Sex Trafficking and Sex Work

I used to live in a shelter in Brooklyn. While there, I met a woman who, at the time, was in her 40s. This woman had a rough life that included an abusive mother. She told us about how when she hit puberty, her own mother had her turning tricks, and she would use the money to buy drugs. Not surprisingly, this woman also became a drug addict, and she didn’t have a good relationship with her mom.

This woman wasn’t the only one in the shelter to turn tricks. The shelter had a habit of serving under-cooked chicken, and $200 a month in food stamps only lasted two weeks. Those women who were in between jobs and were not getting social security often had to resort to creative, and not always legal, means to get food that was safe to eat. I went to a nearby vegan market and dug my meals from their trash, with permission from the employees and managers of the market. Some women panhandled for the money, some stole their food, and some turned tricks for a meal. All of us felt humiliated and degraded over the things we resorted to in order to get the very basic things others took for granted.

According to a CNN report, the illegal sex trade in Atlanta brings in $290 million each year, with some traffickers making more than $32,000 a week. Pimps in the area often “brand” their girls with tattoos unique to each pimp. While Georgia law does give authorities the ability to offer leniency if a girl chooses to get help and go to a safe home, their hands are tied if a girl chooses not to take the help. Girls are often taken as young as 14, and they are groomed and trained to think that there isn’t a better life for them. While some are able to escape, countless girls are not. And those that do escape often find that their past will haunt them for years as they try to move on into a better life. The report can be found here:

http://www.cnn.com/2015/07/20/us/sex-trafficking/index.html

With this in mind, some former sex workers and survivors of sex trafficking are advocating for changes in laws regarding how sex work is regulated. Activist Juno Mac has studied four legal models surrounding sex work that are used around the world, and in a TED Talk, she shares which one she thinks is best for keeping sex workers safe and allowing for more self determination. Here is her talk:

Pati Thomas

I was 13 and going to the youth center on Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii.  They were offering some art lessons.  The teacher helped me and mostly did a beautiful painting for me to give my mother, I think it was for mother’s day. So I offered to help clean up after the class was over and the other kids had gone home.  He was a truly gift artist and as I started cleaning the brushing in the sink I told him how beautiful the painting was and that I didn’t know how to thank him.

He replied that he thought I knew how to thank him.  I started to feel uncomfortable, and I didn’t even know why.  I laughed because even then, at that tender young age, that’s what I did when I was nervous.  He came up close behind me to put some more brushes in the sink.  I said “cool, thanks”.  He said something like “oh come on now. That’s not how I want you to thank me.”  And he stepped closer.  I kept cleaning brushes and he pressed himself up behind me so that I could feel his very obvious erection pressing into my backside.  He put his hands on my hips and pulled me close to him as he said “Now do you know how I’d like you to thank me?” and his hands tried to pull my skirt upwards.

My parents had always taught me to defend myself.  And while I was scared to death of what this guy could possibly do to me, I knew that wasn’t going to let it happen without a fight.  I picked the biggest brush in the sink, made sure it was really soaked and flung it back into his face as I said “Yeah I get it, No thanks!”  I may have actually hit him with that brush.  (The goal was to give him a face full of watery paint and maybe get him in the eyes)  In any case it surprised him into letting me go and I ran, out of that kitchen and out of the youth center.  I made it home, tore up that painting and threw it in the trash.  I never told my parents because I was ashamed.  Somehow, I felt it was my fault.  Somehow, I felt that I had provoked him.  Although I got away from him, I felt dirty and ashamed, until far into adulthood.

Children & Teens

From 2009-2013, child protective services agencies found evidence to support an estimated 63,000 children a year were victims of child sexual abuse. That’s one child every 8 minutes. 34% of these children are not even 12 years old, while 66% are between 12 and 17. 82% of these victims are female, with females between the ages of 16-19 being  4x more likely to be victims of attempted or completed rape or sexual assault. These children are 4x more likely to abuse drugs, 4x more likely to have symptoms of PTSD as adults, and 3x more likely to experience major depressive episodes as adults.

In 93% of these cases, the perpetrator was known to the victim. 59% are aquaintainces and 34% are family members. Only 7% are strangers. 80% of perpetrators were a parent, 6% were other relatives, 5% were “other”-from siblings to strangers, and 4% were the unmarried partners of a parent. Out ot the sexual abuse cases reported to CPS in 2013, 47,000 men and 5,000 women were the alleged perpetrators. In 88% of child sexual abuse cases substantiated by CPS, the perpetrators were male. In 9% of cases, the perptrators were female, and in 3%, the gender of the perpetrator was not identified.

All of this information can be found at https://www.rainn.org/statistics/children-and-teens.

Heidi F.

This is the first of several stories from survivors that I’m hoping to be able to share.

Please refer to me as Heidi or Heidi F but not my full name.

I was molested as a very young child, but I won’t go into that.

When I was eleven I went with my friend to some guys house that were supposed to drink with us. They were in their 20s. In the end my 12-year-old friend gave a few guys blow jobs and I was coerced into a handjob and a blow job. They they told me how great I was at it.

When I was 13, I met a man in his mid 20s, we fell in love I guess you could say, though it was wrong.

Shortly (maybe a month) after that my friend Tonya had me go with her to meet some guy who we were going to smoke a blunt with. When the guy pulled up I saw that he was a 30-year-old very large man. He went by D. He took us to a wooded area on a local beach and fed us an insane amount of alcohol. He asked if I was a virgin (I was) and processed to tell me how he wanted it. I refused, I was with the before mentioned man and loved him. D took my top off and stood behind me holding my breasts while Tonya took pictures of us with his Polaroid (we were both crying). He didn’t rape me, but he was angry that I refused him, wouldn’t return my top, and dropped us off (me topless) in the heart of the south side (very bad part of town). Tanya who was nearly hallucinating from the amount of jack we drank, called the cops at a payphone and told them I had been raped. I told them I wasn’t but told the actual story and D was prosecuted for his crime.  I think he got a couple years, but I can’t remember. They found a photo album of similar pictures with other girls in his trunk. I do not know if my picture was in it, or what happened to said picture or the other girls. I still wonder about that sometimes.

The incident with D allowed my grown man boyfriend-guy to convince me of how irresponsible and incapable of caring for myself I was. As time went on I was not allowed to have friends, wear makeup/perfume/scented deodorant/dresses/skirts/shorts (in the Florida heat), etc. I was always accused of being a whore though he was my only. He gained complete control over me. I suppose I became a sex-slave or a sex toy, or whatever. He would have me suck his dick 6 and 7 times a day. I had braces and my mouth occasionally bled from the blow-jobs. When I did he would apologize and not make me give another that day, but he would have me finish that blowjob. I did whatever I was told. I didn’t know any better and didn’t want him upset. I didn’t know that this was weird until high school when I had a discussion about blow jobs with a friend. I thought everyone gave 30+ a week. I never did prom or had sleepovers because he didn’t allow it. He was my strict father and life partner, it was pretty f*cked up.

Right before I turned 18, my very close friend came into town. We had similar rough upbringings. He convinced me that my old man was a pedo and our relationship was wrong. That I should leave him and get with my him, my friend. He was as the child I knew, a good kid, and I cared deeply for him. Somehow I found the strength to leave him and get with my friend. Within 2 weeks I was pregnant with my first child (on my 18th birthday). As it turned out my new life partner was insanely fucked up. He was an alcoholic and drug addict and mentally ill. He beat me and regularly raped me. He raped me 4 weeks after I gave birth to our son. I became pregnant and decided to have an abortion. 5 days after the abortion he raped me again in doggy style. A sudden gush of blood made him pull back. I was bleeding profusely and was in an inch high puddle of blood. He seemed to feel really bad and apologized and helped me into the tub, washed me, and flipped the mattress. We left the bed there when we moved. Over the next several years he viciously beat me and raped me and fathered two more kids. Sometimes he would smoke crack and make me fuck him with objects in our house. A few times he made me reenact the times I was molested as a child (I had told him the stories when we were kids). He also made me reinact the time his uncle molested him. He once made me suck a crack dealers dick so he could buy crack (mind you, I didn’t do anything like that, I didn’t even drink). They high-fived over how good I was at it while I cried. I know I’m good at it though, been doing it long enough… He forced me into stripping to pay for his habits. Funnily enough, it was the men there who were forever complimenting me and being kind to me that grew my confidence and made me realize that I could stop my life as it was. One day after work I came home to him crying. He said he had a dream that he molested our oldest daughter (not yet 3). It dawned on me what could happen. I Grabbed the kids and ran while he was in the bathroom.

A while later a man I had consensual sex with previously, that worked at the club, forced me into the bathroom and sodamized me. I didn’t tell anyone.

Shortly after that I met my now husband in the same club, and we’ve been together nearly 13 years. I am ok, my kids are ok (he raised them as his own) and we are treated with love and respect. I am happy and healthy so this does have a happy ending. ❤️