World Day Against Child Labour. What justice looks like to a child.

My daughter asked me once where her trainers came from. Not the shop — before the shop. I said: a factory. She said: who works in the factory? I said: people, usually adults but sometimes children in some countries. She was quiet. Then: 'That's not fair.' I said: no. It isn't. This is what justice looks like to a nine-year-old: clear, immediate, personal. She'd been wearing the trainers for a month. The unfairness had been on her feet the whole time.

Justice is not a concept children need to be eased into. They arrive with it. What they need is accurate information about where it is and isn't being met — and a framework for what to do with that information. The framework is not comfortable. It is honest. And honesty, over time, builds more resilience than comfort.

Justice is not a concept children need to be eased into. They arrive with it. What they need is accurate information about where it is and isn't being met — and a framework for what to do with that information. My daughter is now twelve and still checks labels. The uncomfortable nine-year-old conversation produced something that three years of comfort could not have.