ئۇيغۇر دوپپا مەدەنىيەت بايرىمى
By Tahir Imin
The Uyghur Doppa Cultural Festival, first launched on May 4, 2009, has since become a symbol of Uyghur cultural resistance against Chinese assimilation. This festival was not born overnight—it was the product of years of personal struggle, reflection, and the determined effort to preserve and promote Uyghur identity and heritage.
During my years in Urumqi, especially while attending public events at Mengu Tash, I grew increasingly connected to Uyghur culture. There, I met respected Uyghur scholars like Imin Tursun and Yarmuhammad Tahir Tughlugh, and their influence deepened my cultural awareness and appreciation.
The inspiration for creating a Uyghur cultural festival came during a dark chapter of my life—my imprisonment from August 2005 to September 2007 in Tengritagh Detention Center, after I was arrested for writing an article titled “Uyghur Culture in Danger”, which highlighted the growing threats to Uyghur cultural identity under Chinese rule.
While in detention, the authorities played various propaganda programs. One that stood out was about the Water Splashing Festival, a Dai ethnic celebration in Yunnan Province. That moment sparked a profound realization: If the state could promote such ethnic celebrations for others, why couldn’t Uyghurs have a similar cultural festival? That was when I conceived the idea of a Uyghur Cultural Festival (ئۇيغۇر مەدەنىيەت بايرىمى).
I envisioned the festival taking place in spring, considering the seasonal extremes of the Uyghur homeland—winters too cold, summers too hot, and autumn unsuitable in the south due to harvest. Spring offered the most balanced conditions across the region.
Upon my release from prison in September 2007, I faced many challenges. I had lost contact with many friends. I had no official position, government ties, or public platform to introduce such a bold cultural initiative. I only had an idea, a vision, and a strong desire to serve my people. I did not want to immediately appear in the public eye after prison. So, when I met Uyghur scholars and entrepreneurs, I proposed they take the lead, but most declined—either because it wasn’t their idea or they feared political and economic risks.
In 2008, while trying to stabilize my life and earn a living through translation work, I began meeting with cultural figures from universities, business leaders, and even minority culture departments of various government bodies to pitch the idea, gather feedback, and build alliances.
One of the first influential people I met was Mijit Nasir, former chair of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Regional People’s Congress. We had known each other before my imprisonment, and I had translated some of his work into English. At my request, he welcomed me to his government residence near the Art School on Ittipaq Road. He supported the idea and advised me to gather support from more Uyghur scholars and eventually contact the Cultural Department of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region.
Following his advice, I reached out to several prominent Uyghur intellectuals, including Imin Tursun, Abduqadir Jalalidin (Xinjiang Normal University), Abdubesir Shukurki (also of Xinjiang Normal University), and Rahile Dawut (Xinjiang University). Convincing them to even meet was a challenge, given my lack of official credentials. I deliberately softened any political or nationalist tone, emphasizing the festival’s cultural, tourism, and economic value, and prepared detailed documents quoting Chinese government policies on minority culture preservation.
Despite this approach, many remained hesitant, warning that even a culturally framed event like this could be perceived as politically sensitive. Some even said if it were about Han Chinese culture, it would be easily approved. I avoided mentioning my imprisonment to them, fearing it could jeopardize the entire project.
When I floated the idea within my social circle, many friends expressed fear, arguing that the CCP would never allow a pro-Uyghur event of this scale. Intellectuals and young people alike voiced concerns: some believed it was too religious, others too ethnic, or even culturally regressive. A few argued it conflicted with Islamic tradition by introducing a new festival outside of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha.
Ultimately, it became clear that the name Uyghur Cultural Festival would be too overt. I needed a more subtle, culturally accepted alternative. That’s when I proposed the “Uyghur Doppa Cultural Festival”. This name was seen as more neutral—even by the most cautious Uyghur cultural activists and intellectuals. Still, some mocked me. A few sarcastic friends joked, “Tahir has nothing but a festival,” and even nicknamed me “Tahir Doppa.”
Undeterred, I compiled a 50-page proposal detailing the significance of Doppa, relevant policies, historical and cultural context, and the economic benefits of such a festival. It also included answers to anticipated criticisms. This document was eventually published across multiple Uyghur websites: Diyarim, Salkin, Xabnam, Izdinish, Misranim, and Alkuyi.
In April 2009, I formally established the Uyghur Doppa Cultural Festival Committee, composed of one lawyer, five youth volunteers, three scholars, and three businesspeople. A Doppa business owner offered to sponsor the event, but a close friend strongly opposed this, fearing compromise. This led to a serious internal conflict, and I ultimately chose to proceed without major business sponsorship.
My college friend Mamtimin, who owned a biotech company, offered financial support—600 RMB (~$100). With this, we held the first event on May 4, 2009, at Nazna Restaurant, near the Rabiya Kadeer Trade Center in Bulaq Bashi, Urumqi. I would later hold my wedding in that same restaurant the following year.
We invited Uyghur website editors, intellectuals, and volunteers. I presented the two years of work behind the festival and thanked all those who helped. During the emotional discussions, Islamjan Shirip warned me not to be too passionate, saying it might lead to consequences. But Mamtimin responded: “Without passion, there would be no Uyghur history or human progress.” Scholars such as Abduqadir Jalalidin, Abdubesir Shukurki, Hasanjan Abliz, and Yarmuhammad Tahir Tughlugh voiced their strong support. Abduqadir said: “Tahir Uka, you made history today—your name will remain in our people’s memory forever.”
Roles were assigned: Dr. Hasanjan Abliz became the academic lead; Abduqadir Jalalidin and Abdubesir Shukurki his advisors; Imin Tursun and Islamjan Shirip took on public and governmental outreach; Yasinjan became the legal advisor; and companies like Zichilar, Furqan, and Derman agreed to be future partners if the festival expanded. Nurmuhemmet, Adil, and Mamtimin were appointed as lead volunteers.
We contacted media outlets and shared photos, documents, and our plan. Articles were published, though some photos were later removed after the July 5, 2009 incident.
The next day, Memet Abla, a Uyghur journalist with China National Radio in Beijing—later sentenced to 15 years for his reporting on the July 5 events—called to ask about the festival. His report, based on Diyarim’s coverage, was published nationally, giving the event broad recognition.
After that, the movement grew. Uyghur students across universities began organizing events, sharing photos, and writing essays. Soon, Uyghurs abroad also began celebrating. In 2010, though internet was restricted, students at Beijing Normal University held their own celebration. By 2011, Yakan County in Kashgar—the largest Uyghur-populated county—held its own Doppa Cultural Festival, inviting over 200 intellectuals.