My mind ran in a thousand directions as the survivor shared with me her story and experiences. Her voice trembled, and the weight of her words settled heavily in my heart. Crying on the phone, she said, “My preteen daughter and I have run through six states to escape from my trafficker in the last seven days. We’ve run out of money. We are scared, tired, and really have no one to help or anyone we trust.”
As my mind was still going in a thousand directions, every word she said cut deeper as she continued, revealing the desperate measures she had taken to protect herself and her child. “I have called the trafficking hotlines in each one of those states and spoke to a hotline answering service, but no one from the trafficking service organizations called me back. And not one of those ‘answering services’ that answered was concerned about me or especially the safety of my daughter.”
Her despair was palpable. The frustration and isolation she felt were echoed in her voice—a mother doing everything she could to protect her daughter, only to be met with indifference. The system that was supposed to be her lifeline had failed her.
But then, something shifted. Amid her tears, there was a glimmer of hope. “I feel safe now! I feel heard now! I feel like someone cares! I don’t feel alone anymore. I’m 40 years old and have been trafficked since I was a child. I am ready for help!”
That final declaration—that she was ready for help—was powerful. It signaled a turning point, not just for her, but for all of us who dedicate our lives to this cause. Hearing her say those words reminded me why we do what we do, why we fight so hard against the darkness of human trafficking.
In that moment, every direction my mind had run in began to converge into one singular focus: we have to be the ones who answer the call. We have to be the ones who ensure no survivor ever feels abandoned or unheard again.
This story isn’t just about one woman’s harrowing journey—it’s a call to action for all of us. We must do better. We must be better. For her, for her daughter, and for every survivor who is still waiting for someone to listen.