A couple of days ago I found out that my host sister will likely get married at 12. My first reaction was to automatically assume I had misunderstood my host mother and grandmother. Early child marriage is not uncommon in Bangladesh, especially in rural areas like the village I am living in. I checked and double checked. My Bengali is pretty rough and it is not uncommon for my host mother and I to talk past each other. But no, my host family anticipates arranging a marriage for her when she is 12.
As a development worker, you acknowledge early child marriage as a widespread phenomenon. Prior to coming to Bangladesh, I worked in DFID’s offices in Scotland. The reproductive health team sat at the desk behind me, and the gender team across the room, a stone’s throw away. During this period child marriage was a buzz word that I heard almost every day. In fact, while I was at DFID, ending child marriage was one of the key campaigns in the groundbreaking Girl Summit that my colleagues organized. I even recently organized an event with team members in my Bangladeshi host village on the importance of continuing education that included a drama touting education over child marriage. I wonder if my host family heard about the event. If so, I wonder how they feel about it.
For me, working in an office half a world away from project beneficiaries, the girls who undergo child marriage were just numbers to be tackled, victims to be saved. And the parents who perpetuate it beneficiaries to be educated, even perpetrators to be prosecuted.
But living in Bangladesh and having developed affection for my host family, in particular my host mother, made this week’s revelation all the more uncomfortable, as it humanizes and personalizes what - according to my own moral compass - is ultimately a very wrong practice.
Previously, I have blogged about my host mother’s own personal child marriage story. She herself was married at 12 to a man more than a decade older than her. She shared how scared she was at the time. The tone of the blog was sympathetic, but also hopeful in pointing out the successes of Bangladeshi government campaigns to keep girls in school and delay marriage.
At the time I was surprised that my affection towards my host grandmothers was not diminished on learning about their condoning and arranging of my host mother’s child marriage. But the fact that the event happened decades ago made it easier to accept as a piece of history rather than a current reality. Yet my host sister’s marriage is up-coming and will be based on concepts of female duty and marriage that are being held now.
My host mother dotes on her daughter and clearly loves her. And the warmth I feel towards my host mother has not receded. Yet, my host mother admitted feeling fear when she herself married at 12. I am having trouble reconciling that with the knowledge that she too is complicit in perpetuating this practice with her own daughter.
As a development worker, you acknowledge early child marriage as a widespread phenomenon. Prior to coming to Bangladesh, I worked in DFID’s offices in Scotland. The reproductive health team sat at the desk behind me, and the gender team across the room, a stone’s throw away. During this period child marriage was a buzz word that I heard almost every day. In fact, while I was at DFID, ending child marriage was one of the key campaigns in the groundbreaking Girl Summit that my colleagues organized. I even recently organized an event with team members in my Bangladeshi host village on the importance of continuing education that included a drama touting education over child marriage. I wonder if my host family heard about the event. If so, I wonder how they feel about it.
For me, working in an office half a world away from project beneficiaries, the girls who undergo child marriage were just numbers to be tackled, victims to be saved. And the parents who perpetuate it beneficiaries to be educated, even perpetrators to be prosecuted.
But living in Bangladesh and having developed affection for my host family, in particular my host mother, made this week’s revelation all the more uncomfortable, as it humanizes and personalizes what - according to my own moral compass - is ultimately a very wrong practice.
Previously, I have blogged about my host mother’s own personal child marriage story. She herself was married at 12 to a man more than a decade older than her. She shared how scared she was at the time. The tone of the blog was sympathetic, but also hopeful in pointing out the successes of Bangladeshi government campaigns to keep girls in school and delay marriage.
At the time I was surprised that my affection towards my host grandmothers was not diminished on learning about their condoning and arranging of my host mother’s child marriage. But the fact that the event happened decades ago made it easier to accept as a piece of history rather than a current reality. Yet my host sister’s marriage is up-coming and will be based on concepts of female duty and marriage that are being held now.
My host mother dotes on her daughter and clearly loves her. And the warmth I feel towards my host mother has not receded. Yet, my host mother admitted feeling fear when she herself married at 12. I am having trouble reconciling that with the knowledge that she too is complicit in perpetuating this practice with her own daughter.