The recent allegation of the sexual violation of a five-year-old differently-abled child in Region Nine is not only heartbreaking. It is enraging. It is a sickening reminder that in our society, even the most vulnerable are not spared from the darkest forms of violence. And yet, amid the outrage, too many remain perched on moral high ground, debating optics while failing to confront the epidemic that has rooted itself in our communities: child sexual abuse.
This tragedy is not an isolated incident. It is part of a broader national crisis. Child sexual abuse in Guyana is a scourge, a pandemic that continues to destroy lives and futures, often with silence as its shield and impunity as its partner.
In 2024, authorities recorded 1,203 cases of child sexual abuse, making up nearly 30 percent of the more than 4,000 reported incidents of child abuse for that year. The scope of the crisis becomes even clearer with figures from the Ministry of Human Services and Social Security, which indicate that over 300 sexual assault cases are reported every month, and more than 70 percent of these involve children.
These statistics are disturbing on their own, but experts warn that they do not reflect the full extent of the problem. In remote and Indigenous communities such as Hiawa, where the latest alleged assault took place, victims often remain silent, constrained by stigma, fear, economics, community pressure and limited access to support or justice.
Data from UNICEF adds further weight to this crisis. Studies reveal that between 20 and 30 percent of children in Guyana have endured some form of sexual violence in their lives. That is nearly one in every three children.
Our society continues to fail our children. There is little or no accountability, meaningful intervention and structural change.
Last week, Village Voice News reported on the alleged violation of the five-year-old girl. The article sparked criticism from some regarding the pictorial representation and publication of the child’s record. In hindsight, the editorial team recognises the misstep. The child’s record was withdrawn within hours, and we extend our sincere apology to the family and all affected. We accept that trauma must never be compounded by insensitivity.
However, to those who were disturbed by what they saw and heard, good. Let it disturb you. Let it move you beyond passive consumption. Let it rouse you into action.
Because what happened to that child was cruel, dehumanising, and utterly reprehensible. And if, in seeing that cruelty, you felt something — horror, anger, sorrow — then do not return quietly to your sofas. Do not shrink into polite silence. Raise hell.
We can no longer continue to blow hot and cold on this matter, choosing when to speak and when to be silent. You are either all in for the protection of our children or you are part of the problem. There is no middle ground when children’s lives and bodies are at stake.
Our children are being failed, not just by their abusers, but by the systems and adults who should protect them. Some of those adults are enablers. Some are silent. Some are complicit. Too many are indifferent.
To this end, we hope the story of that little five-year-old girl does more than move you. We hope it unsettles your soul. If not the details, then the image, or whatever image your mind conjures, should follow you. It should haunt you into action.
We cannot fight what we refuse to confront. Child sexual abuse is not faceless. It has a face. And that face must be made known. Whether through imagery, testimony, or the courage of survivors and families who choose to speak, this issue must be dragged into the light.
Justice must be demanded, not whispered for. It must be loud. It must be relentless. It must be national.
Because if we as a people cannot become indignant about the rape of our children, especially the most vulnerable among them, then what hope do we have?
Let this be a moment of reckoning. Let it be the moment we stop protecting reputations and start protecting children. Let it be the moment we, as a nation, say: Enough. Not one more
