The Bosnian Women Rewriting a Legacy of Violence

Ajna Jusić, 32, is not tethered to her origins. A psychologist, activist and recipient of the U.S. State Department’s International Women of Courage Award, she leads Forgotten Children of War — the world’s first organization dedicated to advocating for children born of wartime rape. In Bosnia and Herzegovina, where an estimated 20,000 women were subjected to sexual violence during the 1992–1995 war, their children remain largely invisible.

Jusić was 15 when she learned the truth of her own birth: her mother had been raped during the conflict. “I believe it’s important to separate where we come from [and] our future,” she told More to Her Story.

Others, like Alen Muhić, carry similar scars. Born in 1993 after his mother was assaulted by a Bosnian Serb soldier in Foča, he was abandoned as an infant and later adopted by a hospital janitor and his wife in the nearby city of Goražde. “You grow up with the feeling that something is missing, without knowing exactly what,” Alen said. “The hardest part is carrying the stigma, because it’s not something you chose;it’s the circumstances of your birth.”

Now in their thirties, Bosnia’s “forgotten children” are speaking out, demanding recognition in a country that has yet to fully acknowledge their existence.

“Children who have survived deserve for their story to be recognized and preserved,” says Muhić, while Jusić adds that it is impossible to change a person's origin but that we have to accept that just as happiness, trauma is at the core of human existence. “Sometimes we have to face trauma just as we have to come to terms with happiness.”

For decades, children born of wartime rape were invisible in Bosnia’s laws, facing stigma in society and discrimination in institutions. “There was a lot of misunderstanding, even condemnation,” said Muhić. “But over time, with courage and speaking out publicly, the barriers began to fall.”

One of the most painful bureaucratic hurdles was the requirement to list a father’s name on official documents, whether school enrollment, diplomas, or even dental forms. For many, that name belonged to a perpetrator who was neither present in their lives nor relevant to their identity. “It was difficult for the mothers as well; for my own mother it was especially hard, since she chose to keep me,” said Jusić.

Change began in 2021, when Forgotten Children of War petitioned institutions across the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina to replace “parents’ names” with “name of one parent.” Several municipalities have since amended their forms, though inconsistencies remain.

Ajna Jusić is embraced by Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, Executive Director of UN Women, at the official commemoration of the United Nations International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women "Orange the World: Generation Equality Stands Against Rape" on November 25, 2019. Photo: UN Photo/Evan Schneider

Progress has also come in the law. In 2022, Brčko District formally recognized children born of war as civil war victims, followed in 2024 by the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Republika Srpska has yet to adopt the measure. Advocates assert this recognition grants crucial access to healthcare, education, housing, employment support, and other protections long afforded to other vulnerable groups.

“Such legal solutions send a clear message: no child should be forgotten or stigmatized because of the circumstances of their birth,” said Ajna Mahmić, who is a legal coordinator at TRIAL International. Jusić added, “The law protects us from discrimination and gives legitimacy to our work.”

But stigma lingers, said activist Midheta Kaloper Oruli, who lost 13 family members in the war, adding that advocates like Muhić and Jusic, who share their personal accounts of the obstacles of stigma “will open doors, eyes, and hearts.”

“I didn’t want my life to be just a story of pain, but also proof that light can emerge from darkness,” said Muhić. “My parents taught me that family is not defined by blood, but by the heart.”

The laws protecting children of war rape in Bosnia can potentially serve other countries where children born out of war exist, said Mahmić of TRIAL International. But, legal recognition alone is not enough. 

“Only through a comprehensive approach can we create a sensitive, inclusive, and just society that leaves no one behind,” said Mahmić, adding that social readiness, art, education, and media engagement also need to be included. 

Samra Čardaković, also of TRIAL International, noted that the country’s Law on Civilian Victims of War — particularly its provisions for survivors of wartime sexual violence — is seen as a rare positive example in the region. She said it could serve as a model for countries currently experiencing conflict or navigating its aftermath, “especially with Ukraine, where the issue of reparations and legal recognition of victims is being raised,” Čardaković explained.

That expertise is increasingly sought abroad. In June, Jusić traveled to the Democratic Republic of Congo, where spoke at the country’s first National Forum on the Right to Reparation to share Bosnia’s experience as both a warning and a roadmap for securing justice.

For Muhić, the fight for recognition carries a universal message. 

“If you want to start something similar, be prepared for patience, consistency and, above all, empathy. Every action, no matter how small it seems, can make a huge difference,” Muhić said. “Believe in the power of truth.”