The Resilience Fund

Survivors of sex and labor trafficking are resilient and the true experts in the anti-human trafficking field. They teach us about some of the risk factors that contributed to their situations of trafficking so we can improve our prevention efforts. We are grateful to all the brave survivors who have shared, hoping that other potential victims can learn from their stories. There is support available if these stories make you concerned about yourself or others.

Aubree Alles

I was trafficked for 10 years. My trafficker controlled if I ate and when. She decided where I slept and for how long. When I was 18, I took a joy ride in my mom’s car. She called the cops, I was arrested, and sent to a faith-based dorm. That’s where I met my trafficker. She was pregnant at the time and she befriended me. We met for lunch after I got out and I really thought we were friends. I now know I was being groomed by her.

I was trafficked for 10 years. My trafficker controlled if I ate and when. She decided where I slept and for how long.

My experience with police during that period was entirely negative and I absolutely did not trust law enforcement. I have since worked with caring law enforcement professionals and I know they are out there, but at the time I never would have asked for help from them. When people ask, why didn’t you just call the cops and leave? I tell them, this is why. Many times, off-duty officers forced me to perform sex acts by threatening to arrest me.

At one point we were living in an extended stay hotel. This was almost two years and the owner definitely knew what was going on. My trafficker knew someone in the local sheriff’s department and whenever a raid was coming, we would know and slip out.

Overall, I was convicted 23 times for prostitution and related charges. The police knew who I was and what was happening but they did not listen or talk to me. They harassed me, made fun of me and acted disrespectfully. They would say “oh, she’s doing this because she’s an addict.” They didn’t understand that my trafficker used drugs to force me into sex trafficking.

When I did try to leave my trafficker always managed to stop me. The last time, in 2012, I had packed all my stuff and was going to meet a chaplain that I had met at jail who was going to take me to a safe house.

Instead, my trafficker showed up with five men, took me somewhere, locked me in, then managed to get me thrown back in jail.

It was there I finally decided that I had enough. I was tired of life and wasn’t sure I wanted to live. I said to myself, “If I share my story, maybe that will be one less girl, one less Aubree who has to go through this.”

I have been helping people get out of the life ever since I got out. Often I do that with help from the Trafficking Hotline.

Many times, we call the hotline for support, for someone to listen to our story. We are not always at the right place to leave, both physically and mentally. If I called the hotline and was told that we may have to report your information to the police, I would have dropped the call or maybe not called at all. It feels like deception.

There are many times we call because we just want someone to be there for us. When we have literally nothing – we can have that 5 minutes of someone listening to us, that caring and human connection.

But if I were to find out that the conversation is all documented and being passed on to the police, the conversation would be over.

When I finally got out, an officer from the sheriff’s department actually listened to me and cared about my story. I even flew back to Florida to be a part of the deposition. I made the choice and I was able to tell my story on my terms. I told my story because if it reaches just one Aubree, reaches just one person and helps them avoid a similar situation, that will be enough.

Susannah

I started being taken to other states against my will and became a high earner for my traffickers. The abuse I went through in those 4 years, was worse than the lifetime of abuse I had endured up to that point. I was sex trafficked for four years.

I reached out to the National Human Trafficking Hotline five years ago. They were able to connect me with resources, with housing, and with case management services. I do not know where I would be had I not made that call. I do know, that if they had not said, up front, clearly, that they would not call law enforcement, I would have hung up.

Prior to my sex trafficking, I was in a domestic violence relationship. My DV abuser had cut off access to everything I owned and all my money. I had no family or friends to turn to. I was middle class and a PTA mom. My domestic violence abuser was involved in local politics and was well known in our large community. I made a decision when faced with life or death and I ran for my life. I had nowhere to turn. I decided to try commercial sex. I had been having sex since I was two years old and knew that my body could provide income. I was not street smart. I had been in the life less than two weeks when I met someone I thought was my knight in shining armor. I was terrified my domestic violence abuser would continue to come after me and my trafficker promised me he could keep me safe. From my domestic violence abuser, he did. He did not keep me safe though. He would refer clients to me and I would give him a cut in return. I thought it was a business relationship. I thought I had the upper hand. My goal was to get housing and figure out a way to get my child from my domestic violence abuser.

Then it got controlling. At first, I received a cut of the money. After a few months, all the money I earned had to be handed over. I started being taken to other states against my will and became a high earner for my traffickers. The abuse I went through in those 4 years, was worse than the lifetime of abuse I had endured up to that point.

It took me a while to understand the big picture. I did not know the definition of trafficking. I grew up with sexual abuse and it continued throughout my adult life. I knew what I was experiencing was different from what I had gone through before. This was the first time in my life where I was labeled with a price and sold as goods to others. I have always dealt with shame over sexual abuse but trafficking stripped me of my dignity.

I got away the first time with the help of some acquaintances but the traffickers found me and brought me back. They took me to multiple states where they would set up clients. At some point, we stopped at a highway rest stop and I was allowed to go to the bathroom by myself. There was a sticker for the National Human Trafficking Hotline on the back of the toilet paper holder and I memorized the number. I knew that if I ever had the opportunity, this number could be my ticket to freedom.

I had no phone and no access to a phone but several months later, a situation occurred and I was able to get away and get access to a phone.

I called the Trafficking Hotline. The first question I was going to ask them was do you tell what I tell you to the police? My traffickers knew where my child was and they threatened that if I ever went to the police, they would harm my child. I knew too much about their operation and they knew my child’s safety would keep me silent.

I didn’t even have to ask. The person on the hotline told me right away that it was up to me if they told the police or not.

If that person had said we have to report, I would have hung up the phone and figured it out on my own. If I had been able to figure it out on my own. I was in a state I had never been in. I had only gotten a mile or two away before someone let me use their phone.

When I called the hotline, I was hiding behind a dumpster. They got me a bus ticket under a different name. They provided an opportunity for me to get out of my trafficking situation on my own terms. They did not put stipulations on what would have to take place for me to receive help. Until that point, everyone else had a say in my life except me. During my phone call with the hotline, everything was my choice. I had complete control of how things played out. If I didn’t get that help, I am unsure if I would have gotten out at that time. It is very likely they would have found me. It is also very likely they would have killed me and a third opportunity to escape would not have been possible. If the hotline had said that they would contact law enforcement, I would have sacrificed my freedom for my child’s safety. My traffickers had photos of my child waiting for the school bus that they would show me. This was not a threat without merit.

The hotline opened a door to freedom for me. They provided resources and connected me with agencies that provided day to day support. The hotline was my first point of contact and I am thankful they do not mandate law enforcement reporting. Coming out of trafficking does not have a guidebook. There is no easy path to follow that says this is how you go ahead and move forward as a person with a history, as a businesswoman, and as an entrepreneur. No one has a play by play for life when it butts up against some of the trauma you have experienced. I have learned how resilient I am. I have also learned I have a voice that matters. I am thankful for this opportunity to share how the hotlines policies and procedures impacted my life for the good.

Keyana Marshall

My abuser forced me to post ads online, pay the phone bills and get his cars fixed. Those actions were enough to land me in prison. I am still facing many hardships and I’m still being punished for being exploited.

Keyana Marshall is a trafficking survivor. Her story is in many ways typical of the countless thousands of vulnerable young people who are targeted, groomed, manipulated, addicted, dehumanized and then sold while still not old enough to drive or vote. But hers has an additional layer of horror. In the eyes of the law, Keyana is considered a trafficker herself. She served time in federal prison for conspiracy charges she obtained while being abused in a pimp-controlled exploitation.

Keyana and her husband recently moved to Ohio so she could work with a program supporting other survivors of sex trafficking. She is also working on developing her own survivor-led organization called “We Survived”. This organization is to support survivors and give them resources to navigate in many different areas of life. Keyana wants to support survivors’ journeys in academia, entrepreneurship, and community re-entry.

In any state Keyana lives in or visits, she is required to register as a sex offender. She feels this has stifled her ability to flourish in the community and limits employment opportunities. “I have been threatened, denied employment and stigmatized on this sex offender registry. I was exploited and I couldn’t choose who my trafficker exploited. I was charged with conspiracy to commit sex trafficking of children. This forced me onto a sex offender registry 3 years after I was released from federal custody. I didn’t do anything wrong. My abuser forced me to post ads online, pay the phone bills and get his cars fixed. Those actions were enough to land me in prison. I am still facing many hardships and I’m still being punished for being exploited.” Keyana explained in frustration.

Keyana grew up in Alaska in an environment of both love and chaos. She was born a few weeks before her mother turned 16. Her stepfather, also a high school student, began dealing drugs to support the family. “He was so young and naive, the game swallowed him whole,” Keyana explains. “He developed a persona who was much more crass and aggressive than the gentleman my mother initially met in high school. Drug dealing spread like religion amongst his social circles and my family went along for the ride.” Her grandmother was a loving and supportive figure in her life, but her family had many elements of dysfunction. Her mother was very strict and punished her harshly. “I was grounded all the time and beaten on a regular basis. I felt like I didn’t fit in my own family. I also had a lot of responsibility placed on me when my dad went to jail. The parentification only added to the family drama. I wanted to get away and I started running away as early as the 6th grade,” she recalled.

Ultimately, Keyana rebelled against authority. Her troubles began while she was working as a babysitter for a woman named Treena who ran an escort service. The grooming began. First, Treena showed her young babysitter what the good life could feel like, driving her around in a fancy car, sneaking her into clubs when she was underage. She and her friends frequently provided 15 year old Keyana with alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine. At the same time, she expanded Keyana’s duties beyond babysitting. She had her answer phones at the escort service and book appointments. She convinced her that she could buy her a high school diploma cheap and drop out with no consequences. “I live a good life, and I don’t have a diploma,” she told the impressionable young girl. Eventually, with the help of Treena’s girlfriend who supplied her with drugs and alcohol, Keyana was convinced to go on a “date.” She was 15. She didn’t even know enough to ask for the money and the buyer manipulated her. Treena was furious and Keyana had to do other dates to pay her back. Once she began, the actions made her sick. After Treena’s aggressive training and promotion, she eventually felt like that was what her life was destined to be and her only opportunity for success. Treena would discourage ‘recreational’ sex and say, “All these bitches are out here doing it for free, you might as well get paid!”

Keyana continued in “the life,” reliant on the constant flow of drugs and alcohol to keep going and doing the only thing she had been trained to do. Treena was abusive, manipulative and threatening but it was the only way Keyana knew how to survive. “She would be under the influence and become violent. She would pin me down, try to control my friendships, and even punched me in the face,” Keyana said. The cycle went on for years, in other cities and with other pimps. Eventually she wound up under the control of another, male trafficker who fed her addictions, manipulated her emotions, threatened her, beat her and kept her firmly under his control. What the pimp told her to do, she did, to avoid or deescalate the violence she knew would follow if she said no and because that was the only life she knew. Sometimes that meant posting pictures of other recruits on Craigslist. Sometimes it meant having unprotected sex with him against her will. Sometimes it meant counseling the other girls and women, supporting them, doing their hair and makeup and whatever illegal task he put her up to.

“When I didn’t want to do these things, he would become frightening and violent,” she explained. “He told me that since I was black I was destined to be a madam and needed to learn how to ‘run those bitches.’” Whenever I made suggestions he would tell me, “You want a mind of your own, don’t you?” and “We aren’t using your mind. This is my shit. You don’t have a mind of your own.” He also expressed that he didn’t want the other girls learning how to post ads and learn the business because they would leave him and make someone else rich. There could be 10 women in the apartment and he would remove them from our sight so they wouldn’t see how it was done.

I lived in a constant state of confusion. He was grooming me to be his madam and his wife. In street terms, this made me the ‘bottom girl’ or ‘bottom bitch.’ This means I was in longer standing than the women who came and went, and that I was to handle his affairs when he was around or even in jail. Due to the fact that I’d been exploited since the age of 15, he didn’t have to break my spirit or teach me how to book calls. Treena greased my wheels and he was ready to take me on the most unpleasant ride of my life.”

Eventually, the FBI learned of the pimp’s operation and began investigating. Keyana remembers at the time that she was actually glad law enforcement was stepping in because she thought it would help her break free from the pimp and start to rebuild her life. Instead, she got swept up in the process, given a lawyer who paid little to no attention to her case, and got charged with sex trafficking herself. She took the deal that was offered because she would likely otherwise spend 20 years behind bars. “I pleaded out because I was in fear, I was pressured, and completely uneducated,” she realizes in retrospect.

The worst part, for her, was the injustice. She has to register as a sex offender whereever she goes now. “The charge I ignorantly pleaded out to made it look like I was doing the same things he did to me, to other women and girls,” Keyana said. “The reality of the situation was that I was on drugs because that was the trafficker’s tool to achieve compliance. I did not consent to, nor did I profit from any illegal misconduct involving other girls/women that resulted from my exploitation. Just like every other slave, I was there because I was manipulated, in fear of homelessness, struggling with drug dependancy and fearful of the abuser.”

Today, Keyana is still struggling with the pain, the unfairness and the humiliation of having to register as a sex offender, but she is determined not to let her hard-earned experience go to waste. In addition to working with other trafficking survivors she is writing her own story to help others understand how the system works against victims in many cases, and how to survive even this, and come out strong, resilient and powerful on the other side. “When people google me, I know they’re getting just one side of the story. Most people don’t know that I was a bottom girl in an abusive pimp-controlled scenario. They just see me as a 34 year old woman.”

Ursel Hughes

I knew that if I didn’t leave now, I would not be able to keep my son safe. My life meant nothing to me but his life meant everything.

I was 20 years old and pregnant by my pimp. The further I got along in my pregnancy, the less I was able to “work” (sell sex) and the more violent he became. At around 7 months, he beat me so severely I was taken to the hospital. It was clear I had experienced violence of some kind. My teeth had been kicked in and my face was bruised and bloody.

Despite my visible injuries, I wasn’t sure what to say to the hospital staff when they asked me if I needed help. I knew the consequences of outing my pimp for what he was and I was scared of what would happen if I told them the truth. So instead, dropping my head to avoid eye contact, I just told them that I was fine and didn’t need help.

When the nurse I had spoken to returned, she gave me information on domestic violence shelters and a card that had the National Human Trafficking Hotline number on it. Shortly thereafter, once I was out of the hospital, I called the hotline and told them my story. The advocate I spoke to helped me think about how to keep both myself and my baby safe. She supported me in coming up with a plan to leave my pimp when I was ready. She also gave me a list of direct service providers to call if I needed shelter or other services.

I did not leave right away. After my son was born, I was forced to go back to selling sex. This was the turning point for me. I knew that if I didn’t leave now, I would not be able to keep my son safe. My life meant nothing to me but his life meant everything. Nothing was more important than protecting him. Terrified and brave, I called the numbers the hotline had given me. Because of the hotline, I had already thought through my plan for escaping and I already had somewhere to turn to when I was ready to leave. I am forever grateful to the hotline for this.

I want other survivors who may be considering leaving but are not sure where to turn or who may be afraid to call the hotline to know this: Making that first call is scary but nothing changes if you don’t change something yourself. I was scared when I made my first call but gratitude is an understatement for my feelings toward the hotline. The hotline didn’t just help me when I needed it. I truly believe that if it wasn’t for the hotline helping me when they did, my son would not be alive today.

James Evans

“I thought I was in control. I thought I was making these decisions. I thought this man wanted what was best for me and wanted to help me. It never crossed my mind that I was being used as bait, having unprotected sex with countless men for HIS profit.”

Growing up in a small, Midwestern town was not easy for a child like me. From a very young age, I knew I was different. I also knew that being different – being Gay – in my hometown was not acceptable.

My solution was to hide my authentic self and try to become the person that others wanted me to be, hoping eventually that the new “persona” would eventually snuff out the part of me that I was unwilling to accept.

The lies, fear, anger, resentment and secrets festered within me, creating a void that could not be filled. I began to rebel, searching for something or someone that could bring me peace. I found it in drugs and alcohol. I began drinking regularly. I would show up to high school with vodka in my water bottle. The shame and guilt led to anger and resentment towards everyone in my life. I withdrew from family and friends. I just wanted to get drunk and high so I could escape the reality that I was a Gay man.

Up until this point, I was a star pupil and class president. I was on the fast track to live the life that had been designed for me. Suddenly, I no longer wanted to live that life. In fact, I did not want to live at all.

Eventually, my fear of “being found out” became reality. Just as I had anticipated, my family was not able to accept that I was a Gay man. They insisted that it was a phase and I could choose to be different. I realize now that I shared that same belief. I was unable to love myself for who I was. I was afraid of burning in Hell for eternity because I was Gay.

One month before high school graduation, I left home and dropped out of school. Homeless, penniless, and alone, I wanted to just drink myself into oblivion – and I needed somewhere to do that. I sought out relationships with older men I knew could support me and my growing substance abuse issues. I also discovered the incredible feeling of being desired and wanted. The validation that I got from older men was just as good as any drug I could ingest.

But the high never seemed to last. I didn’t believe anyone understood what I was going through. Then I met a man on a “dating” app and everything changed. He understood what I was going through and told me that he saw potential in me. He told me about the amazing, glamorous life that he lived – traveling from city to city, attending high-profile Gay events, pride parades and exclusive clubs. He was charming and I believed I could trust him. He offered me a solution to my problems.

At this point, I was living in a dorm room at a college that I had gotten into after passing the GED exam. I was only there because I needed a place to sleep. I was on academic probation and I knew my days there were numbered. The man told me I had other options. He would teach me how to do massage therapy and I could live the glamorous and exciting life he offered. He promised the money would be great – especially because I was so “good looking.” I didn’t need an education. I could simply pack a bag and travel with him. Hopeless, I felt I had no other choice. I said yes.

He paid for my train ticket and I met him in Chicago. When I arrived, there were other men there who also traveled with him. They were not massage therapists. They were escorts. I was told that I could do massage – but I could make much more money if I had sex with the clients. The money that we made would then be pooled together to pay for the flights, advertisements and hotel accommodations. If there was any money left after that, I was told I would get a cut. I could make more if I helped recruit guys for the nightly live webcam shows. Every couple of days, we would book a hotel in another part of the country. Before we got on the plane, we would book a full day of escort clients in that new city.

I thought I was in control. I thought I was making these decisions. I thought this man wanted what was best for me and wanted to help me. It never crossed my mind that I was being used as bait, having unprotected sex with countless men for HIS profit.

Although hundreds and hundreds of dollars were handed over to this man in a given day, I was only given enough money to buy food. After one of the other guys introduced me to crystal meth, I became consumed. It was the only thing that could get me through this. I became a shell – detached from all emotion. I no longer had any respect for my body. My body was no longer my own. A piece of it belonged to every single man who violated it.

Eventually, I had a psychotic break. I became a liability and the men had the key cards to the hotel room changed. They skipped town and I became homeless in California – 3,000 miles away from home. I was used up and thrown away like a piece of trash from a fast food restaurant. That is exactly how I viewed myself – as a piece of trash.

I didn’t blame the men who left me there. I blamed myself. For years, I tortured myself. I replayed these events over and over and over in my mind. Like a prisoner being forced to watch his nightmares on a loop. Every day was the same. Even though time moved forward, I was still living each day in the past. I was stuck and unable to move forward.

Then something miraculous happened. In the depths of my despair, a stranger found me broken, beaten down and afraid, on the streets and took me to the hospital. I was given IV fluids, some food and an opportunity to go to drug and alcohol rehabilitation. I agreed to go because I needed a place to sleep and food to eat. I was sick and tired of eating leftover food from trash cans on the street. I was too tired to fight life anymore.

This was the beginning of the road to my recovery. Still tortured by the trauma of my past, I wrestled drugs and alcohol for many more years. I truly believed that no one else had experienced what I had experienced. I did not think that anyone could understand and that I would have to live with the pain for the rest of my life. I had isolated myself and was afraid of everyone. I did not trust anyone because I knew everyone wanted something from me. Then, in late 2017, I stumbled upon the Save house Project.

When I read through the survivor testimonials, I heard my story. I realized I was not alone. There was a name for what I had experienced. I had experienced sex trafficking. For so long I had denied this truth because it didn’t fit the narrative that I had been told about sex trafficking. When I read the stories and identified with the other survivors, I found acceptance and was willing to find a solution. I was tired of feeling helpless and stuck, so I took action. I picked up the phone and I called the National Human Trafficking Hotline. For the first time, I was asked to tell my story and I told it with honesty and clarity. I was told that I was not alone and that others had similar experiences. I felt validated. I was given the opportunity to name the man who had coaxed me into trafficking. I was also offered services and resources to help me on my healing journey. Something amazing happened after that phone call. I got my power back. I was finally set free and ready to move forward with my life.

I no longer live in my trauma. I choose to live in my strength. I have recently celebrated three years of sobriety. I am so proud of my recovery and my desire to LIVE. I went back to school and became a certified massage therapist. I cried when I got my Massage Therapist Certificate in the mail because a pamphlet for the National Human Trafficking Hotline fell out of the envelope when I opened it. I realized things had gone full circle and that I had made something beautiful out of my past.

My family loves and accepts me unconditionally today. In fact, my mother is my best friend! I fell in love and have built a life with an amazing, loving partner. I never imagined that I could trust another man or have a healthy relationship. I never believed I was worthy of love.

Today, I know that I am loved and I am able to love others without fear. I have found that peace that I had been searching for all along. You can find that too. Today, no one has to be alone.

Chrissi Bates

Looking back now, I do think that the men took advantage of a gay youth in a vulnerable spot by purchasing access to my body. I see that there were opportunities for me to have been identified — by teachers or medical professionals — but I wasn’t. Instead, I was treated like a throwaway.

At 16 years old, as a gay youth in my Junior year of high school, I was able to start connecting with people using social media and gay

hookup apps like Grindr. Up until that point, my upbringing had been challenging and lonely. I grew up in a home with a single mother who faced her own mental health issues and worked long hours. My father was largely absent – not by choice, but because of a hostile divorce. Many responsibilities fell on me from a young age and school didn’t provide much of an escape, since identifying as gay meant that I was treated like an outcast.

Once I was able to start posting pictures of myself online, older men (that I now refer to as the wolves to my Little Red Riding Hood) would compliment me and make me feel special, like they cared about me. Then, things began to escalate. Some of these men offered to pay me for sexual content like explicit photos and videos. Others offered me money to meet up with them for sex. Soon, I was not only exchanging sex for money to buy a phone and other luxuries that my single mother couldn’t otherwise afford, but also to buy meals at restaurants. This became my new normal.

During this time, I went from having good grades and being a motivated student to failing assignments and barely attending my classes. When I did attend class, I got away with using my phone the entire time. My peers and teachers had no idea what was going on, and no one questioned me. Some of my family members thought I was “discovering my sexuality,” while others chose to look away. Three weeks before I turned 18, I ran away from home. I was attempting to escape from the trauma I had experienced at home, but was exposed to more risks and trauma in the process.

Not recognizing I was experiencing youth homelessness, I continued to exchange sex and sexual content with older men to meet my needs — a place to stay, false emotional support, transportation, food, and clothing. However, the fact that this was all the support I had impacted my self-image and made me feel stuck. After experiencing several dangerous situations as well as mental health challenges from sleeping with strange men, without realizing it at the time, I wanted out. The winter after I turned 20, I reached out to my mom and asked if I could return home. Even though she had moved to a new city, I was able to reunite with her.

After some time and a lot of paperwork, I was able to access government assistance and my own safe housing. This gave me the support I needed so I would not have to continue exchanging sex to survive. Feeling more supported also led to me wanting to find a greater purpose and be more involved in my community, so I began to volunteer at a shelter. During this time, I attended a community training on human trafficking and learned that there were terms for what I had experienced — sex trafficking and exploitation. Up until that point, it had been easier for me to identify that I had experienced youth homelessness, but I had a harder time identifying that I experienced exploitation.

People of all genders and races are exchanging sex to meet their needs and the public needs to understand that better. This is why I now work on a national level to bring much-needed awareness to the widespread issue of youth and young adults needing to exchange sex to meet their needs. I want to raise awareness of youth under 18 being able to access adult spaces via their phones through the App Store. I am changing systems that impact vulnerable young adults so they are supported and connected.

Hazel Fasthorse

“I was tough. I was a fighter. I didn’t think I needed help because I didn’t see myself as a victim of anything.”

The last time I was sex-trafficked it was January 2010. I was a senior in high school and my trafficker controlled me for nine months of the school year. When I escaped and went to the police, I was blessed to have a detective that understood sex-trafficking. He told me there was one program in my city that would meet my needs,

but they only had three beds and might not be able to take me right away, so he gave me the number to the National Human Trafficking Hotline.

Jose Alfaro

I grew up in an abusive home, in a small, conservative town in Texas where I was taught that gay people went to hell. I believed it. My mother was very, very religious. But I always knew that I was different, that I wasn’t like the boys I went to school with.

I was constantly picked on because I acted a certain way. When I started to understand what gay meant I realized that this was not something I could change. I began talking to other gay people on line.

My father found my cell phone, read some messages that made it clear what was going on, and beat me up. I called the police on him and they basically said go home and work it out so I tried. I wanted to be different. I told my parents I thought there was a possibility I could change in a new environment so they sent me to live with an aunt in San Antonio for the rest of the school year.

All alone in a big city at 15, I started to seek that love and acceptance that I wasn’t getting from my parents. I found it online with a 36-year-old man who I eventually formed a relationship with in real life. He got sex, I got love and acceptance. I thought this was what normal relationships were about. At one point I tried to return home but nothing had changed – except me. At that point, I realized that nothing was wrong with me and this is who I am and I can’t change. My parents said I had to go to counseling, or conversion therapy camp or leave, so I went back to San Antonio and to the man I thought was in love with. I even got help from a lawyer who figured out how I could legally live with this man who was clearly abusing me!

Eventually that relationship soured – as you can imagine. With nowhere to go, I was once again lured by another, older man on line. He claimed he lived in Austin in a huge, beautiful home and made me all kinds of promises about work, about continuing my education, and all that.

Instead he began grooming me. He got me to go to the gym, put me on a healthier diet, made me trust him. Then he said he was a massage therapist and that I should learn how to be one as well because it was a good skill to have and I could always make a living with it.

Since I was too young legally be licensed, instead of training with a school he said I could just watch him and participate a bit to learn. It turned out that the kind of massage he provided was erotic massage. I was a selling point. He was a trafficker. He posted pictures of me shirtless on Craigslist to get more clients and have me participate. It was degrading and terrifying but I was too scared to leave. I felt like I had nowhere to go and my trafficker kept reinforcing that to keep me under his control.

Eventually I fled, more damaged than before because of the trafficking experience and the sense that I couldn’t trust anyone. I did what I had to do to survive. I eventually wound up in Boston at the invitation of another man I had formed a relationship with. While the relationship didn’t work, he told me I could stay at his home rent free on one condition. “Here we go again. Someone else taking advantage of me,” I thought but actually his condition was I go back to school. I got a degree in cosmetology, began a stable working life, and formed the healthy, loving relationship with my partner that I remain in to this day.

I also learned that what happened to me with the man in Austin had a name: Trafficking.

When I figured that out I began to pay attention to the issue more and eventually I heard from someone I knew that the man who had trafficked me was actually arrested for doing something similar to another young boy – and trying to take him to London to prostitute him at the Olympics.

I called the U.S. National Human Trafficking Hotline and told them my story and that I wanted to help. The Trafficking Hotline figured out how to put me in touch with the prosecutors of the case and I wound up testifying against my trafficker at trial. He got 30 years.

Now I am working on a memoir and trying to get my story out there in the community so people can learn how trafficking really works and how LGBTQ+ young people are particularly vulnerable to traffickers who are expert at exploiting the pain and loneliness when they are rejected by their families and their communities.

I am also trying to spread awareness because there were so many points in this story where things could have turned out differently if the systems that are supposed to protect vulnerable people – children in particular – had worked. Child Protective Services had been to my family home a number of times because of the abuse but nothing was done. When my father beat me for being gay, the police told me there was virtually nothing I could and suggested I leave home! They said they could put him in jail for a night but he would be home the next day and things would be worse.

I went from being a really good, really motivated student to basically failing and no one in the school system asked why, or followed up. I was young and I looked even younger and yet when I was homeless, or living with an adult who was not related to me, no one really paid much attention.

That’s the point I really want to drive home about sex trafficking. The most important part to saving victims is realizing how many different ways we could have done something before as anything as horrific as to what happened to me happens to me someone else.

Laura Mullen

“I was convinced and afraid that if I talked, someone would hurt me or worse. I felt so trapped; the police wanted to get me and my trafficker wanted to get me.”

I was on the streets for six years. I was trafficked by multiple people who took advantage of a drug addiction I had developed. They would intentionally make me sick and use drugs to torture me until I did what they wanted. Once, I was forced to perform sex acts with multiple

members of MS-13 while they threatened me with an axe and knife. Even after that, I did not even consider calling the police.

Now, I work with other victims and know that there are law enforcement agencies and officers who are committed to protecting victims and survivors of human trafficking. But back then, the police had never done anything to earn my trust or respect. One told me: “You are not a productive member of society.” Even if they could have helped, cops had always made me feel bad about myself. To me, I was living in my worst nightmare but even then, the cops were the boogieman. They harassed me and followed me around because of things that they thought my family members had done.

While in jail on a drug-related charge, the police hounded me to report my trafficker. They had recognized me from my time on the streets and were trying to prosecute my trafficker. At that moment, I refused to help them. I told them I had no idea what they were talking about. Because at that moment, my trafficker was in jail with me. He had other girls who could harm me. I was convinced and afraid that if I talked, someone would hurt me or worse. I felt so trapped; the police wanted to get me and my trafficker wanted to get me.

Someone from Empowerment Collaborative of Long Island came to see me while I was in jail. They showed me that I didn’t have to go back to the streets, that I had other options and that I had hope. I went through their program when I got out of jail, got an apartment with their help, and began trauma therapy.

I think back to the kind of state I was in then. If someone had said, you have to provide information to the police if you want to get help, I would have never gotten help. I would have continued trying to make it on my own, because the risk of my trafficker hurting me or getting someone to find me was just too high. The police had never protected me before, how could I trust that I would be safe if I reported my situation to them? In the moment you reach out for help, you’re thinking about how you’re going to eat, how you’re going to get shoes to wear. If someone says that everything will be reported to the police, then you’ve got to think about, “Oh man, what if the police try to find me, to talk to me.” That’s just too much to think about when you’re trying to survive.

I now work for Empowerment Collaborative of Long Island as the Survivor Advisory Board Co-Founder and President. I work closely with law enforcement now and we have 34 partner agencies, including HSI, local trafficking unit, and ICE. I am on-call 24/7. If there’s going to be a raid at a worksite or hotel, they call me and I show up with them. I talk to anyone I meet and explain what resources are available. When I was on the streets, I felt so alone and so now I try to make sure no one feels that way.

Many of my clients have the same concerns I did. For those who are undocumented, their fear of the police is even greater. Once, HSI was called down to a hotel where the hotel owners were taking bribes from traffickers. One woman I talked to there refused all help from the police, even food. She told me that she had escaped gang violence in El Salvador and even though her situation here was bad, she would never go back to El Salvador. Another woman I worked with came from Honduras. Her trafficker had promised her a place to live and a good life. Instead, she got endless domestic work and fear. Her trafficker told her that if she ever left his house, he would call the police and she would immediately be deported back to Honduras. She did not step foot out of the property for two and a half years.

Though we may not agree with how victims and survivors often see law enforcement, that is the reality they live in. There is so much fear and confusion. Fear of deportation, fear of retaliation, fear for the safety of ourselves and our families. Very few people understand their rights.

Now, when I work with victims and survivors, my only goal is to get resources to help that person. I tell them, “You have a choice.” You can choose how you want to go about your healing and you can choose the help you want. I am here to support you. You decide if and when you are ready to report your situation.

I’ve helped to train 5,000 community members, I’ve spoken at international symposiums, been featured in newspapers, all because I want to educate our community. I want to empower people to know what kind of help is available to them, so that they can make good decisions. Right now, I am advocating for the immunity bill in New York State that would make sure people will not be charged with prostitution if they are victims/witnesses of a crime. I am also working to make this federal law.

Fainess Lipenga

My employer took away my passport, locked me in the house and disconnected the phone whenever she left home. I was made to sleep on the basement floor. I was so isolated from the outside world that I had no idea there was help available.”

I was brought to the United States to work in the household of a diplomat from my home country, Malawi. I grew up in a poor village without electricity or running water. I suffered abuse since childhood

and was in an abusive relationship as a teenager. There was little hope for a better life. So when this family promised me an opportunity in the United States, and told me I could get an education while I was there and money to help my family back home, I was so very excited. I was going to break out of poverty and help support others in my village. When we got here though, nothing was what I had been promised.

I worked all the time – literally all the time. I cared for children and cleaned and did all manner of household chores. My employer would allow her friends and colleagues to come over and bring their children and I was to care for them as well. She yelled at me constantly and was physically abusive.

On top of this, she married a man who owned a commercial cleaning business and I was put to work for him too. In the middle of the night I was taken to businesses and office buildings to clean carpets using heavy machinery. I worked all night then was returned to my employers home to work some more.

For all this, I was paid less than 40 cents an hour. I was used, like a piece of clothing you wear, like I was not a person. Everything was a nightmare, like a horror movie -except at a horror movie you can see what was happening. But for me, it was happening behind the door, so no one knew. I became physically sick. I thought I was going to die, here, all alone, and my family would never know. I thought she would just throw my body out and no one would ever find out what happened to me.

Some people ask then why I didn’t leave. Well there were very real physical concerns. I had no money, no passport, and I didn’t know anyone. I did not speak English well. But also I know now it is because of what I went through as a child. I did not really fully know that this was not normal, that a person should not be treated this way. I certainly did not know what trafficking was.

Finally though, I knew I had to get out. I think the final push was when I overheard my trafficker bragging about how she had made me sign a contract, in English, which I did not know how to read at the time. She told me when I was signing that she was going to pay me $980 a month. She was proud of this trick.

I had found my passport once when I was cleaning so I knew I could get it. I slept in the basement and could hear the garage door opening and closing so I knew when I was alone and it was safe to leave. I threw a few things I had into a trash bag, grabbed my passport and left. I went to someone’s home who I knew slightly who was also in the diplomatic community. She helped me to find a job with another family, which was good but I was so worn down that I got very sick. I had to be hospitalized and – I don’t know how this happened – my trafficker was actually allowed to come see me in the hospital. Eventually I got well enough to leave but I still struggled emotionally, physically and financially. Physical escape was only one step on the journey to freedom.

It took a lot of work and time to find a safe, supportive place to live and the help I needed. I had a lawyer and she helped very much as well. I learned English, mostly from watching cartoons and television shows! Today I am working, I am advocating for survivors of human trafficking, and I am studying to become a nurse. I am healing and I want to help others to do the same.