Sharmin, 13, works at a plastic recycling factory as a boy plays on a heap of bottles in Dhaka, Bangladesh on June 12, 2014. (A.M. Ahad/AP)
Children play football in front of an abandoned train compartment next to a railway track in Dhaka on May 29, 2014. (Andrew Biraj/Reuters)
A veiled woman stands inside a compartment as the train approaches a station in Dhaka, Bangladesh on May 29, 2014. (Andrew Biraj/Reuters)
Children play at a shipyard by the river Buriganga, on the outskirts of Dhaka, Bangladesh on May 19, 2014. (Andrew Biraj/Reuters)
A toddler sits atop empty bottles at a recycling centre in Dhaka, Bangladesh on April 29, 2014. (KM Asad/Zuma Press)
A Bangladeshi mourner and relative of a victim of the Rana Plaza building collapse reacts as she takes part in a protest marking the first anniversary of the disaster at the site where the building once stood in Savar on the outskirts of Dhaka on April 24, 2014. The Rana Plaza building collapsed on April 24, 2013, killing 1138 workers in the world’s worst garment factory disaster. Western fashion brands faced pressure to increase help for victims as mass protests marked the anniversary. Thousands of people, some wearing funeral shrouds, staged demonstrations at the site of the now-infamous Rana Plaza factory complex. (Munir uz Zaman/AFP Photo)
How did the clothes you’re wearing get to you? View the interactive
Mukhta Mollah deftly smooths the red fabric and guides it through a whirling sewing machine. She sews side seams on women’s blouses bound for America. Eight hours a day or longer in this hot and sweaty factory. Six days a week.
On this day, like every workday, she will try to reach a target of 1,000 blouses.
Seamstresses sit all around her in rows that stretch across this factory floor crowded with 350 workers. Fluorescent lights buzz and blink overhead. Enormous fans nosily push around the stagnant air, which carries the familiar scent of new clothes.
It takes Mollah less than 30 seconds to complete her part of the blouse. A helper snips the thread ends and piles the garments into a bin to take to the next station. Mollah has long grown accustomed to the mind-numbing repetition, the unrelenting din, the glare, the heat.
She knows that she won’t get rich; she sends nearly half of her $20-a-week wages home to her family. But she’s grateful that the salary, no matter how small, gave her the means to escape her home village and the fate of her schoolgirl friends.
All of them were married before age 16. All have children of their own. All have moved in with their husbands’ families and must get permission from their mothers-in-law to leave the house.
"For them, it’s a cage," said Mollah, 19. "My life is much better than theirs because they have no freedom. When I go back to my village and see my friends, they ask me, ‘Can you take us with you?’"
Bangladesh’s garment industry has earned a reputation for harsh and sometimes lethal working conditions. An eight-story factory collapsed last April, crushing more than 1,100 workers. Six months earlier, a factory fire killed 112 people who could not flee because their bosses had locked the doors to keep them working.
Despite the horrific industrial accidents and accusations of labor abuses — such as forced workweeks of 80 hours — the picture of the underpaid and over-exploited garment worker gets more complicated when compared with other options available to women in this poor, traditional Muslim society. About 5,600 factories in Bangladesh employ more than 4 million people; 90% of the workers are female.
In stark black-and-white images, Gazi Nafis Ahmed takes an intimate look at Bangladesh’s marginalized gay community.
Read the full story here.