妻友社区

Content warning: This blog post talks about human trafficking and commercial sexual exploitation of a child.

Kate Price (right) and her mother (left) in 1985.

I despise the question 鈥淲hy didn鈥檛 they just leave?鈥� As an anti-human trafficking advocate, I know that question, when asked of victims of human trafficking or gender-based violence, often reveals more about the inquisitor鈥檚 lack of understanding than a victim鈥檚 reasoning. In my experience, anyone who can ask that question has the privilege of never having been entangled within the dynamics of interpersonal violence. I am grateful for research that explains the complicated factors faced by people making the stay-leave decision: fear of being killed; economic dependence; self-blame; charming perpetrators promising it will never happen again; shame; lack of affordable, stable housing; and on and on and on.

But this time I am the person asking the question. I recently learned my late mother knew my father was commercially sexually exploiting me as a child. When I was 5, my mother caught my father selling me for sex via CB radio in our backyard garage. My mother and I did leave, but returned after a week. My sense is my mother thought he had stopped, but he just got more secretive. Instead of holding parties in our garage, he began taking me to a nearby rest area along the major highway that ran past our house to meet his trucker clientele. The trafficking continued for seven more years, until my father left when I was 12 to marry his mistress.

My blood runs cold as I write that last sentence. Turning my blood to ice is my body鈥檚 way of confirming excruciating details of the violence I endured. I am still wrapping my head around the fact my mother knew and we stayed. We stayed. I only learned these details about a month ago while investigating my history in my hometown. My mother swore a family friend to secrecy just before she died.

I rationalize my mother鈥檚 actions as terror that I would be put into foster care if anyone had discovered the truth. While that fear may have been part of her calculus, I wish I could ask my mother how and why she made the decisions she did: Did my father threaten to kill us if we left again or if you told anyone? He was a sadist: he found great pleasure in harming and humiliating us. My survival always felt tied to his presence, mood, and blood alcohol level. I learned from an early age how to please him to stay alive. My first sentence was 鈥淲here鈥檚 Daddy?鈥� Her resolve to keep me breathing feels like the one answer I could square. But I can鈥檛 ask her since she died from cancer 29 years ago.

Why didn鈥檛 you tell me you knew even when your cancer became terminal? This is another question I wish I could ask. My sense is my mother hoped I would leave our small Appalachian hometown and never look back after I graduated from college six months after she died. Her dying wish was for me to go to graduate school in Boston. She did not want my life to look like hers. She even waited to tell me her final bone marrow transplant did not work until after I had left for my senior year. Had she told me sooner, she would have had to risk me staying.

I believe banishment was her answer because as a girl, she dreamed of escaping her violent family by going to business school in Hawaii. But her abusive father told her she could learn everything at her textile factory job that she could learn in college. So, my mother fled her family home by marrying immediately after high school. My father turned out to be even more dangerous.

What my mother could not have understood, though, was that no 鈥渂etter place鈥� exists. Sure, the 300 miles between my hometown and Boston, as well as New England鈥檚 cultural norms supporting women鈥檚 educational and financial independence, allowed me to build the life she always dreamed for me. But the education she demanded I earn taught me interpersonal violence and systemic barriers to safety are ubiquitous.

While I will never know my mother鈥檚 answers to these questions, I do know her keeping me alive gave me a future, if not a childhood. For that reason, I am determined to use my skills as a research scientist to disrupt the cycles of child abuse, gender-based violence, and exploitation that know no borders. I now do human trafficking trainings and advocacy work in my hometown because the systems that enabled my trafficking as a child still exist. As a mother myself now, I am grateful I can be the woman I needed as a girl.

Kate Price, Ph.D., is a visiting scholar at the 妻友社区, where she is completing a writing project on the commercial sexual exploitation of children in Appalachia.

New York Times columnist and anti-trafficking advocate Nicholas Kristof recently opened January鈥檚 Human Trafficking Awareness month with a entitled, 鈥淲hat does 2014 hold for the fight against modern-day slavery?鈥� My answer is the need to dispel myths about sexual violence against women and children within the anti-trafficking movement so that we can all work effectively and sustainably toward ending exploitation. I hold little hope for truly ending human trafficking unless we understand the systemic nature of violence against women and children.

I strongly believe human trafficking and sexual slavery are a manifestation and continuation of interpersonal and systemic violence. For instance, the top two risk factors for sexual exploitation are a history of child sexual abuse and poverty. Yet, International Justice Mission founder and President argued that an environment of impunity, not violence, is to blame:

[S]lavery is first and foremost a violent crime鈥�and if you were to look at any other crime that would take place in our community that鈥檚 violent 鈥� let鈥檚 say rape 鈥� we would of course want to change those attitudes. We would of course want to make sure that the streets were well lit. We would want to make sure that women knew how to walk safely and avoid dangerous areas. But you would start, absolutely, that people who committed sexual assaults actually went to jail for it. You are more likely to get struck by lightning than go to jail for committing that violent crime.

Utilizing such 鈥渞ape myths鈥� like the need for well-lit streets and women鈥檚 ability to walk safely perfectly illustrates Haugen鈥檚 limited understanding of sexual violence: .

鈥淟aw enforcement is absolutely a critical component,鈥� said Rachel Lloyd, trafficking survivor and founder of , 鈥渂ut it isn鈥檛 the only component鈥�and it won鈥檛 be the thing that long-term changes the issue.鈥�

We will not end human trafficking and slavery unless we understand the very nature of violence and how it permeates our culture. Among industrialized nations, the U.S. has the worst record of and . We have the second-highest. Estimates across various surveys suggest , by either a family member or someone they know and trust. We have created the 鈥減erfect storm鈥� for trafficking.

We also must acknowledge how violence is perpetuated. We often overlook that most of the few exploiters who have been studied report a history of child sexual abuse. also report histories of sexual abuse and describe themselves as 鈥渟ex addicts.鈥� Abused children can repeat the violation throughout their lives, often within gendered norms, according to trauma expert . Abused boys can re-victimize, thus fulfilling the masculine imperative of being dominant and in control, while abused girls can go on to form relational attachments with victimizing boys or men.

If we are to stop human trafficking we must prioritize healing the wounds of abused boys through comprehensive, trauma-informed care over jailing angry, isolated men who become traffickers. We must focus on ensuring abused girls have economic opportunity based on intellect rather than equating their worth with their bodies. I am not arguing we sympathize with offenders because they have been abused. However, I am saying that jailing exploiters and solicitors will not stop trafficking: cycles of child sexual abuse and poverty are the fuel that keeps the engine running. We need to empty the gas line.

, M.A., project associate at the (JBMTI) at the 妻友社区 (WCW), is also a social scientist in the cultural construction of childhood. As a survivor of the commercial sexual exploitation of children (CSEC), Price authored a chapter in the , Global Perspectives on Prostitution and Sex Trafficking: Europe, Latin America, North America, and Global (Lexington Books) and a JBMTI working paper, Longing to Belong: Relational Risks and Resilience of Commercially Sexually Exploited Children, examining CSEC through a Relational-Cultural Theory lens.

The United Nations General Assembly proclaimed June 4^th as ()in 1982 to recognize the 鈥減hysical, mental, and emotional abuse鈥� many of the world鈥檚 children endure. Unfortunately, we even need to have a day to acknowledge such horrific tragedies. According to the every day in America:

- Every 30 seconds during the school year a public school student is corporally punished;
- Every 47 seconds a child is confirmed as abused or neglected;
- Every seven hours a child is killed by abuse or neglect.

Yet, even reading these statistics, we may have become desensitized or rationalize that these realities only exist for particular communities. Stereotypes place such brutality specifically in 鈥渦rban neighborhoods鈥� (often read: Latino and/or Black communities) or low-income areas. However, additional confirm:

- Every 58 seconds during the school year a Latino public school student is corporally punished, every 57 seconds for Black students, and 48 seconds for White students;
- Every day, 402 Latino, 360 Black, and 797 White children are confirmed as abused or neglected;
- Every day, one Latino, one Black, and one White child is killed by abuse or neglect.

The long-term social and health effects of childhood abuse and neglect are poignantly illustrated by the . The study, sponsored by the Centers for Disease Control and a California HMO, found that f the 17,000+ middle-income subjects had endured at least one of the 鈥渁dverse鈥� categories (i.e. abuse, neglect, divorce, household substance abuse or mental illness). Furthermore, people had experienced four or moretypes, which led to for health conditions such as depression, substance abuse, heart and liver disease.

Luckily, thanks in large part to such empirical evidence as the ACE Study, as a culture we are beginning to understand and to accept that childhood trauma deeply affects our daily lives. We are also increasingly acknowledging how trauma deeply affects adults which, with proper treatment and support, can act as violence prevention in our families and communities.

For instance, a soldier returning home with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and his family can now receive support, whereas this wasn鈥檛 always the case. Actor Patrick Stewart recently eloquently spoke out at about surviving domestic violence as a child of a WWII veteran father who suffered from what was then referred to as 鈥渟hellshock.鈥� Blogger had acknowledged Stewart during a convention panel for his against domestic violence, while also identifying herself as a domestic violence survivor. Stewart鈥檚 emotional reply implored that violence is 鈥渘ever鈥� the answer, and that 鈥渕en can stop domestic violence.鈥�

As adults, we are charged with protecting children. We know this is the 鈥渞ight鈥� thing to do, and yet, we can often get caught up in protecting only 鈥渙ur鈥� children: members of our families, our communities, our schools, and our places of worship. But for children who were born to parents who cannot keep them safe--children who have (to paraphrase ) lost the biological lottery--we must also take responsibility for keeping them safe. All too often, violence remains a 鈥減rivate family matter.鈥�

On this International Day of Innocent Children Victims of Aggression, I am making the plea that the United States take a big step forward in keeping all children safe by endorsing the , which only the United States, Somalia, and South Sudan have not ratified. Yes, such documents are often viewed as 鈥渙nly a piece of paper.鈥� However, I believe there is power in taking a public stand as a country, especially when one signature proclaims that the United States supports All children deserve such a vow.

, M.A., project associate at the (JBMTI) at the 妻友社区 (WCW), is also a social scientist in the cultural construction of childhood. As a survivor of childhood sexual exploitation, Price authored a chapter in the textbook, Global Perspectives on Prostitution and Sex Trafficking: Europe, Latin America, North America, and Global (Lexington Books), examining child prostitution through a Relational-Cultural Theory lens. An audio recording of her March 2012 WCW seminar, 鈥淟onging to Belong: Relational Risks and Resilience in U.S. Prostituted Children,鈥� is available online, and a copy of her recent working paper by the same title is available through WCW Publications.