Aksonethip Somvorachit spoke with UN News about the challenges he has faced as a focal point for PEAS staff.
“Early in my career at the UN, I took on the responsibility of serving as the focal point for Prevention of Sexual Exploitation and Abuse (PSEA). I acted as a confidential contact for anyone who raised a concern, providing them with a safe space to be heard and helping them access support, even when immediate action might seem distant.
At first, I was proud to take on the role. I believed I could make a difference. But soon reality hit me. A young colleague approached me: 'I don't want to report anything. I just need someone to listen to me.
He described flirtatious comments from his outside counterparts that his boss had dismissed as jokes. To her, it wasn't a joke: it made her feel insecure.
Some co-workers had also started making comments behind her back: “She only got the job because of her looks” or “She's just being dramatic for attention.” I wasn't asking for an investigation; I just needed a safe space to be heard. Each plea ended the same way: “Please don't tell anyone.”
Feel diminished
I listened, remembering my own experiences. As a young Laotian woman, I had faced similar treatment from my external counterparts: they would belittle me, ask me to bring drinks, or call me 'girl', behaviors that made me feel belittled.
It was mentally exhausting to handle my own challenges while remaining professional and advocating for others.
I tried to guide and help whenever possible. Each revelation weighed a lot. Procedures existed, but without strong internal support it was difficult to make significant changes. He took responsibility for addressing these concerns, offering advice and reassurance whenever he could.
My dedication never wavered, but some results were beyond my control. The emotional strain of managing so many stories, while waiting for the right support to arrive, was intense.
In the end I quit, not because I stopped caring, but because the responsibility of caring for so many people without practical tools to help became overwhelming.
Faith restored
However, in the midst of that struggle, there were cases that restored my faith.
On my first official mission, it was just me, a high-level colleague, and our driver. I was anxious and insecure. However, he treated me as an equal: he offered me the back seat, checked if I wanted to rest, and asked the driver to be careful with me. At the border, he lined up for all of us, passport in hand. He didn't have to, but his thoughtfulness and thoughtfulness said it all.
On another assignment, a partner organization scolded me in front of others for not carrying my supervisor's bag. I was frozen. My supervisor calmly intervened: “She's my colleague. I can carry my own bag.” One line, one act, ended the lack of respect.
Then came the rainy night before a site visit. Almost all the chairs were soaked. Someone said disdainfully: “You don't need to sit down, right?” I was about to bend over when my supervisor guided me to sit near her. That small gesture made me feel included and recognized.
Looking back, these actions were more than kindness: they were prevention in practice. By being attentive to my dignity, my colleagues and supervisors inadvertently discouraged others from crossing borders.
be valued
When senior staff introduced me as a peer, not “their staff,” external partners took notice. It was a silent but powerful message: she is valued; she must not be diminished.
Without even realizing it, these behaviors put me at lower risk of being mistreated or harassed by outside counterparts.
These protective gestures required no additional training or resources—just mindfulness, thoughtfulness, and intentional leadership.
Young female staff nationwide, in particular, can protect themselves from harm through these thoughtful actions, measures that any supervisor can take without formal programs.
When I later joined the UN Resident Coordinator's office, it felt like a completely different world. They never made me feel “less.” Even the Resident Coordinator – the highest-ranking UN official in the country – introduced me as a colleague, not “my staff.”
That distinction was deeply important. I never heard anyone call me “little girl, come here” again. Now it is simply: “Sister, can I count on your support to…?” A silent but powerful gesture of respect and trust, replacing the disdain I once endured.
Therefore, with the confidence I found, I rejoined the PEA Working Group.
Small acts of recognition create a ripple effect, empowering others to stand up, be heard and take action. “What begins as a single gesture can become a culture of dignity, safety and solidarity for all those around us.”
