My friends, they get married at 15 years old. I saw them with

In the words of Sonita Alizadeh, a voice forged in struggle and truth, we hear a cry that pierces through time: “My friends, they get married at 15 years old. I saw them with bruises on their faces. I realized this is the real face of child marriage.” These are not the words of a scholar or a ruler—they are the words of one who has seen suffering with her own eyes and refused to turn away. They are a testimony, a revelation born not of books but of pain. In her voice, the veil of innocence is torn aside, revealing the cruel face of a tradition that calls itself sacred while breaking the bodies and spirits of children.

Child marriage—those two words, heavy and ancient, have hidden behind the false sanctity of custom for generations. But Sonita, like a prophet of her people, exposes its truth: it is not love, nor destiny, nor honor—it is bondage. When she says she saw her friends with bruises on their faces, she speaks not only of wounds to the skin, but of the bruises upon the soul—the marks left by a society that silences its daughters before they learn their own names. In her vision, the “real face of child marriage” is revealed: it is the face of fear, of pain, of dreams stolen before they are born.

To understand her words is to travel into the heart of her story. Born in Afghanistan and raised in Iran, Sonita Alizadeh was a girl whom her family once sought to sell as a bride. But within her burned a fire that no price could extinguish. She found her voice in rap, that fierce music of resistance, and through it she sang for every silenced child. Her song “Brides for Sale” shook the world, echoing from the alleys of Tehran to the halls of nations. Through rhythm and truth, she became a warrior without a sword—fighting not with violence, but with voice, with courage, with art. Her story stands as proof that even in darkness, the human spirit can become its own light.

In the ancient world, too, there were those who defied the weight of custom. Consider Hypatia of Alexandria, the philosopher who chose knowledge over submission and paid with her life. Or Savitribai Phule of India, who in the 19th century opened the first school for girls in defiance of a world that said women should remain unlearned. These women, like Sonita, saw the suffering of their sisters and refused to call it fate. They understood that oppression survives only through silence, and that a single voice raised in truth can shake the pillars of empire.

The meaning of Sonita’s words lies in the unveiling of illusion. The world often hides its cruelties beneath gentle names—calling control “protection,” or slavery “tradition.” But she reminds us that every injustice, when stripped of its mask, shows the same face: power over the powerless, the strong feeding on the voiceless. Her revelation is not simply about child marriage—it is about every system that demands the sacrifice of innocence for the comfort of the old ways. She shows us that truth begins not in theory, but in witnessing—in daring to look upon suffering and name it for what it is.

Yet her message is not despair—it is awakening. From her pain rises a call to the conscience of the world: Do not look away. Every child forced into marriage, every dream crushed under the name of honor, is a wound upon all of humanity. To heal that wound, one must act. Educate the girls. Empower the families. Confront the customs that destroy what they claim to preserve. The fight against child marriage is not only a battle for justice—it is a battle for the soul of civilization itself.

So let the lesson of Sonita Alizadeh be carried as a sacred flame. When you see injustice, do not accept it as ancient law. When you witness suffering, do not wrap it in silence. Speak, create, resist. Remember that every act of truth, however small, weakens the chains of oppression. The ancients taught that to see truth is to bear responsibility for it; Sonita lives that wisdom. Her words are not only a warning—they are a summons. She reminds us that to fight for the freedom of one child is to defend the future of all humankind.

And thus, let her voice echo through the ages: “This is the real face of child marriage.” May those words be a mirror held to the conscience of the world. May they stir the hearts of those who hear them to act—not tomorrow, but now. For in her truth lies the timeless law of the just: that no tradition, no culture, no name of god or man can sanctify cruelty. Where children are chained, humanity itself is broken—and where one girl stands and speaks, the dawn begins to rise.