13/10/2026
Rebellion: A Lifetime of Resistance, Solidarity and Social Justice
I am proud to be part of Rebellion, a documentary that revisits an important chapter in the history of anti-racist activism and the struggles of young people from Asian communities in Bradford. The film launches at the London Film Festival on 14 October 2026. For me, this is more than a reflection on the past. It is an opportunity to share the experiences that shaped my life, my commitment to equality and social justice, and my belief in the power of communities to stand together in the face of injustice.
My early experiences and the roots of activism
My commitment to social justice began long before my professional career. Growing up in a migrant family, I often found myself helping my parents navigate systems and institutions that were unfamiliar, complicated and, at times, unwelcoming. This included education, housing, immigration, welfare and the NHS. As I grew older, I also helped neighbours and other members of the wider Asian community who faced similar difficulties.
Through these experiences, I witnessed racism not only on the streets and in schools, but also in the way institutions and systems could treat people unfairly. I came to understand that inequality was not simply a matter of individual prejudice; it could be embedded in policies, practices and the structures of society.
These experiences helped shape my understanding of solidarity, collective action and the importance of challenging injustice. They also influenced my involvement with the United Black Youth League (UBYL) in Bradford during the 1970s and 1980s.
United Black Youth League: Building solidarity
UBYL emerged from the Asian Movement in Bradford at a time when many young people were organising to challenge racism, discrimination and the threat of fascism. The word “Black” was used as a political term of solidarity, bringing together people of colour who shared experiences of racism and exclusion, rather than referring only to people of African heritage.
For many of us, activism was not an abstract political exercise. It was rooted in our everyday experiences, our families’ struggles and our determination to protect our communities and secure a fairer future.
UBYL was involved in campaigns that demonstrated the importance of community organising, public awareness, legal support and collective action. Two campaigns remain particularly significant in understanding that period: the campaign to reunite Anwar Ditta with her children, and the Bradford 12 case.
The Anwar Ditta campaign: A mother’s fight for her children
The campaign to reunite Anwar Ditta with her children was a powerful example of how ordinary people could challenge institutional injustice through collective action.
Anwar Ditta, a British-born Asian woman living in Rochdale, applied in 1976 for her three children, who had been born in Pakistan, to join her and her husband in Britain. In May 1979, the Home Office refused the application, stating that it was not satisfied that the children were hers. Subsequent appeals were unsuccessful.
The case exposed the devastating consequences that immigration decisions could have for families. A mother was separated from her children while having to fight to prove her own relationship with them.
Through community campaigning, legal support and media attention, including the involvement of solicitor Ruth Bundey, barrister Ian McDonald and Granada Television’s World in Action, the case gained wider public attention. Serological testing provided evidence supporting Anwar Ditta’s claim that the children were hers. Following the broadcast of These Children Are Mine in March 1981, the Home Office reversed its decision and visas were issued.
Anwar Ditta was reunited with her children at Manchester Airport in April 1981.
For me, this campaign illustrates what can be achieved when communities refuse to accept injustice as inevitable. It showed the importance of standing alongside people whose voices might otherwise be ignored, and of bringing together legal expertise, public campaigning and community solidarity to challenge unfair decisions.
The Bradford 12: Resistance, self-defence and the struggle against racism
The Bradford 12 case is central to Rebellion and to the history of the anti-racist movement in which I was involved.
In 1981, twelve young men associated with UBYL were charged with conspiracy to cause explosions and endanger lives after 38 milk-bottle petrol bombs were made on 11 July. The young men argued that their actions were intended as a means of defending their community against a rumoured march by far-right, racist skinheads. They believed that their community faced a real threat and that they could not rely on adequate protection.
The march did not take place, and the petrol bombs were never used. The case nevertheless raised difficult and important questions about racism, community safety, the right to self-defence and the circumstances in which young people feel compelled to protect themselves and others.
The campaign supporting the Bradford 12 became associated with the slogan “Self-defence is no offence.” It brought attention to the fears experienced by communities facing racist intimidation and challenged wider society to consider the circumstances that had led these young men to take the actions they did.
Looking back, it is important to understand the Bradford 12 case within its historical context: the lived experiences of racism, the climate of far-right activity and the determination of young people to protect their families and communities. Understanding that context does not require us to simplify the issues. Rather, it asks us to confront the difficult questions about safety, justice, racism and the responsibilities of the state towards all its citizens.
The campaign became an important part of the wider history of grassroots anti-racist organising in Britain. For those of us who were involved, it remains a reminder of the courage, conviction and collective effort that community activism can demand.
A lifetime of working towards equality
My involvement in activism did not end with my younger years. Throughout my professional life, I have continued to work towards addressing inequalities, including through roles in local government and the NHS. My work has been nationally recognised, but the underlying motivation has remained consistent: to challenge unfairness, improve people’s experiences of public services and help create institutions and communities where everyone is treated with dignity and respect.
My professional experience has reinforced what I learned through community activism. Inequality cannot be addressed through words alone. It requires sustained commitment, practical action, listening to the people most affected and a willingness to challenge systems and practices that disadvantage particular communities.
It has also taught me that lasting change requires people to work across communities and institutions, build relationships and develop solutions that respond to the realities of people’s lives.
Turning personal loss into a commitment to do good
There is also a deeply personal reason why my involvement with Moonlight Trust means so much to me.
Our family has experienced the devastating loss of two cousins, Naveed and Adeel, who were very close and only a year apart in age. Naveed died in 1998, aged just 13, from a rare blood disorder. Adeel died in 2024, aged 40, from pancreatic cancer. Both were taken far too soon, leaving a profound sense of loss for everyone who loved them.
I often think about the lives they might have lived and the good they might have gone on to do had they been given more time. I believe they had so much to offer. In my own way, I want to honour their memory by continuing to do good in the world, helping others and contributing to work that makes a meaningful difference to people’s lives.
This is one of the reasons I felt such a strong connection to Moonlight Trust. When I learned about Noushin Raja’s decision to establish the charity in memory of her 17-year-old brother, who was murdered in Dewsbury, I recognised something deeply human in her response to personal tragedy: the determination to turn grief into something positive that could help others.
Although our losses were different, I understood the desire to ensure that the lives of those we have lost continue to mean something through the good we do for others.
For me, contributing to Moonlight Trust is therefore more than a role or a responsibility. It is also a way of honouring Naveed and Adeel, keeping their memory alive through acts of compassion, solidarity and service. I want the work I do to reflect the kindness, possibility and contribution that their lives represented.
This personal motivation sits alongside my lifelong commitment to equality, social justice and community activism. It reinforces my belief that, even in the face of profound loss, we can choose to build something positive: supporting people in need, empowering communities and helping create a better future for others.
In this sense, Moonlight Trust brings together two things that matter enormously to me: a lifetime of working towards social justice and a personal desire to honour the lives of people we have lost by making a difference to the lives of those who are still here.
Moonlight Trust: Turning solidarity into action
I was invited by Noushin to join the board of Moonlight Trust around three years ago. What drew me to the charity was not simply its commitment to helping people in need, but the values and purpose behind its work.
Founded by Noushin in memory of her brother, Moonlight Trust began by feeding people experiencing homelessness and supporting refugees and asylum seekers. Over time, its work has grown to include bringing communities together, responding to international humanitarian crises and supporting people affected by conflict and natural disasters, as well as addressing needs within local communities across West Yorkshire.
Its work includes supporting vulnerable women through initiatives relating to employability and domestic abuse, contributing to food bank provision, and promoting environmental responsibility through its Green Deen project in Dewsbury, which was featured on BBC Look North. The charity has also supported humanitarian relief efforts in places including Palestine and Syria.
What I value about Moonlight Trust is its commitment to solidarity and partnership. Effective humanitarian and community work is not simply about giving help from a distance. It is about listening to communities, working alongside organisations and people on the ground, responding to actual needs and helping build sustainable solutions that enable people and communities to move forward.
When I joined the board, I wanted to contribute my experience in equality, public services, community activism and strategic thinking to help the organisation develop its work sustainably. I also wanted to bring an understanding of the wider political and social changes that affect communities, including the continuing challenges of racism, discrimination and exclusion.
For me, the work of Moonlight Trust reflects a principle I learned through activism many years ago: solidarity must be translated into action. Whether the challenge is supporting a vulnerable woman locally, helping a family experiencing hardship, responding to a humanitarian emergency or bringing people from different backgrounds together, the starting point is the same. Every person deserves dignity, compassion and the opportunity to live a life free from discrimination and fear.
From UBYL to Moonlight Trust: Why solidarity still matters
Although UBYL and Moonlight Trust operate in different contexts and in different ways, I see an important connection between them. Both reflect the belief that communities can come together to challenge hardship, confront injustice and support people who might otherwise be overlooked.
My experiences with UBYL taught me about collective action, speaking out against racism and standing alongside communities facing intimidation and discrimination. My professional career has continued that work through efforts to address inequality within public services. Moonlight Trust gives me another way to put those values into practice through community support, humanitarian work and partnerships that bring people together.
These commitments remain relevant today. Racism, hostility towards migrants and refugees, and the politics of division continue to affect communities in Britain and across Europe. We must recognise these challenges without losing sight of the importance of building relationships, strengthening communities and creating opportunities for people to work together.
For me, opposing racism is not simply about responding to individual incidents. It also means addressing the conditions that allow discrimination and exclusion to persist. It means challenging unfairness, protecting human dignity and ensuring that people are not denied safety, opportunity or belonging because of their background.
The lesson I carry from my years of activism is that meaningful change rarely comes from one person acting alone. It comes from people organising, supporting one another, building alliances and remaining committed even when progress is difficult.
My involvement in Rebellion has given me an opportunity to reflect on that journey: from my early experiences as a migrant child, to my involvement with UBYL, to my professional work in equality and public service, and now to my contribution to Moonlight Trust.
These are different chapters of my life, but they are connected by a common purpose: to challenge injustice, support people who need help and contribute to a society in which everyone can live with dignity, equality and respect.
I hope that Rebellion encourages people, particularly younger generations, to learn about this history, understand the experiences that shaped it and reflect on the role they can play in creating a fairer society.
The circumstances may change, but the need for solidarity remains. For me, the work continues: through remembrance, through community action and through the everyday commitment to making a positive difference in the lives of others.
Shahnaz Ali
