What does safe mean to you?: young photographers share images of family, friendship and hope – in pictures

Dennis Taban Okeny is from South Sudan but now lives in Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya, where he says ‘safety is not just physical security; it encompasses emotional well-being, a sense of belonging, and the opportunity to dream without fear’. He founded Fly Bring Smile, a refugee-led art organisation that teaches young children to express themselves and share their stories through their artwork. Here he has photographed a child studying by lamplight in Kakuma.

Children gather water from one of the community tanks in Kakuma refugee camp. Okeny’s photos of the daily lives of refugees in Kakuma ‘highlight the small joys that bring light to our darkest days’.

Diego Francisco Sánchez Lázaro, 23, from Costa Rica, produced a series of photos called Caminos Invisibles/Unseen Paths about young people with different visual disabilities in Costa Rica, exploring their experiences, challenges and ways of overcoming them.

In Francisco’s picture of Camila Valverde she has written: ‘I describe the love I have for my mom in what is written here: every word on this piece of paper reflects the moments we have shared and the unbreakable bond between us.’

This photo was taken in Tal al-Zaatar, northern Gaza, as part of a series called عشانك (For You). The 24-year-old photographer, who prefers not to be identified and uses the name Fatem, says: ‘The photo shows two friends … one of them holds an umbrella to shade her friend from the sun, creating a scene where colour triumphs over the destruction. At that moment, I saw the emotions and laughter shared between the two girls as if each one was telling the other, ‘I am always here for you.’

Fatem says: ‘I once asked a friend why she always wears the keffiyeh at every important occasion. She answered, “It makes me feel safe, like a gentle embrace.” For us, the keffiyeh embodies the land, our homeland, Palestine. Through this photo, I wanted everyone to feel that the keffiyeh is the soul of our country and that our homeland will for ever hold us close. No matter how many strangers may occupy it, it will never feel like exile.’

Marrio Joens Ikirezi, 22, from Cameroon, was born to Rwandan refugees who fled the 1994 genocide. She lost her father to violence in 2014, and in 2021, survived a traumatic kidnapping and sexual assault. Her photos are part of a project called Amitié (Friendship). She says: ‘The image of hands making a heart represents this precious bond, this capacity of friendship to create a space where we feel accepted and safe. These intertwined hands symbolise the unconditional support that kept me standing when everything seemed to be falling apart.’

Inessa Avanesova is a photographer and filmmaker from Yerevan, Armenia. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, her family was forced to relocate to Armenia from Artsakh (also known as Nagorno-Karabakh). She took this picture of her sister holding a roll of negatives; family photos provide a tangible link to the past. She says: ‘Today, history repeats itself. Many children and teenagers have been forced to leave Artsakh [after Azerbaijan reclaimed the area in 2023] and find new homes in Armenia. Even though I am not a refugee, I grew up surrounded by stories of displacement.’

This photograph of a child sleeping is called Evening Nap in the Backyard. Avanesova says: ‘Often, I long to wrap myself in a blanket and drift into the kind of sweet sleep I knew as a child, when the worries of tomorrow didn’t exist. Now, I can envelop myself in those memories of childhood, thanks to the photographs my grandfather took – images that preserve the warmth and safety of that time.’

Lisara Thapa Magar is based in Kathmandu, Nepal. This photograph is part of her project Within Narrow Walls about her experience of growing up in overcrowded accommodation. In this image she describes the freedom space and solitude bring: ‘I feel safe enough to nurture myself. In my solitude, I bloom.’

‘All my life, I have lived in a house that feels too crowded. There is no room here for me, or my feelings. I constantly feel submerged underwater – disoriented and struggling to breathe,’ Magar says.

Albert C Reyes is a student and self-taught street photographer from the Philippines. He took this image of a mother and child hugging while they waited for customers at their food store in Taguig city as part of his photo essay Pamamalo: A Tradition to Forget. Pamamalo is the practice of corporal punishment, which persists in Filipino households despite positive parenting approaches promoted by the government and child rights advocates.

In this image Reyes shows Sabel feeding her baby while working. Sabel says parenting is hard especially if you are doing it alone. When she was a child the discipline she received from her parents included being hit by a belt, dos por dos (wood), and a metal rod all over her body. Now that she is a parent, she doesn’t want her child to experience the same, but says her kids do not listen to her sometimes. ‘I do not want to spank them but they are stubborn so I have to do it,’ Sabel says.

Aidah is an eco-feminist and photographer from Uganda. For her photo essay Places We Can Be she photographed her friends who identify as LGBTQ+ ‘expressing freedom, play and love in a political environment that is criminalising the existence and expression of queerness’. Her photos are taken among nature, which she describes as providing ‘a playground’ where no one is policed or judged.

Friends of Aidah hold hands in this photo titled Sapphics in Green. ‘The space for gentle intimacy is a big part of this queer friendship and community,” Aidah says.

Ivy Marie Mangadlao is a photojournalist from Butuan City, Southern Philippines. Her photo essay Safe focusses on the Seawikan Kids Patrollers of Halian Island in southern Philippines, formed after Typhoon Rai (Odette in the Philippines) devastated the island in 2021. They are ‘a group of young children who participate in beach clean-ups and environmental and social activities. By their actions these kids actively contribute to the creation of a more sustainable and safe environment,’ says Mangadlao.

Every Saturday morning at 6.30am, the Seawikan Kids Patrollers gather to clean the coastline, picking up trash, sorting it and documenting their collections. Through their activities the children are ‘proactive change agents, taking charge of their environment and their futures’, says Mangadlao.

Obedine-Flore Nagana from Cameroon is a software engineering student at the African Leadership University. She has documented the stories of young people affected by the anglophone crisis in Cameroon, which began in 2016, has caused widespread internal displacement and violence. Many now live in shelters. Nagana says: ‘We glimpse the close-knit bonds that form when space is scarce … even in limited space, the bonds of family can provide hope and comfort.’

Studying by candlelight in one of the shelters. ‘I study every night, even if it’s just by candlelight,’ says Bryce, his face glowing in the darkness. ‘No matter what happens around us, I won’t stop learning.’