When they don’t listen to me, dangers multiply. I am not on the map. I am not in their reports.
When the world looks away, risks grow stronger, not just for me, but also for my family, my community, and the generations that follow.
Every time I’m overlooked, cycles of poverty, violence, and inequality tighten their grip.
When I’m left behind, the whole world misses out on what I could become.
When my voice is not heard, I am isolated. I lose the chance to laugh with my friends, to gather safely, and to be part of something. In crisis, family units break apart. Girls like me are separated from siblings, parents, and caregivers. The support systems that hold us up are fractured or disappear entirely.
Without support systems, adolescent girls often take on adult roles and responsibilities, exposing them to increased risk and vulnerability.
When school is gone, so is my escape. Without education, my world becomes smaller, my future dimmer. Conflict shuts the doors that I should walk through, leaving me with fewer choices.
Adolescent girls in conflict settings are 90 per cent more likely to be out of school when compared to girls in other, conflict-free countries.
If I’m not seen, I can’t move freely. My world is a handful of rooms and guarded paths. I don’t go to community gatherings, the health center, or the market. I am cut off from the life I could have had.
In Kutupalong Refugee Camp, by age 16, only 20 per cent of adolescent girls left their homes every day, and the majority required permission from an older relative to leave.
In times of crisis, danger feels like a shadow I can’t outrun. When no one sees me, I am more vulnerable to trafficking, exploitation, and abuse. Programs that should protect me don’t know I’m here. I am left to navigate the threats alone.
While evidence is limited, some studies reveal that up to 40 per cent of adolescent girls in humanitarian settings have experienced intimate partner violence.
Without a way out, marriage becomes my family’s survival plan. Before I have a chance to grow, I’m a wife. I become a mother before I become a woman. The burden of early parenting falls on me.
In conflict-affected regions of Niger, over 50 per cent of adolescent girls are married by the age of 15. Of the 10 countries in the world with the highest rates of adolescent pregnancy, 8 are affected by armed conflict or high levels of displacement.
When my childhood is disrupted, I lose my chance to grow. Without skills or support, I am pushed into poverty that will follow me into adulthood. My children will feel it too: fewer opportunities; fewer choices; the same closed doors.
In Yemen, girls in households where the adult woman was unemployed had nearly 3 times higher odds of being married as children.
Even before the crisis, I was expected to stay quiet and stay inside. But when disaster strikes, inequality grows bolder. Boys go to school. Boys get the food. Boys walk freely. I disappear.
