Hear Their Stories
This is Nasreen Sheikh at Local Women Handicrafts in Nepal when she was 15 years old. Read her story on how this modern-day slavery affected her life immensely.
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Nasreen Sheikh
Nasreen Sheikh was only 10 years old when she became trapped in the brutal world of child labor in Kathmandu, Nepal. After fleeing a small village near the Indian border to escape forced marriage and domestic servitude, she fell into the hands of the textile industry. There, in a hidden sweatshop, her life became a nightmare.
She lived, worked, and slept in a small, suffocating room she called a prison cell. Days blurred into nights as she worked 12 to 15 hours without rest. “My fingers were bleeding, but they forced me to keep going,” she remembers. “There was no pay unless the job was finished, no matter how long it took.”
To keep young girls like Nasreen awake, factory managers blasted loud music and threw cold water on their faces. Chemical fumes made it hard to breathe, and tangled electrical wires often sparked fires. Food was scarce and she often pulled threads from her mouth while trying to eat.
She slept on piles of unfinished clothes, her body aching and her spirit drained. “We were fed like animals and worked like machines,” Nasreen says. “I began to hate every garment I made but also envied them—they were free to travel the world, while I remained trapped.”
Her suffering left deep scars, both physical and emotional. She describes the trauma as something that never fully leaves her: “These memories remind me where I came from. They don’t let me forget the slavery I survived.”
But Nasreen didn’t stay silent. Today, she is one of South Asia’s most powerful voices against forced labor and gender-based exploitation. She founded Empowerment Collective and Local Women Handicrafts to help women gain independence through education, sustainable work, and fair wages.
She also co-leads the Good Clothes, Fair Pay campaign, demanding European legislation to ensure living wages for garment workers worldwide. “The fashion industry stole my childhood,” she says, “but it doesn’t have to keep stealing futures. If I could escape, so can millions of others—if the world finally chooses to care.”
Arifa
Arifa was only 10 years old when she began working in a garment factory outside Dhaka, Bangladesh. Her father could no longer work, and she became the family’s lifeline. What began as child labor turned into a 20-year career in the industry—one filled with exhaustion, pain, and sacrifice.
She started as a helper earning just 100 taka a month. Today, as a sewing machine operator, she works up to 14 hours a day for 2200 taka, far below a living wage. Despite two decades in the industry, Arifa’s income barely covers food, rent, and healthcare for her family of six. They live in a slum near the factory, where poor infrastructure and unsafe housing keep her in constant fear.
When Arifa returns home from the factory, her day is far from over. She cooks, cleans, and cares for her three children, her husband, his parents, and her grandparents, often with no help from her spouse. “Men dominate society here,” she says, “but I still fight for women’s rights at home and in the factory.”
Her workplace, like many in the fast fashion supply chain, is riddled with dangers. Arifa fears building collapses, fire hazards, poor lighting, and dirty conditions. She speaks openly about the lack of ventilation and basic safety. “I’m not afraid of the factory owner—I’m afraid of the factory itself,” she says.
Arifa is a proud member of the National Garment Workers Federation (NGWF), where she joins evening meetings despite resistance from her male relatives. Her activism causes tension at home, but she continues to speak out, driven by a vision of dignity and safety for all women in the industry.
Though the work is grueling and her body aches constantly, Arifa sees her job as a symbol of strength. “Through this work, I became independent,” she says. “And I’ll keep fighting—for myself, and for the women who are still voiceless.”