Listen to thisIn this instalment, I introduce you to Sazzad, who spent 14 years in a children’s home looking after the children of sex workers. Nearly 30 years ago, he was among the 40 pioneering students at the home, which aimed to provide refuge and opportunities for children born into a cycle of exploitation. A few years after his arrival, his younger siblings joined him, cementing their collective escape from a harsh life marked by sexual, emotional, physical and spiritual abuse and exploitation. Sazzad emerged as one of the central figures in the home—not only as a founding student and leader but also for his martial arts skills and his role as the lead dancer in the children’s team.
Life in the Red-Light District
In the heart of an urban red-light district, life was harsh, especially for children born into the brothels. These children endured deplorable conditions: insufficient sleeping space, no access to education or healthcare, and the trauma of witnessing their mothers entertain clients. Substance abuse, human trafficking, and violence were everyday occurrences, compounded by the constant threat of police raids and criminal elements. The brothel was not just their residence; it was a pervasive system that shaped their identities and predetermined their futures
Breaking the Cycle of Exploitation
Recognising the plight of these children and their mothers, the parent organisation of the children’s home conducted a study to assess risks and identify interventions. This led to four key projects. The first was a healthcare service tailored for women and children living in brothels, aiming to address immediate health concerns. The second focused on pre-primary education, laying a foundation for children to transition into formal schooling. The third — and perhaps the most impactful — was establishing the children’s home, a sanctuary designed to provide a safe and nurturing environment. Finally, the fourth project concentrated on developmental and educational programmes for youth within the brothel environment.
The Fight for Education and Trust
Each brothel operated like a ‘brutal small state’, controlled by mafias and ‘sardarni’ — the leaders among sex workers — who usually owned houses and bonded sex workers and maintained strict power hierarchies. These power structures perpetuated cycles of exploitation. Girls, often viewed as future assets for the trade, faced limited prospects beyond following their mothers’ footsteps. Boys, conversely, were frequently drawn into criminal activities, becoming enforcers for the mafias.
Initially, the organisation’s intervention efforts faced resistance from these groups, who perceived the efforts as a direct threat to their authority. Health workers and educators faced hostility and suspicion, with many mothers initially sceptical about the organisation’s intentions. For these women, their children represented their only potential source of future security, making the idea of relinquishing them to a children’s home fraught with anxiety.
Despite these challenges, some mothers began to see the value of education. Sazzad’s mother, a sardarni, became a vocal advocate for change. ‘I want my children to have a life I couldn’t,’ she often declared, inspiring others to entrust their children to the children’s home, challenging deeply entrenched norms. This shift, however, was met with hostility, intimidation, and violence from the mafias and sardarnis, who spread malicious rumours to undermine the organisation’s efforts. Nevertheless, the organisation’s commitment remained steadfast. By consistently engaging with the mothers and demonstrating tangible results, they gradually built trust within the community.
When 40 children were rescued and placed in the children’s home, it marked an unprecedented moment of hope and fear. Rumours circulated that these children would be exploited or sold, creating scepticism even among participating mothers. They feared they would lose their children forever. However, as the children began to thrive in their new environment, trust deepened, and more families embraced the opportunity to break the cycle of exploitation.
Sazzad’s Journey
Sazzad emerged as a leader among the initial group of 15 boys, aged 10 to 15. Transitioning to structured education was challenging, as none of the boys had prior schooling. Sazzad, while an average student, dreamed of becoming a professional dancer. Teachers and peers alike admired his determination and charisma.
Sazzad participated in my PhD research, and I reconnected with him after nearly twenty years. Over the past few months, we have engaged in several lengthy conversations that form the basis of this story. In our discussions, he reflected on his childhood in the brothel, his formative years in the children’s home, and his journey into adulthood.
A pivotal episode in his narrative involved a confrontation with nine older boys, a girl, and the principal that escalated into physical violence. After four years of establishing the children’s home, this was our first encounter with a physical assault case. We confronted new issues daily and addressed them as best we could. However, this situation was a ‘double-edged sword’, with one side involving the principal and the other involving the students striving to improve their lives. As a result of this incident, eight boys were expelled from the home, the principal was transferred to a different department, and counselling and anger management programmes were initiated.
The boys claimed they had attacked the principal in retaliation for disparaging remarks he made about their mothers. ‘We warned him not to associate our identities with our mothers’ pasts,’ they explained. The incident, which unfolded during Ramadan, culminated in simmering tensions. The principal had reprimanded a girl for inappropriate behaviour, following a complaint by the local school’s headteacher, drawing comparisons to brothel culture. While his intention may have been to enforce discipline, his comments struck a nerve and provoked outrage among the boys — the opportunity they had been waiting for.
Managing the Crisis
The night of the incident, I arrived at the children’s home with the CEO. The atmosphere was tense, and emotions were running high. We spoke privately with the principal, staff, and the children involved to piece together what had happened. The principal defended his actions, stating he had been addressing concerns raised by the local school about the girl’s behaviour. However, his remarks about her mother had inflamed the situation. Children who witnessed the incident reported that the older boys went into the principal's office and overheard an argument with him. At one point, these nine boys began to beat the principal. They remarked, ‘We were surprised to see these boys attacking the principal, who looked both embarrassed and angry.’
The boys, emboldened by their anger, viewed the incident as an opportunity to challenge authority. However, their actions jeopardised not only their futures but also the stability of the home. After consulting with the mothers, a decision was reached: the boys were given 24 hours to apologise unconditionally. Only Sazzad complied. The others were expelled, a heart-wrenching but necessary step to maintain order and protect the home’s mission. When my CEO informed these boys, with a trembling voice, ‘We have no alternative but to ask you to leave the home.' Students and staff wept as we watched them depart, yet they showed no remorse! My CEO and I agreed on an alternative plan: if they returned, we would accept their apology and involve them in one of our youth development projects, enabling them to receive formal education or vocational training, but they never returned.
Reflecting on this incident years later, Sazzad acknowledged its significance. He recalled that his mother and another female teacher (Mukti Madam, whom you may remember from my previous writings) had not forced him to apologise to the principal. ‘If I hadn’t apologised, my life could have taken a very different path. Your patience and willingness to give us another chance changed everything,' he said, referring to the CEO and me. This moment became a turning point in his life, shaping his outlook and future.
From a Troubled Youth to a Triumph in Adulthood
Sazzad’s path wasn't straightforward. He struggled with education, motivation, and the psychological baggage of his background. After completing school, he was admitted to one of the finest colleges in the capital city, aspiring to obtain a superior education and a better future. Despite gaining admission to a prestigious institution, he found the transition overwhelming. At one point, he ceased attending classes and began living in his mother’s rented house outside the brothel. He told his college housemates he would be staying at a friend’s house for a few days and informed his mother that college was closed for a break. Everyone acted in good faith, but the truth surfaced when the college authorities contacted the principal of the children’s home to inquire about his absence. Missing lectures without a valid reason is considered a ‘crime’ in this institution, and he had been absent for a significant period. This revelation shocked the home’s authority, and he eventually dropped out. However, with the encouragement of his caseworker, he resumed his studies a year later at a local college and went on to earn a master’s degree in accounting.
Today, Sazzad works for a globally renowned health research institute, balancing a fulfilling career and family life. His siblings have also found stability. His brother operates a successful construction business, while his sister is married and raising children.
During his dropout years, Sazzad's life took a dramatic turn when enraged locals burned down the country's second-largest brothel, home to over 2,000 sex workers. Forced to flee with nothing, she lost her money, jewellery, home and power. While some mothers found temporary refuge through a children’s home, many turned to crime. Sazzad’s mother was arrested for drug dealing and human trafficking.
Sazzad and his brother invested heavily to secure her release, yet during her imprisonment, the brothel reopened. After her release, she chose not to live with her children, opting instead to return to the brothel to operate a small restaurant. Nevertheless, their mother’s decision to remain in the brothel continues to cause emotional pain. Feeling powerless and lacking resources, Sazzad believes she clings to her past as a sardarni, perhaps hoping to reclaim her former status, as she fears she won’t adapt to life outside, as Sazzad explained.
When I inquired about Sazzad’s connection and communication with the children’s home and the care leavers, he responded that he used to visit the children's home often when he was known to everyone. Over time, his visits lessened as new faces emerged among the staff and the children. Nevertheless, he conveyed his concern for the children living there and acknowledged the significance of this home to children like him. He mentioned that he has regular contact with his friends and fellow inmates, and occasionally, they come together to support one another.
Shaping Futures: The Transformative Power of Residential Care
Sazzad’s story underscores the transformative power of residential care for children from challenging backgrounds. He believes that his children’s home life is the most rewarding aspect of his existence. Despite some poor choices influenced by negative factors, he fully acknowledges that the person he has become is entirely due to his experiences there. He reflected,
‘I can confidently say that my blood, soul, and every fibre of my being is grateful to all of you. Without that second chance, Sazzad would not exist, nor would I be living my life as I do today.’
Reflecting on his time in the children’s home, he recalled, ‘Living in the home felt like heaven compared to the brothel.’ He continued,
‘When we lived in the brothel, we did not understand how the outside world functioned, including the dynamics of sibling relationships and the connections between parents and cousins. We were unaware of how to interact with friends, teachers, and elders, celebrate festivals as we do today, or partake in weddings while embracing various cultures, customs, and values. … Sir, do you remember when we first arrived at the children’s home and slept beneath the bed, using pillows to cover our faces instead of our heads? There was no proper sleeping space; our mothers worked with clients on the bed while we huddled below it, using pillows to shield our eyes from the harsh realities surrounding us. We were pressured into trying substances like ganja and alcohol and compelled to participate in politically charged protests marked by violence and the threat of death. Our lives were chaotic, devoid of any routine, and we could not access hospitals or schools, facing severe discrimination in society. If there were no children’s homes, what would happen to the thousands of children like us born without a father's identity?’
However, he sounded distressed about the potential closure of the children's home after the CEO’s passing. In his late 70s, he visits often, but most duties are now handled by others. When I asked why he feared closure, he mentioned the current leaders' lack of the CEO's dedication. He learned from care leavers that the CEO worried for the home’s future, wishing it to endure. As the founder, he feels a special bond with the home and its children. Sazzad noted that senior leaders see children’s homes as troublesome. He questioned,
‘We aren’t responsible for how we were born, are we? Do they not understand that there were a hundred of us on a decent path to this home? When children grow up in a brothel, they often turn to crime due to social pressure and discrimination. Someone needs to take responsibility—whether it’s those who brought us into this world, the state, philanthropists, or good people like you, CEO Sir.’
He and his friends plan to meet with the CEO to request administrative roles to better support the children. He believes their experiences can help manage these homes more effectively, benefiting many children from similar backgrounds needing support.
Sazzad further informed that the CEO had asked the current programme director to organise a celebration to mark the home's 30th anniversary, inviting all the children who grew up there, those who worked there, and anyone involved, directly or indirectly, including the funders.
The ongoing global debate on Residential Care
The global campaign against residential care continues. He expressed his frustration at this, stating, ‘Those who spread negativity do not grasp the reality on the ground. Do they truly understand what the children and young people in our group experience due to their birth identity? If we are not given the chance to grow up, who will be viewed as a burden to society? They will claim we are burdened by not contributing. Which scenario is preferable? To help us grow and serve our country, or to force us into brothels and crime?’
Sazzad expressed concerns over the effectiveness of certain international non-governmental organisations (INGOs) promoting foster care and adoption, stating, ‘Who will adopt children born to sex workers or those with unknown fathers? Many of our mothers also suffer from HIV and AIDS?’ He highlighted that religious and cultural values influence acceptance of these issues in their society, saying, ‘While these issues may be more accepted in the West, in our country, religion, culture, and values are significant forces that shape society.’ Sazzad emphasised the need for cautious implementation of deinstitutionalisation by suggesting, ‘Pilot programmes should be initiated prior to enforcing any mandates, as this approach could backfire and ultimately harm the children. The government must also launch initiatives to prevent the births of children with unknown fathers.’
He lamented, ‘Curiously, no one has reached out to assess our well-being or determine if children’s homes are effective for us. What is being done in the name of children's rights does not truly benefit or assist us.’
Reality and Reflections
Reflecting on our conversation, it is clear that residential care significantly benefitted children like Sazzad. Furthermore, Sazzad has gained vital insights and posed thoughtful questions. While I lack answers to many of these inquiries, I know that children with experience in care, those who work with them, and even the general public recognise the detrimental effects of not having various types of residential facilities for children. If this understanding exists, why do those in power fail to grasp it, particularly in the context of international organisations that portray residential care negatively, despite a lack of compelling evidence?
Some INGOs argue that 80 years of research suggests institutional care is detrimental; however, this appears more like a marketing strategy, given the lack of substantial evidence. Studies comparing children in foster care and adoption with those in institutions are insufficient, lacking a practitioner’s perspective, which results in gaps in global analyses. The reasons for shortcomings in fostering and adoption, as opposed to successes in institutional care, remain unexplored. Moreover, the actual outcomes of large-scale fostering and adoption programmes in Europe have not been examined. There has also been no scrutiny of the NGOs promoting this agenda or why political leaders support it without adequate research.
Children rarely enter residential facilities as a first option. In Asia and Africa, kinship care is the initial choice; children move to homes only when alternatives are exhausted. Is there research on this? There is no universal solution; some thrive in institutions, others in foster care or with relatives. Children deserve options — what matters is not where they are raised, but if they feel safe, loved, and supported.
In the 21st century, Child and Youth Care and Social Work practices are experiencing global changes, largely driven by economic influences. Six Western ideologies have shaped policy initiatives: Normalisation, De-Institutionalisation, Mainstreaming, Least Restrictive Environments, Minimum Intervention, and Diversion. There appears to be a de-regionalisation agenda targeting faith-based institutions, along with others often targeted in deinstitutionalisation campaigns, which have historically played a vital role in supporting vulnerable children. Marginalising these organisations risks leaving a void that profit-driven entities may exploit under the guise of professionalisation and child rights. Robin Sen and his colleagues’ article, "Charting the 21st Century Rise of For-Profit Residential Child Care," offers a thoughtful analysis of the increasing prevalence of for-profit residential child care in Great Britain and draws international comparisons.
British Foreign Secretary David Lammy, with actor Barry Keoghan in Sofia, Bulgaria, announced a campaign for family-based care for children globally. I see this as an immature marketing strategy, supporting ‘privileged agencies' instead of genuinely helping those in need. These anti-residential groups have strong media ties, manipulating narratives with negative journalism about residential care. Policymakers should consider diverse perspectives for the greater good.
Reflecting on his journey, Sazzad remains grateful for the opportunities the children’s home provided. ‘Without that second chance, I wouldn’t be who I am today,’ he said. His story is a testament to the enduring importance of residential care and its irreplaceable role in nurturing unseen lives and unheard voices.
This fight for recognition and sustainability of residential care continues, not just for Sazzad but for countless children who still live in the shadows, waiting for their own chance to transform their lives.
