Photojournalism: Child Marriage & Sex Trafficking in Bangladesh: cm_br_asj-06

Condoms and cosmetic products sit on the table in Yasmin's room{quote}Yasmin{quote} was married at 11, trafficked to a brothel when she was 12.‘My husband married me without asking anyone’s permission. He already had a wife in her 20s or 30s, and one day she turned up at our house and invited me over to stay the night. When I got there, her husband locked me in a room and raped me, while she waited outside. After he was finished, he said that I had to marry him, because otherwise he would tell everyone that I was a bad girl who had sex with strangers. So he took me to the registry office, and I cried and cried as they signed the papers. When we got back to the house, he said that I had to have sex with his friends now too.I ran away, but a woman saw me crying, and offered to help. She fed me food and gave me water, but after a few mouthfuls I was suddenly really sleepy. I passed out, and when I woke up, we were at [a brothel]. She told me that while I was unconscious, she’d made a license in my name, and that I was a sex worker now.Escaping isn’t an option any more. My pimp used to lock me in my room from the outside, and she’d play loud music to drown out the sound of my screams as the customers raped me. I did try to run away 11 or 12 times, but she always caught me and beat me with a wooden stick until I was covered in bruises. She took away my clothes and gave me short dresses, so that if I did get out, everyone would instantly know I was from the brothel. Eventually, I stopped trying.I gave birth to twins last year, but one of them died from pneumonia two months ago. Now all I can do is try to save enough money to give my son a better future.’

Condoms and cosmetic products sit on the table in Yasmin's room 

"Yasmin" was married at 11, trafficked to a brothel when she was 12. 

‘My husband married me without asking anyone’s permission. He already had a wife in her 20s or 30s, and one day she turned up at our house and invited me over to stay the night. When I got there, her husband locked me in a room and raped me, while she waited outside. After he was finished, he said that I had to marry him, because otherwise he would tell everyone that I was a bad girl who had sex with strangers. So he took me to the registry office, and I cried and cried as they signed the papers. When we got back to the house, he said that I had to have sex with his friends now too. 

I ran away, but a woman saw me crying, and offered to help. She fed me food and gave me water, but after a few mouthfuls I was suddenly really sleepy. I passed out, and when I woke up, we were at [a brothel]. She told me that while I was unconscious, she’d made a license in my name, and that I was a sex worker now. 

Escaping isn’t an option any more. My pimp used to lock me in my room from the outside, and she’d play loud music to drown out the sound of my screams as the customers raped me. I did try to run away 11 or 12 times, but she always caught me and beat me with a wooden stick until I was covered in bruises. She took away my clothes and gave me short dresses, so that if I did get out, everyone would instantly know I was from the brothel. Eventually, I stopped trying. 

I gave birth to twins last year, but one of them died from pneumonia two months ago. Now all I can do is try to save enough money to give my son a better future.’