War memorialization in Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) remains a persistent and contentious subject. In the absence of state laws and regulations governing memorials, let alone a national commemorative strategy, the country’s memorial landscape is saturated with a wide range of memorialization efforts stemming from all levels of Bosnian society. Alongside state authorities, numerous non-state actors have significantly shaped memorialization in BiH and continue to do so in various ways, employing bottom-up, creative, and artistic approaches to commemorate the country’s war history. While this creates opportunities for diverse voices to articulate their experiences, it also generates ambiguity regarding the responsibilities and content of commemoration. The absence of uniform state memorialization efforts raises questions about who gets to decide what is commemorated and in what manner. In this context, non-state memorialization provides a bottom-up opportunity for marginalized voices to share their truth, particularly benefiting those whose stories do not neatly align with predominant ethno-nationalist narratives. Civil society actors’ memorialization initiatives offer a platform to commemorate those neglected by state discourses, often despite popular demands for official memorialization. However, non-state memorialization can also be viewed as providing an unmediated space that enables unregulated, potentially harmful, or divisive ideas about who and what should be remembered. The role of non-state, artistic, and bottom-up memorialization initiatives in shaping BiH’s collective memory landscape is not so straightforward and is entangled in intricate questions. Ahmed Kulanić, director of the Sarajevo Canton Memorial Fund observes that for the last three decades, three different versions of history have been allowed to exist in the country, which he says have “led to more division, more segregation, and not confronting the facts.” The Memorial Fund, established in 1997 by Sarajevo Canton, is tasked with constructing and maintaining memorials to war and genocide victims and soldiers of the Army of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina. This mainly takes the form of cemeteries and memorial plaques across not only Sarajevo Canton but the whole of BiH. In this way, it represents a state institution pursuing a carefully structured and fact-based narrative in its memorialization efforts. However, Kulanić emphasizes that the Fund is by no means alone in establishing commemorative sites and thereby shaping public memory related to the war. There is no central agency overseeing BiH’s memorials, nor is there legislation dictating what and who is memorialized. In a post-war context that has not produced a clear consensus on the “winners or losers,” this has given rise to a patchwork of memorials and commemorative sites across Bosnia and Herzegovina. While many are committed to ensuring the remembrance of otherwise forgotten stories, they are also highly politicized, and lend themselves to polarizing narratives. Kulanić warns of the historical revisionism accompanying un-regulated memorial narratives. At the same time, however, he notes that institutional authorities, especially at the entity level, also pursue memorialization agendas that are more divisive than reconciliatory. Kulanić is one of many voices speaking out against the glorification of convicted war criminals and their commemoration in public spaces across the country. On the other hand, unregulated, bottom-up memory initiatives led by non-state actors have the potential to constructively shape collective memory by amplifying voices that are otherwise marginalized, as well as by facilitating grassroots level dialogue and interaction. “Since the beginning of the White Armband Day campaign, survivors and local activists have been fighting for a memorial for all of the slain children of Prijedor,” states artist Emir Hodžić, one of the activists behind White Armband Day, an event commemorating those killed during the ethnic cleansing campaigns in and around Prijedor. In 2012, he staged a public demonstration at Prijedor’s main square to draw attention to a story deliberately omitted by the city’s official commemoration programs. Researcher Zoran Vučkovac documented how members of Izvor, a local women’s association, were denied access to Prijedor’s main square for a commemorative gathering. Hodžić stood alone, a white armband tied around his arm, symbolizing the white cloth that the local non-Serb population was forced to wear following the Serb occupation of the town in May 1992. During this period, 3,176 people, including 102 children, were killed in Prijedor and its surroundings.