Pondicherry - Dalit Camera, a pioneering YouTube platform launched in 2011 by Raees Muhammed, once stood as an unflinching voice for the marginalized, documenting the struggles, protests, and lived experiences of Dalit communities across India.

With over 2,000 videos and nearly 99,220 subscribers, the channel carved a niche by amplifying firsthand narratives from the ground—be it protests for justice for Rohith Vemula, the Beef Festival at Osmania University, or the untouchability walls of Sandaiyur and Mettupalayam.

Its impact transcended social media, with several of its videos finding space in mainstream outlets and coverage by global platforms like BBC, Frontline, and Al Jazeera.

Despite its significant role in shaping conversations around social justice, Dalit Camera has remained inactive for years, leaving a void in the digital media landscape for grassroots voices of dissent. What led to this silence?

In an insightful conversation with Freelance Journalist Hanan Shanavas, Raees Muhammed reflects on his motivations, the challenges of sustaining such a platform, and his journey—one that spans from being a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Southampton to establishing a sanitation workers' union and running a septic tank cleaning business in Tamil Nadu’s Nilgiri District.

He also candidly discusses the intersections of his personal choices, including his conversion to Islam, with the trajectory of Dalit Camera and its legacy.

In this interview, Hanan addresses him as Raees Muhammad, respecting his current preference. However, he has chosen to retain Ravichandran Bathran as part of his identity, arguing that it embodies a profound history—a narrative of pain, suffering, and love—that he believes should remain integral and not be overshadowed by his present name.

What inspired you to start Dalit Camera in 2011, and how did the platform come into being?

Raees Muhammed (Ravichandran): To understand Dalit Camera, I need to start with my experiences during my BA in English Literature at Government Arts College, Coimbatore. Financial constraints led me to work part-time at a photo studio and as a light boy at weddings. Despite working for nearly two years, the photographers and videographers never allowed me to learn their craft. These experiences planted the seeds of what would later become Dalit Camera.

For higher studies, I joined CIEFL (now EFLU) and completed my MA, MPhil, and PhD there between 2004 and 2013. It was at CIEFL that I was introduced to Dr. B.R. Ambedkar’s works and the pervasive caste violence in India. Coming from the Chakkiliyar caste—historically associated with sanitation work, a profession my parents engaged in—I began to see sanitation and caste through a critical lens. Influenced by vibrant faculty members like Prof. Javeed Alam, Prof. Susie Tharu, and Prof. Sathyanarayan, I realized the importance of addressing these issues.

Initially, I believed that change could come through the student union. As General Secretary of a Dalit organization on campus, I tried to address students' concerns, organized lectures, and mobilized faculty and non-teaching staff as mentors. However, I soon realized that deep-rooted issues like caste and sanitation couldn't be resolved through university mechanisms alone—they needed broader social movements. This realization led me to join the Dalit Adivasi Bahujan and Minority Students Association (DABMSA), which had become inactive by then.

While leading DABMSA, I organized lectures on various topics, such as Palestine, Kashmir, and the Babri Masjid, inviting speakers like Asaduddin Owaisi. However, these events often faced criticism, especially from within Dalit circles, for addressing Muslim issues or involving left-leaning activists. Despite the challenges, I continued, with significant support from mentors like Dr. Jenny Rowena and Dr. Hany Babu.

The idea of Dalit Camera came from my background in videography. I realized the importance of archiving voices and events that often go unheard. This realization hit me when a Chakkiliyar panchayat president in Tamil Nadu was attacked by caste Hindus for simply doing her duty. Her story received little attention, even from Dalit activists, which motivated me to document suppressed voices systematically.

Initially, I recorded and uploaded videos of protests and events on the DABMSA YouTube channel without any thought of fame or virality. It was Dr. Hany Babu who suggested naming the channel Dalit Camera, and I added the tagline “Through Untouchable Eyes.” With time, our work gained recognition across universities like HCU, DU, and JNU, where we were invited to document events. I also traveled across Andhra Pradesh, recording videos on Dalit issues that remain some of the few documented accounts available today.

The core of Dalit Camera was a group of like-minded friends from EFLU who shared my vision. Together, we built a platform that continues to resonate with marginalized communities, even in its dormancy.

Can you talk about the significance of documenting life from the Dalit, Adivasi, Bahujan, and minority perspectives?

In Tamil Nadu today, numerous YouTube channels exist, but Dalit Camera remains unique for inspiring others to start similar platforms. After I returned to Tamil Nadu, these channels began to emerge. In Andhra Pradesh, however, Dalit Camera became inactive for a few years after my departure. While others attempted to create similar content during that time, they did not achieve the same reach.

Our aim was never to monopolize content. We freely shared our material, allowing even mainstream media to use it without cost or copyright restrictions. Our primary goal was to raise awareness about marginalized voices and struggles, not to promote the Dalit Camera brand. To this day, mainstream outlets like NDTV occasionally reach out, seeking speakers on relevant issues, and we help make those connections. Although less active now, we still see ourselves as modern-day messengers, delivering voices that need to be heard.

As students, we operated with limited means, relying on scholarships and modest family earnings. Despite corporate funding offers, we chose self-reliance, learning from past Dalit movements' failures and the successes of leftist movements. We refused external funding and pooled our resources to buy our own camera. This principle of independence was crucial.

We were inspired by the story of a Dalit activist from the 1990s who left a corporate job to serve his community but ended up penniless when support from others never materialized. His experience underscored the importance of sustainable financial planning for our work.

Encouragement from others kept us motivated despite challenges. I recall an email from someone in the U.S. who apologized for mistreating me in the past and commended our work. Similarly, Sarath Nalgindi, a musician criticized for creating music from unconventional instruments, found support when I invited him to write a song about beef for a program, which became his "Beef Anthem."

Dalit Camera's significance lies in providing a space for marginalized voices—an opportunity many lack even in their own homes. By showcasing their pain and talents, we bring their stories to the forefront.

Over time, while archiving videos, I found myself emotionally invested in these movements, which shaped my understanding of caste issues. After completing my PhD, Dalit Camera was managed by Muslims and non-Dalits. This team, composed entirely of women, traveled to states like Gujarat, Uttar Pradesh, and Maharashtra, continuing the documentation.

However, practical challenges emerged. Our growing family responsibilities required financial stability. On a deeper level, I realized that while we had successfully documented atrocities, these atrocities continued to occur. The issue wasn’t a lack of media attention but a more fundamental problem within the movements themselves.

As I shifted focus to sanitation and caste issues, I began to believe that caste in India persists because the system is rooted in hate. The solution, I realized, lies in fostering love, affection, and understanding—values that need to take center stage if real change is to occur.

How has the mission of Dalit Camera evolved since its founding?

The growth of Dalit Camera is deeply intertwined with my own personal evolution. As I have developed ideologically, so has the platform. In many ways, my life and Dalit Camera are inseparable. The ideas, visions, and experiences I’ve shared with friends have significantly shaped its journey over the years.

One pivotal milestone I recall is the Supreme Court’s judgment on the sub-classification among Scheduled Castes (SCs). The ruling acknowledged the need to address disparities within the broader Dalit community by providing tailored benefits to specific sub-groups. It emphasized the importance of using empirical data to identify the most disadvantaged sub-castes, enabling state governments to implement more precise reservations in education and employment.

Dalit Camera played a key role in this discourse by documenting and amplifying the diverse experiences and challenges faced by different Dalit communities. Our work contributed to the push for more inclusive and equitable policies aligned with the Court's decision. Notably, the article referenced in the Supreme Court judgment was based on a story I wrote, which, in turn, drew from Dalit Camera’s videos.

This recognition by the Court underscores the importance of documenting and highlighting atrocities. It affirms the impact of Dalit Camera in bringing marginalized voices to the forefront of public and judicial attention.

How do you handle the backlash or opposition, particularly when dealing with sensitive subjects like caste?

I don’t take negative comments too seriously. In fact, I used to encourage them by constantly engaging with the feedback. That was how we conveyed our ideologies in the early days—by interacting with both supporters and critics. However, these days, for a long time now, I don’t even read the comments.

Do you think the rise of social media helped or hindered the mission of Dalit Camera?

I believe that all social movements and the mediums helping their evolution , especially those addressing marginalization, need to understand and utilize technology. Unfortunately, we didn’t, and even now, we are still trying to learn more about it. We didn’t spend enough time using platforms like Twitter, Instagram, WhatsApp, or even tools like Photoshop or Adobe software to their full potential. We didn’t have the time to focus on these aspects because I’ve been running a septic tank cleaning business. I’ve only planned to fully concentrate on Dalit Camera once the business is stable and provides a reliable income. Right now, we are working on that, and once we have some financial stability and savings, our team will actively restart with renewed focus and contributions.

What advice would you give to young journalists or activists who want to document stories from marginalized communities?

Who is there nowadays? The college generation today feels quite different from ours. During our time, there were many activists and vocal leaders, but such individuals are hard to find now. The work of Dalit Camera isn’t something every activist is willing to take on, as documenting a victim’s story requires truly immersing oneself in their experience. Dalits don’t want to be treated as mere subjects in front of a camera; they want someone who genuinely becomes part of their struggles.

In our years, there were students who were curious and deeply serious about these issues. Universities, however, are no longer the democratic spaces they once were. The atmosphere has changed, and students now seem reluctant to express dissent or protest. Many appear resigned to simply living with the status quo.

I remember people like Ria De, Greeshma, Dharma Theja, Thahir Jamal, Sadique Mampad, Aneesh, and George Kurivila Roy as some of the most inquisitive students of that time, who engaged deeply with issues and integrated them into their academic pursuits. Yet, I feel we may have failed to inspire the next generation to follow in our footsteps. It also seems that either major campus issues are no longer happening or they are being actively suppressed.

I can only speculate, as I am not constantly engaged with campus spaces nowadays.

What is your analysis of post-Rohith movement campuses in India, especially in light of incidents like the institutional murder of Professor Samarveer at DU, who was dismissed under the pretext of appointing permanent faculty? As a vocal advocate and minority, his case went unnoticed by mainstream media until The Quint and Maktoob Media reported it.

It may indeed be a failure on Dalit Camera's part. The reason we took a long break is that after attending a protest in Delhi and filming some social issues, we found that the people involved in the movement were unwilling to address those issues. At that time, it felt like the same atrocities were recurring, but we weren’t allowed to ask anything. They claimed it was becoming "too communal." This made me realize there was an ideological issue—simply covering daily events like news reporters wasn’t enough. As atrocities continued, we sought to identify their root causes. When we couldn’t find these roots, we decided to stop our coverage. We felt there was a flaw in the approach of social movements. When atrocities happen, the typical response is to protest, go to court, and deal with the police, but these actions are often not followed through—just filing an FIR and then sitting back.

I discovered that sanitation issues are fundamental because only when people's basic needs are met can they advocate for other social causes. We aimed to address this overlooked issue, which no one else seemed to question. I returned to working as a laborer in sanitation and eventually started a septic tank cleaning business. I helped start a trade union. During that time, money wasn’t our central focus; we were ideologically moving forward. My research indicated that the septic tank business was viable. For the last two months, my partner has been managing the business while I shift my focus back to Dalit Camera.

Now, I’ve started studying law at IMT Law College in Kerala. I believe it’s important to understand the law and the Indian Constitution before I pass away because the law often presents challenges wherever I go. The Constitution should serve as the foundational text for marginalized communities. By studying it, individuals can cultivate self-respect. I think everyone should study law; Ambedkar’s understanding of the Constitution reflects this belief. He wasn’t merely a statesman; during constitutional debates, he stated that he would be the first to burn it. Yet, he advocated for its importance, hoping that one day equality, fraternity, and social justice would be realized.

Our next mission at Dalit Camera is to locate the very first statue of Ambedkar holding the Constitution; that is our next target.

-Hanan hails from Kozhikode, Kerala, and is currently pursuing an MA in Mass Communication at Pondicherry University.