“A child does not have to experience intercourse for their body, dignity, safety or trust to be violated by abuse.” Rahma Yusuf Haji Mohamud
There is a conversation many Somali families find difficult to have. It is a conversation about children's bodies.
We teach our children how to pray. We teach them to respect their elders. We teach them how to behave at school and how to be polite to guests. But how often do we sit down with our children and tell them that their bodies belong to them—and that no one has the right to touch them in a way that makes them uncomfortable?
Perhaps not often enough. We need to start.
Child sexual abuse is one of those subjects that many societies would rather not discuss. It is painful, uncomfortable and sometimes surrounded by shame. But silence does not protect children. In some cases, it may protect the person who is harming them.
When we hear the words child sexual abuse, many people immediately think of rape or intercourse. But that understanding is too narrow. Sexual violence against children can include both contact and non-contact acts. A child does not have to experience intercourse for their body, dignity, safety or trust to be violated by abuse. WHO recognizes a broad range of sexual violence against children, while UNICEF emphasizes the need to protect children from different forms of sexual abuse and exploitation.
This is why we need to change the way we talk about the problem.
We should not ask only, “Was the child raped?”
We should also ask, “Was this child touched, manipulated, threatened, exposed to sexual behaviour or made to feel unsafe?”
Because abuse does not always look like violence.
Sometimes it looks like trust.
Sometimes it comes from someone the child knows.
A relative. A neighbour. A teacher. A caregiver. An older person. Someone who is welcomed into the home.
That is what makes child sexual abuse particularly difficult to recognize. The child may know the person. The child may love the person. The child may depend on the person. And the child may be too frightened or confused to tell anyone.
This is where parents have an important role.
We cannot protect children from every person they will ever meet. But we can prepare children to recognize when something is wrong and to know that they can tell us.
Every Somali parent should be able to have a simple conversation with their child:
“Your body belongs to you.”
“Some parts of your body are private.”
“If anyone touches you in a way that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me.”
“You will not be punished for telling me.”
These are not conversations that make children “too mature.”
They are conversations that make children safer.
WHO's violence-prevention framework, INSPIRE, includes supporting parents and caregivers and providing children with education and life skills as important strategies for preventing violence against children.
But there is something else we must be careful about.
Teaching children about safety does not mean putting the responsibility for preventing abuse on children.
A child may not say “no.”
A child may freeze.
A child may be threatened.
A child may be promised a gift.
A child may be told that nobody will believe them.
A child may be afraid because the person is someone they are expected to respect.
So if a child tells us that someone touched them inappropriately, the first question should never be:
“Why didn't you stop them?”
The first words should be:
“I believe you.”
“It is not your fault.”
“Are you safe now?”
And then:
“I will help you.”
This matters because children learn from our reactions. If the first response is anger, blame or shame, the child may never speak again.
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And we must remember that this is not only a problem affecting girls.
Boys need protection too.
UNICEF estimates that hundreds of millions of girls and boys worldwide have experienced sexual violence during childhood. Yet boys' experiences can remain hidden because they may be less likely to disclose what happened.
A Somali boy who is abused is still a child who needs protection.
A Somali girl who is abused is still a child who needs protection.
Every child deserves protection.
And protection cannot stop with parents.
Schools must take responsibility. Teachers hold enormous influence over children, and that influence must always be accompanied by professional boundaries and safeguarding.
We also need to stop treating family reputation as more important than a child's safety.
If a child says that a trusted adult has harmed them, the response cannot be, “Do not tell anyone; this will bring shame to the family.”
The shame belongs to the person who abused the child—not the child.
We should never ask a child to carry the burden of protecting an adult's reputation.
Somalia needs stronger child-protection systems, but systems alone will not solve this problem. We need parents who talk to their children. We need teachers who understand safeguarding. We need healthcare workers who know how to respond. We need community and religious leaders who encourage protection rather than silence. And we need services that children and families can safely reach.
There are encouraging developments. UNICEF Somalia reported the development of a National Child Helpline to provide children and concerned adults with confidential access to trained child-protection workers and referrals to health, legal and psychosocial services.
But prevention begins long before a child calls a helpline.
It begins at home.
It begins with a mother talking to her daughter.
It begins with a father talking to his son.
It begins when parents stop thinking, “My child is too young to understand.”
Perhaps the child is young.
That is exactly why we should teach them in a simple, age-appropriate way.
We do not need to frighten children.
We do not need to tell them that every adult is dangerous.
We simply need to give them something powerful:
knowledge, language and someone they can trust.
Because if a child knows that they can speak, and knows that an adult will listen, they may be more likely to break the silence when something goes wrong.
The question is not whether we want to have this uncomfortable conversation.
The question is whether we are willing to have it before something happens.
Let us teach our children before they need the lesson.
Let us teach them that their bodies belong to them.
Let us teach them that they can speak.
Let us teach them that asking for help is not shameful.
And let us teach ourselves, as adults, that protecting a child is more important than protecting silence.
We cannot promise every child that they will never encounter someone who wants to harm them. But we can make sure every child knows: “If something happens, you can tell me. I will listen. I will believe you. And I will protect you.”
That is where prevention begins.
Teach them before it happens.
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About the author
Dr. Rahma Yusuf Haji Mohamud is a Public and Tropical Health Specialist and Health Services Manager at Yardimeli Specialist Hospital in Mogadishu, Somalia.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Dawan Africa.