Asian nation-states. “Speaking with Indians and Pakistanis alike makes me realise how much their nationalism is reliant upon Kashmir as a land that is grabbable, not a Kashmir where its people, the Kashmiris, have dreams, aspirations and livelihoods of their own.”

Holding onto home

On top of the already significant challenge of justifying why identifying as Kashmiri matters rather than simply saying Pakistani or Indian, there’s the added struggle of preserving Kashmiri culture in the diaspora, especially for second, third, or later generations. Like many communities shaped by migration or exile, the risk of cultural loss becomes too real. For some I spoke to, Kashmiri culture is preserved through growing up in close-knit communities of fellow Kashmiris, where the living memories of elders help keep traditions alive.

This was the case for POK diaspora member Sadia. Reflecting on their upbringing in the North West of England, where there’s a strong community of Kashmiri Mirpuris, they explain how this impacted local culture. “From local slang, to food, to weddings and funerals, to the supermarkets, to the mosques, everything is still strongly infused with our inherited Kashmiri culture,” Sadia says. “Growing up, stories of ‘home’ preserved by elders kept the memory of Kashmir alive.”

But for those who didn’t grow up within a large Kashmiri diaspora, their continued attachment to a Kashmiri identity can be met with confusion, especially since they haven’t lived under occupation themselves or when ‘choosing a side’ is seen by some as easier. Internal tensions and divisions sown by national narratives often turn the very act of identifying as Kashmiri into its own kind of territorial struggle. 

I, along with many diaspora Kashmiris I spoke to, shared this sentiment. “There’s a great deal of gatekeeping around who gets to claim the label of being Kashmiri,” says Aqsa of the POK diaspora. “For someone in the diaspora, it can be a disorienting and challenging space to navigate, constantly having to prove a connection to a homeland steadily eroded by the surrounding nation-states.”

Qasim, another member of the POK diaspora shared similar reflections. “When I say I identify as Kashmiri rather than Pakistani, I’m often met with accusatory questions about which part I’m from, as if only some regions have the right to claim Kashmiri identity, and others are just seeking attention,” they reveal. 

Migration patterns can be complex, with many journeys involving multiple stops before reaching a current home. This often leaves some Kashmiris in the diaspora questioning whether their voices and experiences truly represent Kashmiri identity, making them hesitant to share their stories. This feeling resonated with me. It underscores how the intricacies of migration and identity can lead even those who identify as Kashmiri to doubt their place within the community and the validity of their experiences. While some Kashmiris shared their migration history and questioned whether I would find it relevant for this article, I insisted it was essential to include. 

One thing remained constant in my conversations with Kashmiris: regardless of which side of the Line of Control they’re from, how many generations removed they are, how fluent they are in their mother tongue, or how often they’ve faced backlash for claiming their identity: they all continue to speak out and call for an end to the occupation of Kashmir.

For Kashmiris, the term ‘post-colonialism’ is a myth

For decades, IOK has remained the world’s most militarised zone, with Indian troops continuing to pour in. If the state considered it an ordinary part of its territory, such a heavy military presence wouldn’t be necessary. The contradiction speaks for itself: this is not integration; it’s occupation. When I asked what connects Kashmir to colonialism, Bassam – from IOK and currently in Srinagar – tells me: “The struggle of Kashmiris is a struggle for dignity amongst countries that refuse to see them beyond their geopolitical utility. That is theft. Theft is colonialism.” 

The scale of human rights abuses in Kashmir is vast enough to demand a detailed account. At the heart of this repression is a legal framework that grants the Indian soldiers unchecked authority. 

The Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA), enforced in areas deemed “disturbed,” allows the military to arrest without a warrant, search homes without judicial oversight, and use lethal force, all with complete legal immunity. Further legal tools like the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA) further entrench this climate of fear. 

The act allows the government to detain individuals for extended periods without trial or bail. It is frequently used against Kashmiris whether it be human rights activists such as Khurram Parvez, now detained for three and a half years, or for sometimes for nothing more than voicing support for independence online. This systemic violence alters the trajectories of people’s lives and development. Some Kashmiris I spoke to recalled exams being postponed or communication with family being cut off. Nazia, who grew up in IOK, recalled: “Missing school because of curfews, hearing pellet shots in the background while doing homework, having no internet for months, somehow it just became everyday life.” 

Life under these conditions is marked by constant surveillance. Kashmir has experienced years of curfews and lockdowns, and what has been described as the world’s first mass blinding campaign. Indian forces fired pellet guns at civilians, often aiming at the face, leaving Kashmiris, including children, permanently blind. Enforced disappearances and unmarked mass graves have become tragically familiar. 

The term “half-widow” originated in Kashmir to describe women whose husbands were taken by the state and never seen again, leaving them without closure or recognition. As always, the consequences fall on ordinary Kashmiris. These laws have fundamentally disrupted the paths of their daily lives and futures, yet the Kashmiris I spoke to, like Alina from IOK, continue to persist. “Memories of my childhood in Kashmir still leave me speechless. At times, I find myself in denial about the harsh reality of life back home. It shouldn’t be like that; suppressed, surveilled, as though you are suffocating,” she shared. 

In 2019, this repression entered a new phase when the Indian government revoked Article 370 of its constitution, a provision that had granted Kashmir limited autonomy and special status. Overnight, India stripped the region of its constitutional protections, divided it into two separate union territories, and brought it under direct central rule, treating it as though it were any other Indian state. For some diaspora Kashmiris, this was a turning point as they witnessed both the harshness of the rule and how normalised it had become for their families. 

An unprecedented communications blackout accompanied this move. Mobile networks and internet services were cut off for over six months, silencing an entire population from reaching the outside world. Alongside these changes, the legal protections that once prevented non-Kashmiris from purchasing land were revoked, allowing outsiders to buy property in the region. Kashmiris widely condemned this move as the formal beginning of a settler colonial project. While many had long warned of this trajectory, 2019 made it undeniably visible to the rest of the world. While this topic warrants deeper exploration, one thing is clear: despite widespread talk of a ‘post-colonial’ world, Kashmiris continue to live under the reality of active colonial occupation.

Moving forward

When I asked Kashmiris what they wished the world knew about Kashmir, many spoke of the region’s beauty, its rich culture, and the resilience of its people. Nazia’s response in particular was especially moving. “It’s easy for people to see Kashmir as a place of war, but what’s often overlooked is the strength that comes from living through that,” they say. “The ability to keep going, hoping, and celebrating life even when it feels like the world is against you.”

Although the most recent escalation of 2025 seems to have drawn to a close, one truth remains: Kashmir will still be under occupation, and Kashmiris will continue to face targeting and oppression. On both sides of the Line of Control, the empty spaces where someone once sipped their tea or relaxed outside now serve as painful reminders of the void created by war and occupation.

The boy who has lost his brother, the daughter who has lost her father, the mother mourning her third son to be killed, and the family that has lost their home: these are the lasting scars of an occupation that continues to devastate lives. And yet, the people of Kashmir continue to live their lives as they always have, enduring conditions they have been subjected to for over 78 years. “There’s a complexity of being Kashmiri,” says Nazia. “It’s hope in the face of trauma, and the beauty that’s constantly being suppressed but never fully erased. There’s more to Kashmir than the headlines, and that’s something I wish everyone could see.”

As a reader it is easy to feel confused or powerless: if this has continued for so long, what can I possibly do? As global citizens, it is our responsibility to educate ourselves about Kashmir, listen to Kashmiri voices, learn from their experiences, and unequivocally condemn the ongoing occupation and human rights abuses against the Kashmiri people. 

Beyond this, we must also celebrate the rich beauty of Kashmiri culture, whether through its cuisine, poetry, intricate embroidery, or breathtaking landscapes, and give credit where it is due. Amidst all the hardship, we must remember that Kashmiris continue to endure with resilience and find moments of joy. 

Above all, the Kashmiri people persist in their unwavering struggle for liberation and justice and for the right to decide their future for themselves, as declared by Ameer, who is part of the POK diaspora: “Colonialism stole our right to decide our future, but our identity fuels our fight for a sovereign, united Kashmir where all Kashmiris – Muslim, Hindu, Sikh, or Buddhist – can live as one.” 

I am deeply grateful to the Kashmiris who responded to my call for this article and generously shared their voices and insights throughout the process.