This article follows on from my recent piece, Grief After 60. There, I explored how personal loss, whether through death, health changes, or unexpected turns in life, shapes us in later years. But grief doesn’t always come only from within our homes or families. Sometimes it rises when we witness suffering in the wider world. This is what I call collective grief, the sorrow we feel for children and women who remain hidden in cycles of exploitation.
By the time we reach our 60s, we have known loss in many forms. That makes us especially attuned to the pain of others. When we hear about children trafficked into labor, women exploited in brothels, or families torn apart by poverty and migration, something in us aches. We recognize the human cost. We know what safety and dignity mean because we’ve built lives around them, and we can imagine the despair when those are stripped away.

Grief after 60 becomes not only personal, but global and collective.
Exploitation does not appear out of thin air. It grows where social, political, and economic cracks already exist.

While exploitation is global, it takes different shapes depending on where you look.
In the United States and Europe, trafficking often hides in plain sight. Victims may be domestic workers, farm laborers, or young women promised “modeling jobs” that turn into nightmares. The U.S. State Department estimates that hundreds of thousands of people are trafficked annually in the U.S. alone. Europe sees similar numbers, especially among migrants from Eastern Europe and Africa.
In Latin America, economic inequality drives much of the exploitation. In countries like Ecuador, Colombia, and Brazil, children are recruited into forced labor or trafficked across borders. Tourism, both legitimate and illicit, adds another layer of risk.
In Asia, with its dense populations and vast informal economies, some of the highest numbers of exploited children and women are found. The International Labour Organization estimates over 11 million people in forced labor across Asia and the Pacific.
In Africa, exploitation is often tied to conflict, poverty, and displacement. Child soldiers, forced labor in mines, and trafficking of young girls for domestic work remain heartbreaking realities.
While the settings differ, the common threads are always vulnerability and invisibility.
Sometimes statistics help us feel the scale of what words cannot capture.
Behind each number is a face we may never see, but their absence presses against our collective conscience.
It is easy to feel powerless in the face of such enormity. But grief can be a catalyst. Here are ways we can make a difference.

Yes, the children we don’t see are hidden. Yes, their grief feels overwhelming. But acknowledging it is the first step toward healing. Our collective grief can be turned into collective strength.
At 60 and beyond, we are not bystanders. We are witnesses, advocates, and caretakers of empathy. By refusing to look away, by raising our voices and joining our hands, we honor those whose pain is often unseen. And in that act, we also find healing for ourselves.
How do you take part in collective grief? What stories touch your heart the most?
Very powerful article, thank you for this reminder.
Great article, very sad state of affairs when this is still happening in 2025.