Listen to thisSabina’s Struggle
A Message from the Edge
Two weeks ago, an urgent WhatsApp message appeared on my phone: ‘Assalamu Alaikum, Sir. How are you? I need to speak with you urgently. What are the convenient times for you?’
It was from Sabina, an exceptionally qualified young NGO professional raised in a children's home. Readers will remember Sabina from the November 2024 issue of this journal.
Sabina had always been self-reliant, poised, and determined. Her reaching out indicated that something had shifted. Sensing the urgency, I tried calling her, but to no avail, prompting a growing concern about her well-being.
After a few days, I contacted Shohagi—another care leaver I had introduced in the October 2024 issue—who informed me that Sabina wanted to meet the CEO of the parent organisation of the children's home where she grew up. Before that, she wanted to discuss matters with me.
My unease intensified. Why would she suddenly seek a meeting with the CEO, particularly when she had previously been discontented with the staff who had prevented her from meeting him? Was she facing an emergency? Had something happened to her family? Had she lost her job? These thoughts and concerns emerged as if all parents were contemplating their daughters’ well-being.
The Human Face of Funding Cuts
When I finally spoke to Sabina, she was direct:
‘Sir, I have been unemployed for the past three months. The project I was working on was supported by USAID. Trump and Musk have abruptly ceased the funding... I’ve been managing on my savings, but now I’m struggling. I need to pay for my son’s school fees and support my family. I need a job.’
She continued:
‘I want to meet with the ED, sir, to request a position. I am also considering exploring job opportunities abroad, particularly in Italy or other countries offering high earnings. What do you recommend?’
Her words tumbled out rapidly, but the gravity of her situation was unmistakable. Sabina—once a shining success story of residential care—was now caught in the crossfire of international politics and funding cuts that had nothing to do with her performance or qualifications
Sabina’s story is not isolated. She is one of many care leavers and thousands of USAID project staff facing unemployment because of abrupt foreign aid policy changes. USAID funding cuts under Trump—and ideological pushes by influencers like Elon Musk—have devastated countless lives. The real impact isn't just on institutions; it’s on the individuals they serve.
A Crossroads: Foreign Work or Local Survival?
I reminded Sabina that she is not alone. Across the globe, Trump-era cuts disrupted services, shut down projects, and pushed many into unemployment. I advised caution. At nearly 40, with two young sons and ageing in-laws, migrating abroad would come at a heavy personal cost. Moreover, the risks of fraudulent recruitment and prolonged family separation abroad are significant.
Instead, I suggested she consider launching a small local business. Sabina possesses resilience, leadership, and excellent communication skills. The cost of starting a business would be far less than migrating abroad, and it would allow her to remain close to her family. Sabina listened thoughtfully.
Seeking a Hand Up, Not a Handout
Sabina was not looking for charity; she sought dignity through meaningful employment. However, accessing the CEO was complicated due to his health condition, and appointments had to be arranged through department heads, one of whom was on holiday.
Patiently, Sabina stayed with Shohagi for two nights, determined to meet the CEO.
When they finally met, the CEO showed sympathy. He offered financial support and encouraged Sabina to submit her CV so he could recommend her for suitable roles. However, Sabina had hoped for an immediate position—even at a junior level—given her qualifications and experience.
I gently reminded her that while the organisation could offer support, it might not have vacancies suited to her profile. Nevertheless, I connected her with my professional networks and encouraged her to remain hopeful.
I believe Sabina can secure a far better position elsewhere—her potential far exceeds the opportunities currently available at the parent organisation. She is a fighter, a visionary, and one of the extraordinary girls I have known from the children's home. The impact of Trump’s funding cuts will fade soon, and surely, she will be back in the workforce again.
When Children Return Home: The Enduring Bond of Residential Care
Sabina returned to the children’s home not out of failure, but out of a deeply human instinct—when life collapses, you go home. You go to the place where you once found safety. You seek the people who raised you.
But imagine this: what if the home no longer existed?
This is not a hypothetical. The anti-residential movement, fuelled by donor pressure and misinformed ideology, advocates the closure of all residential care. Their rhetoric claims children leave homes broken, disconnected, and unsupported. But Sabina’s story—and thousands like hers—disprove this.
Sabina came back because she could, because the home still existed, because the CEO is still there, a father figure who had been instrumental in her upbringing, seeking guidance, support, and potential employment opportunities, and because she believed she would be heard.
This behaviour mirrors exactly what biological children do when facing difficulties—they turn to their parents. Sabina's seeking help from the children's home leadership demonstrates that these institutions don't simply warehouse children temporarily but create lasting bonds that serve as lifelong safety-nets. Her actions directly contradict one of the primary arguments made by anti-residential care advocates: that young people leaving care lack support and cannot return ‘home’ if issues arise.
Despite the procedural hurdles, Sabina's determination to meet with the CEO emphasises this connection's depth. When denied immediate access due to the CEO's health condition, she persisted, contacting the department head and even staying with Shohagi for two nights to ensure she could have the meeting. These are not the actions of someone who views the institution as a detached service provider but rather as a family to whom she can turn in times of crisis.
The Missing Safety Net: Where Would Sabina Go Without Residential Care?
If the anti-residential group's ideology were fully implemented and children's homes ceased to exist, where would Sabina turn in her current situation? This critical question exposes the dangerous gap in the deinstitutionalisation narrative.
Without the children's home and its extended network of support, Sabina would face her unemployment crisis in isolation, without access to the guidance, emotional support, and potential resources that her ‘institutional family’ can provide. With her savings depleted after three months of unemployment and school fees looming, she might be forced into truly desperate measures—perhaps becoming one of the many vulnerable migrants exploited abroad, separated from her children with no guarantee of safe or fair employment.
Consider the stark reality: Sabina, facing financial crisis, instinctively returned to the children's home leadership for support—just as any child would return to their parents during difficult times. This natural response undermines the anti-residential narrative that portrays these institutions as harmful or ineffective. The very fact that she could turn to these institutional ‘parents’ during her crisis demonstrates the enduring value of quality residential care as a lifelong safety net.
The anti-residential advocates who push for the closure of children's homes rarely address this question: Without these institutions, where would vulnerable children—and later, adults like Sabina—turn in moments of crisis? The uncomfortable truth is that for many children without functional family support, quality residential care represents the only viable path to stability, education, and ultimately, success.
Countering the Negativity: The Reality of Residential Care
The anti-residential group's persistent campaign against institutional and residential child and youth care facilities has created a distorted narrative that bears little resemblance to the reality experienced by children like Sabina. Their arguments frequently characterise these homes as cold, detached environments that damage children and prevent healthy integration into society—a characterisation directly contradicted by Sabina's successful life trajectory and her enduring connection to the children's home.
These critics argue that young people leaving care lack support and cannot return home if issues arise, but Sabina's story clearly demonstrates otherwise. As she navigated her unemployment crisis, she naturally returned to the children's home leadership, approaching the CEO with the same expectation of support that any child would have when turning to their parents during difficult times.
The reality is that ‘It is a common fact that children who have aged out of care can visit their homes, even in the absence of adequate support systems or policies.’ The individuals who staff these homes are not the abusers portrayed by the media and anti-residential care advocates, but caring humans who form genuine bonds with the children they raise. As Sabina's case illustrates, ‘The organisation she grew up in is dedicated and, acting as parental figures, does everything possible for the children throughout their lives.’
This ongoing support extends far beyond childhood and adolescence. Despite leaving the children's home nearly eighteen years ago and holding various senior roles at different organisations for almost sixteen years, Sabina still connects with the institution that raised her. This enduring relationship directly challenges the notion that residential care fails to create meaningful, family-like bonds that persist throughout life.
The Meeting with the CEO: Expectations and Reality
Sabina's meeting with the CEO revealed both the strengths and limitations of the support that children's homes can provide for care leavers facing crises. The CEO was sympathetic to her situation, offered financial help, and asked her to submit her CV to help find better opportunities suited to her qualifications. While this response demonstrated genuine concern and a desire to help, it fell short of Sabina's immediate need for employment.
Her disappointment with this outcome—she had hoped for an immediate position, even if junior—highlights the complex challenges care leavers face during economic crises. The children's home, much like many biological families, could offer advice, connections, and some financial support, but could not immediately solve her problems. This reality mirrors the experience of many young adults who turn to their families during difficult times: support is available, but it may not perfectly align with immediate needs or expectations.
Nevertheless, the very existence of this support system—however imperfect—remains crucial. The CEO's willingness to meet with Sabina, offer her assistance, and leverage connections on her behalf demonstrates the lasting commitment that quality residential care institutions maintain toward those they have raised. Without this support network, Sabina would face her crisis entirely alone, with potentially devastating consequences for her and her children.
Beyond Individual Cases: A Systemic Crisis
Sabina's situation is not isolated. I learned from Shohagi that Sazzad, another care leaver introduced previously, is also currently unemployed after working on a USAID-supported project. This pattern indicates a systemic impact of funding cuts that disproportionately affect thousands who have already overcome significant adversity.
The multiple care leavers affected by these funding cuts reflect a broader crisis threatening the stability and security of individuals striving to build successful lives after leaving residential care. For these professionals, who often lack the extensive family networks and financial safety nets that others might rely on during unemployment, the support from their former children's homes becomes even more crucial during economic hardships.
The anti-residential narrative has increasingly influenced funding priorities, with tragic consequences that extend far beyond individual career paths. By undermining support for residential care facilities, these policy decisions threaten to dismantle critical safety-nets for children who have nowhere else to turn. The cascade effect is particularly devastating—when care facilities close or reduce services due to funding cuts, not only are current residents affected, but the lifelong support system for former residents like Sabina also weakens.
Sustainable Solutions: Looking Beyond Foreign Aid
The abrupt termination of USAID funding by the Trump administration has exposed the vulnerability of relying exclusively on foreign donations to sustain critical social services. As this crisis demonstrates, externally-funded projects remain subject to the political whims of donor countries, creating precarious situations for both the organisations implementing these projects and the individuals depending on them.
This reality emphasises the urgent need for sustainable, locally-sourced funding models to ensure the continuity of essential services, particularly for vulnerable populations. As we have learned from this experience, ‘Trump and Musk's funding cuts have made us realise that relying solely on foreign donations to run projects is not a sustainable option. Rather, homegrown small-scale projects would be more sustainable for helping millions of children and young people who need residential care and support.’
Unlike in wealthy Western nations, where residential care may indeed be costly, children's homes in developing countries typically operate with minimal expenses compared to their counterparts in resource-rich countries. The individuals working in these facilities are often motivated by compassion rather than financial gain, resulting in lower administrative and overhead costs. This fundamental difference makes the Western cost-saving arguments against residential care largely irrelevant in developing contexts.
A sustainable approach would recognise that quality residential care remains essential in many contexts while working to develop diversified funding sources that aren't vulnerable to political shifts. As the current situation demonstrates, relying heavily on international funding exposes these critical services to risks beyond their control.
Building Resilience While Supporting Care Leavers
While acknowledging the severity of Sabina's situation, we must also recognise the resilience that quality residential care has helped cultivate in her and other care leavers. Despite the current crisis, Sabina has demonstrated remarkable strength and resourcefulness—sustaining her family through savings for three months, actively seeking employment opportunities, and leveraging her network for support.
I deeply believe that ‘we can assist her in becoming independent, but she may need a little time. The challenge she is facing is unpredictable. However, this will help make her more resilient.’ Like many care leavers, Sabina has already overcome significant adversity and developed coping strategies to help her navigate this difficult period.
Nevertheless, this recognition of resilience should not minimise the genuine hardship that Sabina and others are experiencing due to funding cuts. While we work to help care leavers build independence and resilience, we must simultaneously advocate for stable funding mechanisms that prevent such abrupt disruptions to critical services and livelihoods.
My role in supporting Sabina through this crisis mirrors the ongoing commitment that quality residential care institutions maintain toward those they have raised. By calming her down, encouraging her to take advice positively, connecting her with potential employment opportunities, and offering to review her CV, I am continuing the supportive relationship that began during her time in care. This ongoing support—extending decades after she left the children's home—directly contradicts the anti-residential narrative that portrays these institutions as temporary warehouses for children that fail to create lasting bonds.
Conclusion: A Universal Truth
The story of Sabina demonstrates not only the immediate impact of funding cuts but also the enduring value of residential care institutions as lifelong support systems for those they raise. These institutions don't just house children temporarily; they build resilience, develop talents, and create lasting bonds that serve as critical safety nets throughout life's challenges.
Rather than dismantling these vital institutions based on Western ideologies and financial calculations that don't translate across contexts, we must recognise their irreplaceable role in supporting vulnerable children and young people. We must develop sustainable funding models that aren't vulnerable to political and personal whims and amplify the voices of care leavers like Sabina who can attest to the transformative power of quality residential care.
For Sabina and countless others like her, residential care wasn't just a place to grow up—it was the foundation that enabled her success and continues to be her safety net in times of crisis. To close these doors would be to leave vulnerable children and care leavers without recourse in their moments of greatest need.
The question remains stark and urgent: Without children's homes, where would vulnerable children go? And later, as adults facing crises like Sabina's, where would they turn? The uncomfortable reality is that for many children without functional family support, quality residential care represents not just the best option but often the only viable path to stability, education, and ultimately, success.
As we advocate for preserving and strengthening quality residential care, we must challenge the simplistic anti-residential narrative that fails to acknowledge the complex realities faced by vulnerable children and the critical role that children's homes play in creating lifelong safety nets.
By ensuring these institutions remain operational and well-supported, we protect current residents and care leavers like Sabina who may need to ‘come home’ during future crises.
