In the past couple of weeks, a horrific tragedy has unfolded in Southwestern Ontario. On May 6, Tim Bosma, a 32 year old husband and father of a toddler, went missing. He had posted an ad online to sell his truck, and never returned after going for a test drive with two potential buyers. A massive search ensued, involving the police, the media, and hundreds if not thousands of volunteers. Posters were pinned onto family homes and business windows.
Communities were shaken, and still are.
On May 14, police confirmed that they had found Bosma’s burned remains on a farm near Waterloo. One suspect is in custody, and the police are searching for others. Some believe that this may have been a thrill kill. This horrific incident has consumed my mind for the past two weeks, and my heart aches despite not knowing the family personally.
Shortly after Bosma went missing, we got an email from a friend who worked for years with street youth. He pointed out that homeless people and at-risk teens go missing all the time – yet it doesn’t even make the papers. But the moment a rich white male goes missing, everyone jumps on board.
I heard similar things from others, including anti-trafficking advocates, who wished that the same attention being drawn to this case would be applied to those who are missing from poor and marginalized communities. Native girls and women go missing all the time, often ending up in trafficking rings or in ditches, yet no one seems to care. In British Columbia, a man named Robert Pickton murdered at least 26 women – many of them prostituted women from Vancouver’s East Side – and even though police received tips about something going on at Pickton’s pig farm in connection to the missing women, a full investigation was not a priority.
Missing women from Vancouver's Downtown East end
My husband Jay had a beautiful response in light of the Bosma case, which reflects our heart in this.
Regardless of the fact that one person’s pain is prioritized over another’s, let us not become embittered. Let us not permit it to spoil our loving spirit.
Let us mourn for this man and his family, and tell his story. And let us also mourn for those who society considers to be the “least of these,” those who have been forgotten and marginalized.
We must let this be an opportunity to expose our own racisms and prejudices, and a chance to learn or re-learn what true, unbiased compassion looks like.
Pain is real, whether one is rich or poor, white or black, young or old, celebrated or marginalized. Refusing to take part in one person’s pain will not alleviate that of another.
This crime has wounded many of us because it is closer to home than ever before. Perhaps this is an indication that many of us are living in a bubble of safety and complacency, where we can avoid the painful realities of those who have not had the same opportunities.
The memorial service for Tim Bosma is taking place on Wednesday, May 22. This is a time for us to mourn with those who mourn, and my hope is that this would be a starting point for extending this love to those in our communities that have been forgotten.
We can do both. We can enter into mourning with the Bosma family, and we can enter into the pain of those on the margins. Our hearts have a capacity to love greatly.
My sincere condolences go to Tim’s family during this difficult week, as well as to those whose loved ones have been forgotten.
Last weekend I was sitting out on the front porch at my inlaws’ place, sipping iced tea and enjoying the beautiful spring weather. A neighbour passed by on his bicycle and we asked him to join us. He is from Bangladesh. We started talking about the recent factory collapse that has caused the deaths of over 1,000 garment workers in his country. His countenance fell. ”I’ve decided to not purchase any clothing made in Bangladesh until labour laws change,” he said. Pain was etched into his face.
On Wednesday April 24, a garment factory in Bangladesh collapsed with about 3,500 workers inside. Large cracks had been discovered in the walls the day before, but despite this, workers had been ordered back to work on Wednesday. They were told that their month’s pay would be withheld if they did not enter the building. A survivor recounts:
“The owner of Rana Plaza along with gang members holding sticks were standing in front of the main entrance gate threatening that they would beat us with sticks and break our bones if we didn’t work that morning. We were frightened and had no choice but to go in to work.”
An hour later the building crumbled. Here is a list of labels that were being made in the building that collapsed:
Joe Fresh, owned by Loblaws Inc. of Ontario, Canada (custom records and labels found on site)
“Free Style Baby” sold at Spanish retail chain “El Corte Ingles” (labels found on site)
“European Project owned by Manifattura Corona (Italy) (labels found on site)
Velilla – Spanish work clothing company (labels found on site)
And here is where the finger pointing begins. The race to the bottom, a bi-product of unchecked capitalism, ensures that no one is really responsible for what happened.
Plausible deniability: A condition in which a subject can safely and believably deny knowledge of any particular truth that may exist, because the subject is deliberately made unaware of said truth so as to benefit or shield the subject from any responsibility associated through the knowledge of such truth.
The owner of the plaza that housed the garment factories doesn’t claim responsibility, because the factories had chosen to operate in the building without demanding structural upgrades first.
The owners of the the garment factories are not responsible, because they are only trying to meet the demands and deadlines of the multinational corporations who they make clothing for.
The companies who sell clothing in their stores are not responsible, because they assume that the government of Bangladesh is enforcing labour laws that align with their codes of conduct.
The government of Bangladesh is not responsible, because if they start to reinforce labour codes, international corporations will pull out of Bangladesh, with significant economic ramifications.
The customers buying clothing are not responsible, because they assumed that the company selling them would be monitoring their factories. And, at the end of the day, stylish clothing for low prices trumps any further investigation as to where that clothing comes from.
In essence, the landlord blames the factories, the factories blame the multinational corporations, the multinational corporations blame the government, the government blames the economic climate, and the customers blame their ignorance or inability to afford clothing that is ethically made.
And no one is left to take responsibility for the hundreds of people crushed under the weight of concrete.
A last embrace: Two victims uncovered from the rubble from the Bangladesh Factory Collapse. Photo by Taslima Akhter. Photo Source: http://lightbox.time.com/2013/05/08/a-final-embrace-the-most-haunting-photograph-from-bangladesh/#1
Of course, the reality is that every player in this sequence is responsible. It’s time to make this personal. If you have purchased a Joe Fresh item, you are responsible. If you don’t research where your clothing comes from, you are responsible. If you are a shareholder of once of these corporations, you are responsible. If you manage a sweatshop, you are responsible.
This goes for me too. This is a picture of me several years ago, before I was fully aware of where my clothing was coming from. I am wearing a grey, super comfortable Joe Fresh shirt that I bought for around $15.00. I didn’t realize where this shirt had come from. I was unaware that the people making it were earning wages of 14 cents to 26 cents an hour while working 13 to 14 ½ hour shifts – 6 and 7 days a week. Despite my past ignorance, I have decided to take responsibility today.
This shirt is the only Joe Fresh item I have owned, and I am donating the amount the I paid for it to the Bangladesh Injured Worker’s Relief Fund, set up by the Institute for Global Labour and Human Rights. I have benefited from the labour of these workers, so the least I can do is support their families in a time of absolute crisis.
It will be interesting to see if companies are willing to take responsibility. Since Joe Fresh is close to home, let’s look at their promises in response to this tragedy:
“A new standard at Loblaw, ensuring all of our control brand products are made in facilities that respect local construction and building codes, and a commitment to have Loblaw people on the ground who will report directly to us ensuring that product we produce is made in a manner that reflect our values.”
However, making a real change would require Loblaws to alter its core value for the Joe Fresh line. In a video on their website, the Creative Director explains:
“The Westons came to me and asked me to create this line of apparel, and restrictions were: price point.”
Since restrictions is plural, I assumed there was more coming. But as it turns out, price point was the only restriction. Which means profit at any cost. This is why companies often seek out countries with poor government labour regulation. Cheap labour equals lower prices for customers and bigger profits for shareholders.
Analysts were told that there has been no measurable impact on Joe Fresh sales since the tragedy in Bangladesh.
I am very concerned for the 1000+ families who now have no income. These types of scenarios often push girls into the sex trade, and there is no doubt that traffickers are currently on a hunt in this area of Bangladesh where vulnerability and chaos abounds.
This raises the following question: if families in poor countries are made even more vulnerable to abuse, sex trafficking, and homelessness when a factory shuts down, doesn’t that mean we should continue purchasing products made in these factories, even if the conditions and pay are not adequate? If we stop consuming, won’t we put all these people out of work?
In this situation, I think the best thing that can be done is to plant the good and phase out the bad. Currently, the economics are twisted in such a way that workers in impoverished countries are dependent on their own exploitation. While I believe that we should stop purchasing clothing made by low-paid labour in places like Bangladesh and China, we must simultaneously support fair trade initiatives in these countries. I am perfectly fine with buying ethically made clothing from any country. Every dollar is a vote, and the more we demand ethically made products, the more it will impact communities positively. Eventually, ethically sourced products could become mainstream. People in Bangladesh could gain independence through real opportunities instead of depending on their exploiters for a quasi-livelihood.
7 Things You Can Do:
1. Go through your closet. For every piece of Joe Fresh clothing (or clothing from the other companies mentioned earlier) that you own, make a donation for the amount that you paid for them. Don’t own anything from these clothing lines? Look at the labels and make a donation for every piece made in Bangladesh, whatever the brand.
2. Sponsor a child in Bangladesh. For about a $1 a day, you can provide access to life-saving basics that change a child’s future. World Vision’s child sponsorship programs are community based, meaning that the whole community ultimately benefits in a sustainable and wholistic way. If you want to decrease the likelihood of someone ending up in a sweatshop – or other vulnerable situations – investing in a child’s life is a great place to start. You can refine your search to children in Bangladesh here.
3. Discover your slavery footprint. Find out by taking the survey here and see what you can do. You can find letter templates to companies and other resources too!
4. Run an ethical business. We need a generation of selfless entrepreneurs who have a people motive instead of a profit motive - businessmen and women whose driving motivator goes beyond lining the pockets of first-world shareholders. Currently there are very few companies that source ethically. There is a market for this, so start a business! Go to Made In A Free World for ideas.
5. Research where your clothing comes from. Google the company name with the word “labour practices” and see what you find. Or, pick a product and see if you can find what factory it was made in. My friend had to do this for a university class, and barely anyone was able to complete the assignment due to red tape and corporate run-around. Write a letter to the company in question and tell them that you would like them to source their products ethically.
6. Buy used clothing. This way, you are not contributing to the booming demand for new clothes that are made in these factories. Consignment stores are awesome for this. Bonus: you will save money!
Coincidentally, the catalyst that launched Jay and me into anti-trafficking work was the Catalyst Conference in Georgia six years ago. This annual leadership conference is where we first heard about modern day slavery, sparking a passion in us to fight sexual exploitation. We have learned that good leadership is a vital part of any movement, and are always looking for resources to help us become better leaders and influencers.
Brad Lomenick, the executive director of Catalyst, has recently released a book entitled The Catalyst Leader. For those of you who are wanting to lead with excellence, this book is a treasure chest of counsel. Here is what Brad has to say about The Catalyst Leader.
What can leaders expect from the The Catalyst Leader?
The Catalyst Leader provides practical help for all leaders at any stage of their leadership journey, ultimately defining what it means to be a Catalyst in this generation, and inspiring us all to be true change makers wherever we lead. I believe the book is defining, practical, inspiring, and timely. The book provides perspective and practical application that leaders can put into practice immediately in their leadership today. I hope the book is both a kick in the pants, a punch in the gut, and a pat on the back. Both challenging and encouraging.
Why write this book now?
Because I believe we are at a crossroads of leadership in the US, and ultimately around the world. In fact, I believe we have a leadership crisis in our country. And based on the research we did in partnership with The Barna Group for the book, the survey and data would validate that assumption. We currently have a dearth of leadership in our country. In general, we trust our leaders less today than we have in the past. There is a lot at stake. And it’s time for a new generation of leaders to rise up and take charge.
Catalyst has gathered leaders for 13 years now. We wanted to create a leadership guide, the “ultimate” handbook on influence. It’s our turn to lead now, but we have to make sure we are leading well. I want to see leaders all over the world take their leadership and influence to a whole new level.
Lots of great leaders have created great leadership resources, but most of them aren’t peers to me or my generation. We wanted to create a community driven resource that would be a practical guide for leading over the next 20-30 years. I’m passionate about raising up great leaders, and I’ve devoted much of my life to convening and equipping leaders of all ages and stages in life who want to grow in their leadership abilities. And I’ve written the Catalyst Leader to empower you to lead better, and lead longer.
Perhaps never before have so many young leaders been poised and positioned for influence. Scores of twenty and thirty somethings are running companies, nonprofits, churches, and social innovation projects. They don’t have 10-15 years to figure things out anymore; they need to be equipped and prepared for the journey now. Many leaders today have platforms that exceed their wisdom, experience and maturity. These leaders need the tools and know how for getting it right. I hope The Catalyst Leader is a resource for them to do just that. A roadmap for our generation to lead well.
Our tribe and community of Catalyst leaders are in need of practical and relevant help in regards to their leadership and influence. We currently are dealing with a demise of leadership mentoring in our culture, especially in organizational life, and I want to truly help leaders lead well.
Can you tell us about the importance of calling?
To start with, here’s a working definition of calling: God’s personal invitation for me to work on His agenda, using the talents I’ve been given in ways that are eternally significant. In essence, calling is where your greatest talents and deepest passions intersect. Our vocation should flow from that crossroads. It’s imperative that you discover God’s unique calling on you life.
I’ve come to realize that living and leading from one’s calling is a necessary first step to leading well and becoming a change maker wherever God has planted you. Without understanding your calling, you’ll end up bogged down in the mud of life. But when living out your calling, your work will be better, and you’ll naturally want to work harder. Calling should give us life, and provide us direction. Our vocation should flow out of who we’ve been uniquely designed by God to be.
Think back to your childhood. Identify the things you were good at and energized you. Do they still? What did you naturally look forward to? What barriers are preventing you from pursuing the stuff you love to work on? God desires for a sense of mission to burn within us, driving us forward in the perilous journey of life. I believe God has a unique purpose that He desires to carry out in every single person he creates. He’s carved a specific and significant path for us all. A Catalyst leader is called. Find your uniqueness.
How does someone create legacy where they are right now?
Your legacy, regardless of where you are in your leadership journey, starts now. The way you start determines how you finish. Start with the end in mind. So many of us don’t think about our legacy until we reach the finish line. But creating legacy has to begin when we begin. Starting well means finishing well.
How do you become collaborative without becoming competitive?
Collaboration has to flow from a place of generosity, truly believing that a higher tide lifts all boats. Be more concerned with others. Listen instead of talk. Be interested over interesting.
To be collaborative we must understand that it’s not about me. It’s not about your organization, your non profit, or your project. It’s about connecting people, not competing.
Collaborators are okay sharing their wisdom, their knowledge, their connections, and their networks, because collaboration means working together alongside others. Co-laboring. Building bridges instead of constructing walls. We at Catalyst have partnered with those who might be seen as competitors, because we believe in an abundance mentality. When you have an abundance mindset you are more likely to collaborate instead of compete. Avoid the scarcity mentality – the idea that there is only so much to go around.
You can purchase The Catalyst Leader via the book website as well as through amazon.com (amazon.ca for us Canadians!). And, just in case you were wondering if Brad can bust a dance move, the answer is yes.
Let’s take the influence we have seriously and make an impact in this world!
Archbishop Hélder Pessoa Câmara, a philanthropist who advocated for Brazil’s poor in the 1900s, famously quoted:
“When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why they are poor, they call me a communist.”
I heard this quote at a justice conference I attended on the weekend, in which a common theme seemed to emerge from the sessions: the issue of systemic injustice.
Jay and I are passionate about sex trafficking prevention, but we have experienced significant push back. A social worker who helps street walkers told us all about the dangers and abuse that the women experience on a daily basis, but was afraid to speak on record about demand because she was paid by a government that had made prostitution fully legal. We were rejected funding for our film because critically examining the root causes of trafficking is too controversial.
If we focus on rescue and aftercare for victims of commercial sexual exploitation, we are called abolitionists.
When we ask the question of what systems allowed them to be exploited in the first place, we are called moralists.
Apparently we have stumbled on an unfortunate truth: dismantling systems of exploitation is not sexy. Which is exactly why the documentary we are working on is so necessary.
The systems of injustice connected to sexual exploitation take many forms. Take capitalism, for one. Profit is the soul of capitalism, and it comes at a high human cost. As Shane Claiborne shared the the conference, “when we really love our neighbour as ourselves, capitalism won’t be possible and Marxism won’t be necessary.” Capitalism undermines the ability of the poor and marginalized to have a chance of making a meaningful, sustainable living. If we are serious about ending trafficking, we must examine the system of capitalism that makes the rich rich and keeps the poor poor.
But to this, we face the back lash arguments of “trickle down economics” and the predictable accusations of being socialist.
A second system we are looking at is a legislative one – the legalization (or full decriminalization) of prostitution. In the past 5 months we have been to 10 countries to examine prostitution models, and have learned that making this industry fully legal changes cultural attitudes toward women, provides traffickers with a safer environment to blend in, and makes trafficking victims more difficult to find. Complex issue.
To this we experience the arguments that prostitution and sex trafficking must be kept separate, and that people should be able to do what they want.
A third system we have encountered is gender inequality. In most countries women are at a distinct disadvantage, disproportionately experiencing the negative effects of political and economic decisions. They are seen as objects or burdens, putting them at risk for trafficking, poverty, and rape.
Yet when we address this issue, people are either too disinterested to care, or dismiss us as radical feminists.
So, in order for us to have a popular, noble anti-trafficking campaign, we can’t address capitalism, we should never talk about the legal status of prostitution, we should let boys be boys and not discuss demand, and we should skip over the boring topic of gender inequality.
What does this leave us with? Oh. Right. Prosecution of traffickers and aftercare. We can talk about those. Because no one’s profits are in jeopardy. Corporations are off the hook. So is the sex industry. By this point, the money has already lined someone’s pockets.
But let’s consider the fact that the money required to rehabilitate one victim can be made by a trafficker in a week. And the fact that men who pay for sex have increasingly violent and degrading demands. And that traffickers rarely receive a sentence because international crime cases are extremely complex and extremely expensive to carry out successfully.
Prevention, by nature, requires us to look at systems of injustice, and dismantle them. We must do so with wisdom, patience, discernment, as well as compassion and grace. Our goal is not to press buttons for the sake of pressing buttons, but to examine the motives holding up these structures that make commercial sexual exploitation possible.
I do not have all the answers, because these issues are big, complicated, and culturally sensitive. But until we get serious about prevention by asking the tough questions, we must be willing to accept the fact that we will need more and more after care facilities, and more specially trained police – more and more time, and more and more resources.
I propose we creatively and strategically subvert systemic injustice.
I hate mushrooms. I have been expanding my vegetable horizon a ton in the last 2 years, getting over my dislike of onions, asparagus, and eggplant, as well as overcoming my fear of pomagranates. I now love all these foods and eat them regularly, which makes me feel like I am making healthy (adult) decisions. But mushrooms are a whole other ball game. Fungus weirds me out.
This weekend in New York, Jay and I went to the famous Grimaldi’s – a pizzeria in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. We stood in line for 30 minutes, ordered our pizza once we were seated, and waited for another 50. Our mouths were watering by the time it arrived, but there was a slight problem – the entire pizza was covered in mushrooms. While I often pick them off with ease and pass them to my mushroom-obsessed husband, the mushrooms on this pizza were small and very numerous, baked under the cheese. So, like a 4 year old, I began to pick them off one by one. Jay sat there, annoyed and probably embarrassed, as I meticulously slaughtered my slice.
And then I saw it. A camera. Pointed at my plate. Two girls at the table next to ours were filming me pick at my meal, trying to hold in their laughter as they zoomed in on my plate as well as my concentrated face. All of a sudden, I realized that my moment of immaturity was probably going to be posted online somewhere for the world to see, and I felt extremely embarrassed. Not only that, but I was reminded of the fact that while I sat there picking at my meal, children around the world were digging through garbage to find something edible to quell their aching bellies.
I was silent as we walked to the subway. I was afraid that this video would go viral and be seen by thousands of people. If this video of me gets put online and I never find it, I can’t even respond to it. I felt ashamed. And I felt violated.
As the train rushed into the station and screeched to a stop, a horrific realization dawned on me. Traffickers often make pornographic videos of their victims, and use them as a tool for absolute submission.
“If you try to escape, we will show this to your family.”
“If you don’t comply with our demands, we will spread this around your village.”
“If a customer complains, we will put this on the internet.”
Though for a while I have known this to be a common method of manipulation among traffickers, I have never actually put myself in the shoes of a victim who is being blackmailed.
Take a moment and think of the most shameful or embarrassing thing you have ever done, and imagine it being videotaped and sent to everyone you know.
It might cost you your reputation, your job, your friends, your future opportunities. Or, if you are part of a loving, healthy community, they will love you despite what they have seen you do. Unfortunately, in many cultures, protecting one’s family honour results in victims to bowing to the threats of traffickers.
As much as I hate the discomfort of learning lessons in such a tangible way, I want to thank those girls for filming my childish, embarrassing moment at Grimaldi’s. It has allowed me to walk in another’s shoes and humbled me immensely.
So, if a youtube video with a frowning blonde picking mushrooms out of her pizza goes viral, take a moment to remember those who are being sexually exploited and manipulated for profit. And let’s all become the kind of community that loves others despite their shameful moments, whether those moments have been forced upon them or resulted from poor decisions.
Are you trying to get out of the sex industry, but are afraid of all the unknowns? Three ex-industry girls share what life was like following the big decision.
You can check out the rest of the X-Girls series here. For resources (including the resume template mentioned in one of the clips above), you can go to the Industry & Ex-Industry Girls Only section of the Treasures website.
I recently watched It’s a Girl, a documentary about gendercide in India and China. It opened my eyes to how issues of gender inequality – domestic violence, rape, gendercide, sex trafficking, and income inequality – all bleed into each other. Evan Grae Davis, the director of It’s a Girl, kindly agreed to an interview with Hope for the Sold.
If you could use 5 words to describe the experience of making of It’s a Girl, what would they be?
What are some things you learned that surprised or shocked you?
As the Shadowline Films team traveled in India, we experienced many instances where we were surprised or shocked by discoveries we made about gendercide. For instance, we had understood that it was primarily poor families who were ridding themselves of girls because they could not afford dowry, so we were taken aback when we discovered that it is often just as common, and in some communities, more common among the wealthier class. The story of Dr. Mitu Khurana, who comes from a well-educated family of doctors and married into the same, but yet was tortured and harassed to have a sex-determination test and to abort her twin girls, was a real eye-opener.
The scale of devaluation and neglect of girls and women, from birth to old age, dismayed us. We were horrified to hear that dowry violence and bride burning was so common still today.
And the medical ethics issue, which was addressed by Dr. Puneet Bedi and Dr. Sabu George, surprised us. They spoke of the profit motive of doctors and purveyors of ultrasound technology to exploit the son preference culture in India for personal gain.
How does gendercide in China and India affect sex trafficking?
In both China and India, as a result of sex selection, there are far more men living today than women. In China, there are currently 37 million more men than women and over one million more boys are born than girls each year. In India, there are entire villages in some regions where there has not been a single female birth in a generation.
These severely skewed sex ratios have resulted in an epidemic of sex trafficking. In China, 70,000 girls are stolen from their families every year to be sold to other families who would otherwise have no hope of finding brides for their sons.
On a personal level, what was the most difficult interview for you to conduct and why?
Finding myself standing at the edge of a field in Southern India listening to a woman sharing how she had personally strangled eight of her own newborn daughters in her quest for a son was by far the most difficult interview. She shared so matter-of-factly, often smiling or laughing, as she talked about how she couldn’t afford to raise daughters and made statements like, “Women have the power to give life and the power to take it away.”
Later in the interview, she shared a song about her plight as a woman and the pain of being given in an arranged marriage at a young age. She told us how when she was 15, she was excelling in school and had high hopes for her future, when it was decided that she was to be given as a second wife to her sister’s husband because her sister was unable to have children. Her purpose in life was to bear her husband a son.
This was when gendercide took on a whole new meaning for me, because I realized she was simply a product of the environment in which she lives.
You mentioned that our post on compassion fatigue resonated with you. What was it like to hear such heartbreaking stories, day in day out, and how do you take care of yourself?
After nearly two decades of traveling the world capturing stories of human need for humanitarian and development non-profits and NGOs, I have learned the dangers of compassion fatigue. I have had to learn the balance between not allowing oneself to become numb or uncaring while at the same time protecting your heart from overloading on the seeming hopelessness and overwhelming scope of the need in the world.
But I have to admit, this project challenged me on a whole new level. Besides the multiple trips filming, editing 80 hours of footage into a one hour film over a year and a half sent me right to the edge. I have learned I have to keep reminding myself that I am doing what I can and making a difference and it isn’t up to me to single-handedly solve all the world’s problems (as much as I would like to).
How can we inspire men to be part of the movement? Clearly men feel they have much to lose by empowering women, but what do you think they could gain by doing so?
I have often been asked at film screenings by audiences of 99.9% women why so few men are involved in the movement to end violence against women. I can’t speak for other men, but my journey to becoming an VAW activist began when filming for It’s a Girl in India. I felt intense anger towards the men perpetrating this violence on women. At the same time, I imagined my own wife and daughter (who was 11 at the time) suffering the same fate and felt anger at the thought of good men who might be in a position to defend them, but chose to stand passively by.
But I also think it must be acknowledged that many men may not become involved because the women’s empowerment movement can often feel like a hostile place for men. Sometimes, the most vocal and aggressive women in the feminist movement can make statements implicating all of mankind. The message this sends to the majority of good men who honor and respect women is that we really can’t win in this, we are going to be lumped in with the bad men anyway, so why try. The men who we want involved are the men who are practicing values of honoring women in their own lives , and often don’t even think about it because they grew up in a home that taught them those values, like mine.
Previous to my life-changing experience filming It’s a Girl, I believed that loving and honoring the women in my own life was enough. But I no longer believe that. More men need to take action and add their voices to the movement. I challenge men every chance I get to not remain silent.
You’ve probably had a variety of responses from the film so far. Are there any that stand out to you?
We have been honored and humbled by the amazing response to It’s a Girl! In the few short months since It’s a Girl hit the world stage, over 400,000 people have joined the cause, with thousands more adding to that number every week! Nearly 1 million actions have been taken, ranging from signing petitions to donating to our partners working to combat gendercide in India and China on the front lines.
But above all, we are most proud of the many of you who have responded to the call to action and become culture changers and activists in your own spheres of influence as a result of seeing It’s a Girl. Besides the ongoing dedication of organizations like Women’s Rights Without Frontiers and Invisible Girl Project, there have been some who have stepped up and taken action representing the kind of response we could only dream of.
People like Deesh Sekhon, a wife and mother from Abbotsford, BC who, after seeing the trailer, launched GirlKind Foundation, which is advocating and educating for change in cultural beliefs and taking a stand against Gendercide in India. People like former UN diplomat Michael Platzer and his team, who, after seeing It’s a Girl, organized a one-day symposium at the UN in Vienna on fighting femicide (gendercide), where ambassadors, social scientists, NGO representatives, statisticians, lawyers and feminist activists had the opportunity to speak about gendercide, explain its meaning and causes, and present examples of best practice in fighting gendercide.
I wish I could mention all of the champions who have stepped up after seeing the film and made it all worth while! We look forward to 2013 being a year that history will look back upon as a turning point in the battle to restore value and equality to the women of India and China.
Are there any hopeful trends or stories that signify hope for change?
There is significant work occurring on many fronts in the battle to end gendercide. As the issue gains more exposure through the stories coming out of India and China, and as more people become aware, we are seeing champions and heroes of the cause emerging practically every day! But the son preference culture that underlies gendercide is the result of centuries-old traditions and beliefs and will not change overnight.
But there are many who are innovating new ways to bring change. For instance, Will Muir is an Indian businessman who has started an organization called Equal Community Foundation, and is working to change the fundamental attitudes men have towards women and engage men and boys as a positive force in the fight for the rights of women and girls. He has recruited innovators and creative thinkers throughout Asia to help determine new ideas for mobilizing men to understand and defend the value and dignity of women in India.
Will is just one example of a movement growing throughout the world today. My hope is that It’s a Girl will educate and mobilize many more to join this movement and, one day, we will see gendercide become a distant memory of the past.
The A21 Campaign recently shared these stats via twitter:
52% of traffickers who recruit victims are men, 42% are women and 6% are teams. #ShockingTruth
Setting aside the fact that trafficking statistics are hard to nail down due to the nature of the trade, there is a sad truth embedded in this tweet. In a dog eat dog world, women are exploiting other women.
On the streets of Las Vegas, Hispanic women hand out promo cards with naked body parts of other women, with a phone number people can call “for a good time.” I tried to make eye contact with the women handing out cards, but it was impossible. They had likely been pushed into a job like this out of financial desperation.
As outlined in the documentary, It’s a Girl, in India and China women are killing their own babies based solely on the fact that they are female. The cultural and legal pressures of having a girl have created an environment in which mothers not only kill or abandon their own daughters, but urge other women to do the same.
While we were in Amsterdam, we met a young woman who, despite being a trafficking victim herself, began to threaten, abuse, and train “newer” girls at the demand of her pimp. In some cases, once a girl begins to “lose her value,” her trafficker will hold out a carrot that is hard to resist:
“If you bring ten new girls to me, I will let you go.”
Around the world, there are some women who are fighting to legalize or fully decriminalize prostitution, even though it promotes gender inequality by creating a culture in which men view women as commodities. These regions often end up being hot spots for trafficking and exploitation. Every woman in the sex industry I have spoken with is against sex trafficking and wishes for it to end. However, the industry they promote can end up inflicting harm on other women. Men are conveniently silent on the issue, happy to let women fight the battles on their behalf.
We also must remember that women are not immune from the lure of money. Sometimes women exploit other women for the same reason as men do – the money is just that good.
The way that women treat other women reminds me of how child soldiers are sometimes forced to shoot their own families, or prisoners of war are forced to carry out torture on fellow countrymen. Exploiting or hurting a person in our “tribe” strips away pieces of our humanity and assaults our identity.
The exploiter and the exploited are both enslaved.
As easy as it would be for me to say that women need to stop exploiting or hurting each other, I have never been in a position where I’ve had to make those decisions.
I have never been forced to make a bad choice because of poverty. I have never been pressured by cultural norms to kill my baby simply because it is a girl. I have never had the promise of freedom held before me in exchange for luring others into the sex trade. I don’t know what it is like to find my identity in how much sex I can sell.
And so the statistic that 42% of traffickers are women humbles me and saddens me. I am humbled because for some reason, I have been given a life in which I have not had to make such difficult decisions. I often wonder what I would do if faced with such circumstances. What does justice look like when I am not worthy to judge?
But as I stand humbled, I am also saddened. Everything in me longs for women to stand in solidarity with other women, in compassion and with courage.
I usually like to wrap up my blog posts in a nice little bow, with some food for thought and possible solutions. But sometimes I stand at a loss. Sometimes I think I just need to allow myself to be sad, to mourn a world where human beings prey on each other.
When I was 7 years old, I had stereotypes about Africa. These were based on two things – those poor, starving children on TV, and my colouring books with pictures of safari animals. As a result, in my little world Africa was hungry and dangerous. Then my parents told me we were moving to Ethiopia. They assured me that we were going to be fine and see lots of exciting things, but I remained a skeptic.
We landed in Addis Ababa at night, and were driven to the house we would stay in while we looked for our own. We passed a fruit stand that was closing for the day, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t like fruit, but at least I could find my way back here if something happened to my parents and I was desperate for food. I memorized way just in case. ”Good thing I’m on top of this,” I thought.
Turns out Ethiopia was not what my childlike stereotypes had predicted. Yes, there was poverty. Plenty of it. But there was much life also. Bright colours and delicious food and cool people and interesting animals and adventure. All seen through the eyes of a child.
We left Ethiopia when I was in grade 6, and got settled in Canada. Oddly enough, during my junior high and high school years I developed a new set of stereotypes for Africa. I romanticized it. People around me who had gone on short term trips claimed that Africans were not like North Americans – that they were generous and forgiving and selfless and hospitable and kind. That they were content with little. I fondly remembered many people I had met in Ethiopia and agreed. I couldn’t wait to return.
And once again my stereotypes were shattered. In high school and university I returned to the great continent, to volunteer in South Africa and Namibia. I had my clothes stolen from my backyard, I learned about the Rwandan genocide, I had the outside walls of my house plastered with pages of porn in the middle of the night, I was gawked at and disrespected by men, my house mate was threatened with a gun. And I noticed something else – something that made me more uncomfortable than anything else.
Many Africans, just the rest of us, were not in fact content with making a living but wanted to make a killing.
Individuals, companies, and even some churches wanted to learn about get-rich-quick schemes. For the first time I saw Africa – and the world – through the eyes on an adult. It made me sad to realize that my romantic view was just as inaccurate as my childhood stereotypes had been.
In my travels around the world since then, I have realized that there is a common language of greed that is spoken with fluency by our families, communities, institutions, governments, and businesses. It cunningly masquerades under nomers like “The American Dream,” and we market it, sell it, celebrate it, worship it, honour it, and pledge allegiance to it. Success is measured by climbing the ladder, making big money, and being comfortable.
But I propose that the American Dream, or Canadian Dream – whatever you want to call it – has become an idol. I recently heard a message by Jeff Strong in which he explains that at the beginning, idols promise everything and demand nothing in return. It seems to work for a while. For example, in the beginning, money delivers fun and adventure and comfort and security and happiness. But soon the pursuit of money demands more and more, while offering less and less – until we reach a point in which we are giving everything to its pursuit and receiving nothing in return. We have money in the bank and a hot car in the driveway, but it has come at a high cost. We are stressed and discontent, and often it is our families and relationships that are ultimately sacrificed.
The same is true of lust, which fuels sex trafficking. It begins with pornography, and exciting discovery for any ten year-old boy. But just like the idol of money, it pulls us deeper and deeper, promising a better thrill at the next level. Not only do many women end up being exploited as a result of this monster within, but once again, it is families and relationships that end up being sacrificed on its altar.
A friend recently sent me this clip, which has gone viral in recent weeks.
This is where greed leads us, as a society. The spin-off effect is that people at the bottom are put in desperate circumstances. Many of us secretly don’t want the system to change, just in case we are the ones who end up at the top some day. But a system that thrives on such extreme inequality is what creates a perfect storm for all kinds of social issues – like increased gang violence, more teen pregnancies, prostitution, and homelessness.
But before you think I am going on a rant about corporate greed, I would encourage us to look at our own lives. I heard it said once that “direction, not intention, determines our destination.” Your intent to be generous someday means nothing if you fail to plan. Here are some ideas Jay and I have been throwing around.
Set an income ceiling for yourself. Our lifestyle always inflates when our income increases. Determine the amount you need, and whatever you make above and beyond that, give away. This could make pay raises even more exciting, because it creates a bigger giving slush fund!
Inch up by percentage points. Start giving, and increase the percentage each year.
Support local businesses with your dollars. Multinational corporations siphon money out of local communities, leaving less opportunities for people to start their own businesses or have meaningful employment. The lack of corporate accountability and regulation leads to the inequality we see in this video. If you support local entrepreneurs, you are offering someone a chance to make a living doing something they are passionate about while keeping the money in your community.
Employers, pay your workers a living wage and source your products ethically.This will require research and sacrifice. Visit the factories where your products are made and get to know the stories of those making them.
Get to know people who are on the margins. The homeless. The prostituted. The poor. The vulnerable. Personal relationships can motivate unlike anything else.
We should all learn to promote equality. It will take some sacrifice, some discomfort, some risk. But I believe it is worth it. Let’s stop exporting and celebrating an American Dream that is built on the backs of the poor, and cast off the idol of greed that entangles us.
In the past couple of weeks, a horrific tragedy has unfolded in Southwestern Ontario. On May 6, Tim Bosma, a 32 year old husband and father of a toddler, went missing. He had posted an ad online to sell his truck, and never returned after going for a test drive with two potential buyers. A massive search ensued, involving the police, the media, and hundreds if not thousands of volunteers. Posters were pinned onto family homes and business windows.
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