This past month has been declared by Obama to be Human Trafficking Awareness Month. This raises the question of how aware we really are. I am a firm believer that the first step to change in any situation, is to become aware that it is a problem, and that there is a logical and plausible solution. While some people take this knowledge and create radical change in the world, others simply shove it to the back of the files in their brain as if it doesn’t affect them. Out of sight, out of mind.
Human trafficking is a $32 billion dollar industry, the fasted growing criminal enterprise in the world, and the only reason it exists is because there is a demand for it. Not only abroad in those third world developing nations that are ravaged by war, famine and corruption, but here in the United States, here in my hometown, here at my job.
What exactly is Human Trafficking? It is slavery, Plain and simple, People doing work that is forced, undesirable, for little or no pay. It’s often glamorized by Hollywood as being an industry that is run by mob bosses who want to get rich quick, and while this is true, it is not the most realistic scenario. While some people are tricked or kidnapped into the industry, others go willingly, thinking they will easily be able to pay the debt, and their family, who knows exactly where their child is going for the sake of immediate economic gain, sells some. This one being sold is referred to as, “the sacrificial lamb.” Often times the victim knows their fate, but knowingly accepts it for a variety of reasons, depending on the region of the world and religion. And traffickers aren’t always mob bosses.
The truth is, anyone could be a trafficker. The boy who sits next to you in Algebra, the mother next door, the mayor, your boyfriend who seems like he’s the “sweetest guy in the world.” Along with anyone being a trafficker, anyone could be trafficked. Unlike slavery of the past, this modern form does not discriminate on race, gender, age, or socio-economic standing. And it doesn’t only include forced prostitution, which by the way, the overwhelming majority of prostituted individuals and strippers did not start out doing that “career” willingly. Trafficking can be anything from prostitution, stripping, bonded labor, the people who mine your diamonds, the people who catch your shrimp, the people who harvest your cocoa, the materials in your laptop, phone, or iPad, child soldiers, sometimes even wives, the list goes on and on. Slavery is everywhere in everyone’s lives.
Being a teacher, I come across various victims of trafficking quite often. Students tell me stories about their past, their family, or things that have happened to them here in the United States, and it shocks me that people don’t care more about this issue, as it does in fact “affect you.” These people who are trafficked are somebody’s daughters, somebody’s sons, somebody’s sisters or brother, somebody’s cousin, or like me, somebody’s students.
I could spit out a bunch of facts and numbers that are appalling and disturbing, I could tell you stories of first hand accounts, and stories that have been passed through organizations of those victims who were lucky enough to be rescued, but instead I will leave you with a poem that was written by a student of mine, right here in Minnesota.
The assignment was to write about the most significant thing that happened in your life
And before he even thought about it, he furiously slammed his pencil to paper, writing so fast that smoke emitted from where the lead pushed on the crisp lines
His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth in concentration and the pencil flew
And in his broken English he wrote:
These hands show the scars of many lives
Lives taken and one given back
For you see these burns like gloves
And I see my life in flashback
A village burned, a family mourned,
A blunt force, and broken dreams
A boy cries, a girl dies,
A woman in the distance screams
I see these rings around my wrist and remember being captured
These men that burned my village,
Also tortured,
Murdered,
Battered
I see a pinch from an AK47 that in 30 minutes I learned to master at the age of eight,
For it was be killed,
Or go faster
And then one day I ran,
That’s where the story changes
For now these hands, these burns, these scars don’t mean regret, but second chances
Of a life long past but not forgotten,
Of redemption earned,
Of freedom gotten
For the first time in my life, I get to go to school,
I eat I laugh I play.
I don’t worry if someone will kill me,
I have a home at the end of the day.
for more information on Human Trafficking, the signs, or how you can help, here is a list of websites that can help you:
http://www.notforsalecampaign.org
http://www.state.gov/j/tip/rls/tiprpt/
http://Love146.org
http://www.polarisproject.org
http://www.ijm.org
