Why Forced Marriage Must Be Recognized as Trafficking

When people think of trafficking, they often imagine girls being smuggled across borders or locked in rooms by strangers. But trafficking doesn’t always involve abduction or physical chains. Sometimes, it happens in daylight. Sometimes, it looks like a child in a wedding dress.

I was 16 when I was forced into a marriage by my father to an older man. It happened in a registry office in the UK. I wore a white dress, posed for photos, and even signed a document I didn’t understand. Everyone around me smiled. No one intervened. But what happened to me was not love. It was not tradition. It was trafficking.

Forced marriage is a form of modern slavery. It involves exploitation, coercion, control and it robs a person of their autonomy, their body, and their future. It is often overlooked or dismissed because the perpetrator isn’t a stranger, it’s someone from your own family or community. But that doesn’t make it any less violent. It doesn’t make it any less criminal.

And when a child is forced into marriage, that child is being trafficked. Let me say this again: child marriage is always forced, because children cannot consent. No matter what language is used to dress it up whether it’s about honour, reputation, or expectations, the result is the same: exploitation, abuse, and stolen lives.

When I was taken out of education, isolated, and made to live under the control of a man I did not choose, I lost everything that makes a childhood safe and free. I didn’t know the term for what was happening to me, but now I do: I was trafficked into marriage. Essentially moved from my childhood home into a stranger’s house, I was trafficked.

I share this not just for myself, but for every girl who has been silenced by this hidden form of violence. For every survivor still trying to make sense of their pain.

My sister, Banaz who was 17 was also forced into marriage. She did everything she could to escape. She went to the police five times asking for protection. No one listened. In the end, she paid with her life. Her murder was called an “honor killing,” but there is no honour in abuse. There is no honour in control. And there is no honor in trafficking your own daughter.

The UN tells us that women and girls make up the majority of trafficked people worldwide, often targeted for sexual exploitation, forced labour, and yes, forced marriage. But this form of trafficking rarely makes the headlines. It hides behind closed doors, protected by silence and inaction.

We need to say it clearly: forced marriage is trafficking.

Governments must recognise it as such, not only in words, but in law. Authorities must be trained to see the signs and intervene early. Schools, police, social workers, and healthcare professionals must stop ignoring the red flags. And we, as a society, must stop turning away from what’s uncomfortable simply because it’s close to home.

Too many girls are still being sold into marriages they didn’t choose. Too many are being told their abuse is acceptable because it’s happening under the guise of family. These girls are not protected. They are trafficked. And we are failing them if we do not act.

On this World Day Against Trafficking in Persons, I choose to speak out as a survivor. I speak for every girl who never had the chance to choose. I speak for Banaz. And I speak for the countless others who are still waiting to be seen.

Trafficking doesn’t always look like what you expect. Sometimes, it looks like a child in a wedding dress. Sometimes, it looks like silence at the dinner table. Sometimes, it’s someone you know, someone you love, being exploited right in front of you.

We must call it by its name.

We must end it.