Dear Modern Day Abolitionist

Dear Modern Day Abolitionist

It’s not about you. It’s not about you. Please know though that I say this with so much love and kindness. I am writing you to tell you that it’s not about you because if you joined this fight, if you became an abolitionist to make a difference, to end human trafficking to rescue people, to stop slavery- You Will Burn Out.

It makes sense for the above reasons to be why you became an abolitionist- you felt compelled to do something. But eventually that sheer determination will only fuel you for a couple of years and then you will become fatigued. Joining a cause to change the world is great but what will sustain you and fuel you is simply just to love people and respect their dignity.

I cannot tell the detriment that is made in counter trafficking when those in need of assistance or support are not given the dignity they are entitled. Understanding terminology, statistics, stories and reports are all well and good but if we are not careful they can stigmatize and dehumanize a particular group of people experiencing a social injustice. And then we forget that, that particular people group is made up of unique individuals. These individuals have their own independent experiences and stories.

If dignity for others is a core value that you adhere to in any kind of humanitarian service work, than you will already be combating the savior complex that can be so prevalent in service work.

I tell you all of this because I made these mistakes early on but never dreamed I was hurting more than I was helping. After all, everyone in the anti-trafficking movement was camped around the mission to stop it. And it is a good reason to fight but it cannot be the main reason we rally. We have to rally because we love people. Because we believe in their value and dignity because we see them as as EQUALS, as PEERS because we see them as FRIENDS. The anti trafficking world has often bonded over outrage and anger as a means to fuel people to fight to abolish and yet the numbers increase in exploitation as well as staff and volunteer burnout.

 I believe to fight against human trafficking the approach cannot be re-active but rather purposefully and sustainably approached.  I think there is a need for the conversation to change in how we discuss Human Trafficking or raise awareness in the anti- trafficking movement. While albeit well intentioned, the image or perception of what is happening and how to help has incidentally created an “us versus them” mentality, in which the practitioners, volunteers, NGOs, etc are on one side of the fight against slavery and the survivors are on the other. When in fact we are all on one side and are ending modern day slavery together. Avoid using statements that say, “we provide freedom or we rescue.” I caution this because I can tell you that I have seen that kind of language bring more harm than good across the globe.

 Over the years, I have sat across the table from women and men working in prostitution, women and men in prison, kids growing up in violent communities and later going on to steal to survive, young people trying to dodge gang life and young people succumbing to the pressure of gang life.

I have listened to the stories of formerly incarcerated men and women trying to rebuild their lives after serving their time but coming against a society that won’t let them rebuild.

I have sat across the table from people who never thought they would leave home and country and become a refugee dependent on another nation’s generosity. And ALL of these stories and relationships have changed my life.

Here’s the thing, there was a time that I didn’t know to think about human trafficking, exploitation in prostitution and pornography, mass incarceration, gang violence and recruitment, child marriage, etc as more than heartbreaking issues of our day.

That is, until I was introduced to people affected by it daily. As I came to know these people-they became my friends. I then not only cared but became passionate to fight against the things that placed my friends in these situations. It was not about a cause, my friends weren’t a social justice “issue” they were living, breathing human beings who at some point had their stories hijacked.

And at the end of the day, every single one of these people just needed someone to listen. They needed to be seen and known. The thing is, after every table moment, I walked away humbled, challenged and changed. It forced me to look at governments, politics, systems and institutions and navigate ways for change, real change.

 And it’s not easy but change can and does happen and one of those ways is to first sit across the table from the people whom you might normally have never met.

I made a promise to myself years ago that I would celebrate every win in a fun and memorable way.⁣⁣

When I got word that a refugee family we were assisting in relocating had finally made it safely out of their country and arrived to their destination without problem- I jumped on my bed! ⁣⁣

⁣⁣When the text arrived that a young woman who had been trafficked had made an escape and was finally safe- I ate cake at midnight!⁣⁣

⁣⁣When a survivor messaged me to let me know she is still safe and pursuing her dream of a degree in fine arts-I took the rest of the day off and walked at my favorite park!⁣⁣

⁣⁣There are plenty of times I don’t receive good news and my heart breaks but I have learned that I cannot camp in disappointment or setbacks in fighting modern day slavery. I take a moment to let the tough news sink in and I grieve.⁣⁣ Our whole team has also learned to celebrate failure, not because we failed but because we tried.⁣⁣

⁣⁣If you are helping to provide support to someone requiring assistance, learn their name and a fun fact or dream they have, not the horrible things that have happened to them. Figure out how to humanize them instead of turning them into a cause or part of a social problem you must solve. If you memorialize the horror of what they have been through in order to fuel you to do what you do, you really actually just dishonor what they have survived. And then if you share only their pain and suffering with the world as a way to spur people to donate or fight-you keep the freedom they have at arm’s length.

My fellow abolitionist, after almost ten years in anti-trafficking work, I am fully convinced that if we let a love for people, a value for their dignity and a view of their equality be what fuels our passion to fight modern day slavery, we just might end it.

The Circle Kept Growing

The Circle Kept Growing

“Cuba has seen a spike in outward migration since last year’s announcement that it and the United States would restore diplomatic relations. Many Cuban migrants say they have chosen to leave now out of fear that detente could bring an end to the U.S. migration policies that benefit them, although U.S. officials say no change is in the works.”           (ABC News)

In mid November, as Cuban economic refugees were making their way through Central America in hopes of reaching the USA, Nicaragua closed it’s border refusing to allow any Cuban entry. This response forced the Cubans back into Costa Rica, thus invoking a political battle. Costa Rica had no choice but to find temporary solutions for the close to 3,000 Cubans now in their nation. It was and has been a mess with tensions high between Costa Rica and it’s neighbor, Nicaragua. As Nicaragua sided with it’s ally, Cuba and denied entrance to the Cuban refugees, these refugees, went from being economic refugees to political refugees overnight.

So this past Friday a small team of us from San Jose drove the six hours to a little town close to the border of Costa Rica and Nicaragua where the majority of Cuban refugees were staying. It would seem now that at least six or more shelters/camps have been set up for the Cuban people until Costa Rica can reach some solutions. So far sending them back to Cuba is not an option much to the relief of the Cubans. Our hearts were hurting for the Cubans and we wanted to serve and help in any way possible. We were told we would help the national emergency response teams on the ground. In the hopes that we could bless a few kids with Christmas approaching, we bought some toys to give away in the camp we would be helping.

When we arrived to this tiny border town, we were caught off guard by the chaos ensuing and the amount of people everywhere. The schedule that had been set, changed and we wandered around being unable to help. Workers were bogged down with work and police were everywhere.

The needs were overwhelming and there seemed to be an atmosphere of shock and hopelessness that met us. Our team walked around the little town to get a sense of what was happening. We went back to the place we were staying to wait for instructions, when none came, we gathered together to pray and seek God’s direction. That night we went out into the town to pray and meet people who were in the streets.  Some of our teammates were able to talk with some of the Cuban refugees and they appeared hopeful. To them, the camps and the lack of resolutions to proceed on their journey to the USA were still much better than the conditions they left behind in Cuba.

The next day came and while we were encouraged to have shared in conversation with a few people, we still wondered why we had not been able to accomplish as much as we had initially anticipated. It was an hour before our team was due to depart and return to San Jose when the phone rang. Our contact to the national emergency response unit had called to say that we were granted permission to visit not just one but all of the shelters! Not only could we visit but we could bring the toys we had previously purchased and we could pray with whomever wanted prayer!

Each camp we visited, the kids would spot the toys instantly and before we could say anything they would come running towards us with huge grins and shouts. It gave us so much joy as we watched delight spring to their faces and it seemed to spark joy even in the adults all around the camps watching the children receive the gifts.

At each camp, we offered prayer for anyone who wanted to pray with us. At one particular camp, a few people came to us wanting prayer, so we joined hands and made a circle. As we started to pray, more people began to join the circle and the circle kept growing. By the end of the prayers, I opened my eyes and realized the circle had grown much larger and we were now praying almost in the center of the camp. Our little circle of faith and hope had grown and when we hugged goodbye, the atmosphere felt lighter. As we drove away, I reflected on the wonder it is to step into the center of a seemingly hopeless situation and make hope contagious.

I am all too aware of how contagious fear is in our world right now. Social media and world news have seen fit to remind us of this daily. However, there is this amazing anecdote to fear and it’s the powerful combination of faith, hope and love.  This combination is fear’s undoing and when this anecdote is put in motion, fear becomes powerless.

That day in the camp so many of us representing different nationalities, joined hands and made a very strong statement to hell. We all chose to embrace faith, hope and love and cling to the fact that God is good always.

I may not fully understand why so much tragedy seems to be in our world right now but I do know this one thing-God created his kids to contain the capacity to bring faith, hope and love into ANY situation.

 

 

Rice, Beans and Miracles Unseen

Rice, Beans and Miracles Unseen

I believe that miracles happen everyday but so often we don’t see them. A set back or an obstacle can occur and we become focused on a solution or the lack of one.
What if the only solution you had to a problem was a miracle?

Many years ago, I had the privilege of helping a friend who had started a feeding program and day center in a small town of Nicaragua. Our location at the time was a small place with limited space and one tiny bathroom. The roof was completely made of metal and the average temperature was 90 degrees. One particular week, the power and water had been turned off in the whole city and it was on day three of no power and water that we had the weekly scheduled feeding program.

We only had twenty kids signed up to eat that day. It had been a long, exhausting week and our small team of four had been spread pretty thin. Two hours before the children were to arrive, I sent the team off to grab lunch and run some errands, while I stayed behind with the cook to help feed the kids.

The time came and children began to arrive and with all twenty accounted for, I began to hand out plates of rice and beans. I was so relieved that due to the lack of resources we had exactly enough to feed everyone. As the kids were lining up with their plates, there was a knock on the door. I opened the door to find ten more kids piling into the tiny center. Not even five minutes later another knock and even more hungry faces entered. Before I knew it, more knocks came and we had four times our  original number of children to feed. It was chaos. I came into the kitchen to let the cook know about the new arrivals and was met with absolute panic as she informed me that we did not have near enough to feed them all.

I looked at all the kids staring up at me expectantly. I couldn’t call anyone because phone lines were down. I didn’t have any cash on me to buy anything. I was out of options. I turned back to the cook and asked to see the pot of beans and rice. There it stood with the evidence of what she had said, we barely had enough.

I remembered the stories I had heard of people praying over food and God miraculously providing. So I prayed, “Okay God, we have to feed these kids. I pray that you provide food for every child here and increase our supply.” I waited, nothing happened. I am not sure what I was expecting, maybe the rice and beans to miraculously rise right before my eyes and come spilling out of the big, black pot. I had prayed in my heart language (English) instead of Spanish, so the cook looked at me with such confusion. To this woman, I appeared crazy kneeling down, talking to a pot of food on the ground. Crazy or not, I believed that God would help us feed every person there. I was desperate for Him to provide.  I turned to the cook and said, “Give an equal portion to every child and we will believe that all will eat today.”

We scooped out plate, after plate, after plate. Every single child that came that day ate not once, but twice. It was the craziest thing. The rice and beans were still the amount we started with and never changed in quantity even after every child ate twice! I couldn’t believe it and neither could the cook. We sent home leftovers for all of the children and we still had some in the pot.

That night I marveled at the miracle I had seen God bring to our humble, black pot of rice and beans. I knew the provision didn’t just come because of a need but because  of the love of God. He knew that it might be the only meal some children would receive that day. It always broke my heart on the weeks we had no leftovers to send home to those particular families. However, that day was different, that day we had more than enough for leftovers.

I pictured God’s absolute delight in loving on those kids and watching my shocked face every time I peered into the pot to see the quantity never seem to decrease.

While I have never seen beans and rice multiply quite like that again, I have never doubted that it could happen. When bills come rolling in, supplies are low, the van has a mechanical issue, or the washing machine has broken down, I remember that miracles happen.

Broken Has a Face

10983309_934705586570347_318292488464530312_o

Broken- reduced to fragments; fragmented.ruptured; torn; fractured.infringed or violated

Broken is an interesting word. What do you think of when you read or hear that word? When I was a little girl when I thought of the word broken, I thought of toys. When my toys or accessories were broken, I took them to my dad and usually he was able to fix or mend them. When I was a teenager, broken was a bone in my body or a part in my car. Once again, I would call my dad and he would come to my rescue. When I entered into the medical field and worked for General/Vascular Surgeons, broken was usually a Gallbladder, Appendix or Vein. Finally when I left and moved to Central America, the word broken took on a whole new meaning. Broken no longer was a toy or accessory; a bone or a car; a gallbladder or appendix. Broken had a face. Broken was men and women, boys and girls all hungry and hurting for more than just food. One day, I learned of broken little girls and forgotten older women living and working in prostitution. They were suffering with broken brains and broken hearts. This time, the one I ran to, was God and He reminded me that His son Jesus died on the cross so that whatever was broken could be fixed.

It wasn’t the fact that modern day slavery still existed. It wasn’t the harsh reality that over 20 million people on the planet were slaves that compelled me to be an abolitionist. It was the continual trips to the red light districts of Costa Rica that compelled my heart to abolish slavery. As I learned stories from those working in prostitution and became their friend, love grew in my heart. As their friend, I wanted answers. I wanted solutions. I wanted human trafficking to stop. I wanted it all to end. I purposed in my heart to fight for them. I wanted to look evil in the face and show that love could win.

For so long I avoided the title of abolitionist. It had become something trendy. While I was grateful for all of the awareness that had come with the trend, my heart sometimes hurt that the focus would be on the cause and not the people. In Costa Rica, fighting modern day slavery was not trendy. It was hard for me every time I came home to the US to understand the language of the fight against slavery. Over time, I worked hard to network with other organizations and see what was happening across the globe. I finally found and came to accept that I was among so many others that God was rallying to become abolitionists. Hearts around the world were being united to see God’s cry for justice be made known.

I am proud to be a modern day abolitionist and part of the great justice movement that God has ignited. While my focus has been predominantly in seeing justice take place in sex trafficking, I long to see justice for all areas of social injustice.

I have seen the face of evil rage against children wanting to rob them of a childhood.     I have watched, lonely men pay someone to “love” them for a night. From borders to brothels, to street corners and park benches, I have heard stories of the deep brokenness that comes from those affected by the commercial sex industry.

The journey of coming to understand this type of brokenness has changed my life forever. Now and always, broken has a face to me. Broken has a name and a dream. Broken cries on my shoulder. Broken smiles at me as I hand out coffee. Broken has become my family.

I have loved living among the broken and hungry. I have been humbled and privileged to partner with Jesus these last 6 years to fill hungry bellies, mend wounded knees and love on hurting hearts.

To any of you that think you could not change a hurting, ugly world, I have good news, you can. Decide to relentlessly love the broken person that is placed in your path, because I promise that when you do, you’ll see the face of Jesus and you will change the world for that one. Love never fails.