Insider Story: Behind the smiles in Paraguay — the secrets children carry

Above: In Paraguay, silence has hidden violence for generations. You’re helping make it visible.

I know firsthand the case of a six-year-old girl who was groped and kissed by an uncle in the family.

At the time, it was a game for her.

A secret she couldn’t tell anyone.

At least that’s what the adult kept telling her. It wasn’t until she became a teenager that she was able to talk about it — when she realized that what had happened wasn’t normal. It also took a long time for her to understand it wasn’t her fault.

With your support, the silence is breaking. Progress is fragile, but change is possible.

When home isn’t safe

In Paraguay, sexual abuse of children is high — 95 percent of cases occur in trusted places: home, school, or during extracurricular activities, like soccer. Every two hours, a child or adolescent becomes a victim.

These are not just numbers for me.

When I was six or seven, my favourite show was about a girl in an orphanage dreaming of being adopted. I pretended all my dolls were orphans, and I was the director who found families for them. I grew up always wanting to do something so children wouldn’t suffer.

That dream has shaped all of my 32 years in the communications and children’s sector — including 17 with Children Believe. This is who I am. It’s my mission in life.

What’s behind the smiles

Above: Behind the bright smiles, many children carry burdens they cannot speak about.

Paraguay was named one of the happiest countries in the world a couple of times. We’re optimistic and cheerful, but a well-known phrase is: “if there’s poverty, don’t let it show.”

You always put on your best clothes and your best attitude when someone visits. When a Canadian sponsor comes, families dress their child up and fix their hair neatly.

From the outside, the need may not look as visible as in some other countries. But it’s just as urgent — simply harder to see.

The weight of silence children inherit

Alfredo Stroessner’s dictatorship lasted 35 years — the longest and most terrible in Latin America.

As teenagers, our parents lived in a society where you had to remain silent to survive, where children could not have an opinion.

Although the dictatorship fell in 1989, we still struggle to participate and demand our rights. A child who suffers abuse in the places they should feel safe doesn’t know where to turn — and often doesn’t even know there is another reality.

Too often, violence is seen as “normal,” because their mothers lived it, their grandmothers lived it, and the silence was passed down.

As a result of the trauma, children miss classes, drop out, perform poorly, and isolate. In severe cases, they’re taken from their homes and placed in institutions. It perpetuates disadvantage and submission.

Exploitation disguised as care

Criadazgo is a normalized practice where families from the countryside send their young children to wealthy households, typically in the capital, to cook, clean, and care for other children in exchange for housing, food, and schooling.

It is one of the worst forms of child labour — exploitation disguised as humanitarian aid. Although some families may treat them kindly, many children are sexually abused and attend night school only after long hours of housework or caring for other children.

Beyond criadazgo, children face other abuses too — from sexual violence to neglect and forced labour.  

Cycles that steal children’s choices

Poverty, a macho culture, and the wounds left by Paraguay’s dictatorship — along with weak state presence and the migration of mothers for work — leave children vulnerable to abuse.

That vulnerability shows up in pregnancies — an average of 30 girls and adolescents become mothers every day — as well as in early marriage, physical punishment, and beliefs that normalize abuse. Children are often seen as objects, with adults deciding what is “best.” For many, even talking to children about rights feels like a threat to their authority.

A culture of resignation — “this will just pass sooner or later” is a common phrase — one of passivity that contributes to violence repeating from one generation to the next.

The butterfly that changed a little girl’s world

Above: A simple butterfly became a symbol of hope — reminding children and parents that no one should ever hit a child.

In 2013, Children Believe Paraguay joined the Free from Violence campaign as part of the ChildFund Alliance. One story described a child’s hand being forced into boiling water — I knew I had to do more. We raised awareness, collected signatures, pressed government — part of a global effort that helped make child protection a key target in the 2015 United Nations 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development.

Later, at a community centre, I asked a little girl what the butterfly on the campaign poster meant. In her tender voice, she said: “It means that parents shouldn’t hit their children.”

That moment — that little voice — made everything connect.

How children and communities are fighting back

Above: When children use their voice, everything changes — they demand their rights, and they begin to dream again.

With donor support, we work closely with families, schools, communities, and governments to stop violence.

• In communities: We train adults and empower children to recognize abuse and protect one another. Tools like the Protection Traffic Light help families act early, while survivor services connect children with shelter, counselling, and legal aid. We also strengthen youth leadership through networks like the Association in Defence of Children’s Rights, where children protect one another and make their voices heard.
  
  And we are seeing results. In the communities where we work, violent discipline has fallen from 50 percent to 25 percent — while nationally it still affects more than half of children.
   
• Nationally: We co-lead the We Are All Responsible campaign — securing tougher penalties for abusers, a national registry, and new prevention guides for teachers and caregivers. Every May, Paraguay lights its landmarks green to break the silence.
   
• Globally: Through campaigns like Free from Violence, we’ve pressed for change — helping make child protection part of the United Nations 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development and lifting children’s voices at international forums.

Because of this 30-year track record, Children Believe Paraguay is now recognized as a Centre of Excellence in protecting children.

Progress is fragile. Paraguay has new child-protection laws, but weak implementation and under-resourced local councils, like the Children’s Rights Council, leave gaps. That’s why our work alongside communities is vital — stepping in where the system falls short.

Silence is finally breaking

Above: A national campaign poster in Paraguay — part of the movement you’re supporting to make abuse visible and protect children.

In 2019, Paraguay launched the national We Are All Responsible campaign against child sexual abuse. Led by the Ministry of Childhood with partners like Children Believe, it was the first time this issue was spoken about so openly.

At the start, we were shocked to find that 80 percent of abuse cases happened in the family or another trusted place. Now, in the campaign’s seventh year, data shows it’s 95 percent.

This doesn’t necessarily mean abuse is increasing — it means the problem is now visible. There’s awareness. And people are reporting it.

In 2024 alone, more than 22,000 cases of violence against children were reported — most were girls between 10 and 13 years old. In fact, every day in Paraguay, eight to nine new cases of child sexual abuse are formally reported — proof that silence is breaking, even as the problem remains devastating.

When children use their voice

Above: Lilac Agents — young leaders in Paraguay working to protect children in their communities from violence.

As part of my work, I often collect the testimonies of young people leading change. One of them, Mirley, a member of the Lilac Agents youth group, shared a moment that deeply moved her:

“During training, a girl told me she was abused from a young age and never had the courage to speak up. When someone came to her school to explain rights, she finally trusted them, spoke out, and was adopted by a loving family. That really touched me — it showed me these actions save lives.”

And she’s not alone. “I used to be shy, but now I can speak in public,” is a common testimony we hear again and again.

When we hear these voices from children, everything we do makes sense.

Turning family pain into strength

Above: Rosanna turns her family’s struggles into strength for the next generation.

What keeps me going is simple: Children’s smiles, leaving a better world for them, doing my part — and making my family proud, including my parents, who from heaven may know I put into practice the best of them.

My paternal grandmother had to raise her younger siblings because her father took them away from their mothers and left her with the burden. She only met her mother once — and never again. My mother was just seven when she was sent to a convent boarding school, only seeing her parents on summer vacations. Every time I hug my children, I do it on their behalf — for the hugs my grandmother and mother didn’t have and certainly needed.

Every time I write a story or create content from our communities, I do so in the hopes of contributing something positive to children’s lives.

Too often, children smile through struggles we can’t see — a reminder that poverty and suffering don’t look the same everywhere.

We are all responsible to protect children — all children, all over the world, rich and poor, no matter the colour of their skin, those who look in need and those who seem to have everything. Each of us, no matter where we are or what we do, can play a part — and even the smallest action can spark big change.

Together, we are giving children in Paraguay the chance to grow up safe and free from violence. I am grateful for you.

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