How true is that?!

I love writing each year’s first journal entry on January 1st.  The new year always feels like a blank page to me, its emptiness full of possibilities and promises not yet broken.  Jay and I spent the weekend at a friend’s cottage up in beautiful, winter wonderland Ontario, and as I sat by the window – with tea and journal in hand – watching the snow fall outside, I pondered what surprises awaited me this year. When someday I read the journal entries from 2012, what will I have experienced then that I don’t even know about yet?

I always like to imagine that the year will be full of good surprises.  Great opportunities.  Fulfilled dreams.  Deep relationships.  New friends.  True contentment.  Exciting challenges.  Personal growth. Wild successes.  Memorable adventure.  Knowing full well that life also has its share of dark, mournful, and difficult times, January 1st becomes a strange mix of reflection, hesitation, and hopeful anticipation.

These thoughts have led me to the realization that victims of sex trafficking also have blank pages that lay before them.  Some of these victims have not yet been trafficked but are vulnerable, and 2012 will be the year their nightmare begins.

Others are currently enslaved, forced to endure a horrific existence of exploitation and abuse.  Do they even know a new year has begun?  What is the hope that keeps them alive?  Their blank pages are being violently filled in for them, without much they can do to reclaim their pens, their lives, their voices.

Fortunately, for a portion of these, rescue or escape is on the horizon.  The count down is on, though they are unaware of this.  Tomorrow might be their day of freedom.  Or tonight.  If they only knew that they were days, hours, minutes away from their prayers being answered.  That their next page was truly a fresh start, a new beginning, a chance to live again.

Here’s the cool part: right now each of us holds a pen in our hand, with the opportunity to be part of writing into the stories of others.  Sometimes we only contribute a word, or a sentence, or a paragraph. But our actions can also fill pages, shaping the fates of the ones who are vulnerable, or enslaved, or trying to heal.

Will you join me by picking up your pen and get serious this year about ending modern day slavery and exploitation? My next post will be a 12 point guide to how you can get started, so make sure to check back this week to get some ideas.

Let’s make this year count by writing beautiful stories together. Who knows what we will get to reflect on come January 1st of 2013!

Nail polish.  Eye liner.  Lipstick.  If it has a pink ribbon, it means that your purchase is supporting the fight against breast cancer.  I came across an interesting article this week, about something called “pinkwashing.”  This video clip explains the term:

Ironic isn’t it? Companies that knowingly use cancer-causing ingredients are joining the fight against the very thing their actions are perpetuating.

Reminds me of how the Green Revolution of the 70′s, which promised to grow crop yields and reduce starvation through super seeds and synthetic fertilizers, ended up impoverishing farmers who lacked capital, ruining soil due to unsustainable practices, and harming the health of millions through toxic chemicals and decreased food nutrition.  The very thing that the Green Revolution claimed to fight – starvation – was in fact facilitating poverty and undermining health.

It also brings to mind the many ways that foreign aid has failed due to a double standard.  Many Western countries, like Canada,  provide aid to other countries.  But often this takes the form of “tied aid,” which is essentially aid with strings attached, such as economic agreements that end up benefiting the rich and crumbling the livelihoods of the poor.  Once again, something that is seemingly helpful is in fact increasing vulnerability.

This has had me thinking about how effective our actions are to curb trafficking.  There are some who claim that legalizing prostitution would make women in the sex industry safer, when in reality this only promotes increased demand for paid sex and subsequently the supply of trafficking victims to fill that demand.

Many men are willing to stand behind anti-trafficking initiatives and even provide financial support to organizations on the front lines, but in reality support the pornography industry significantly more through their personal habits.  Not only are trafficking victims often used in pornography, but as author Victor Malarek points out, “pornography is the trigger that send men into the night following the direction of their erections.”

I think of the decisions of governments – how some are fully on board to fight trafficking in terms of punishing offenders but do nothing to provide opportunities for people to lift themselves out of the poverty that threatens to push them into exploitation.

As the Whistleblower movie demonstrates, peacekeepers from Canada, USA, Germany, France, and a host of other countries are sent out to conflict or post-conflict zones to help stabilize the environment and provide some semblance of safety for the people, but their very presence can create a trafficking-based sex industry in regions where it has never existed before.

I also think of our North American spending habits.  We often give ourselves a pat on the back when we make a donation or help someone in need.  But do we know where the stuff we purchase and consume comes from?  Like the chocolate we eat?  Or the coffee we drink?  Or the clothes we wear on our backs?  Several men, women, and children experience forced or exploitative labour to produce much of our furniture, trinkets, jeans, treats, fruit, tea, and coffee. Exploitation takes many forms, and our demand for stuff can truly hurt others around the world.

Depressing?  I know. This is probably not fun to read.  But if we truly want to be effective in ending modern day slavery and exploitation, we have to stop looking at ourselves through rose coloured glasses and face the reality that we are contributing to the problem.

Please let this be a challenge to you this coming year to live intentionally, give generously, act consciously, and love abundantly.  Let’s stop pinkwashing our lives and start making choices that radically change the world.  And don’t get overwhelmed, no one is perfect.  I am still learning so much myself.   Just take it one step at a time and celebrate the victories as they happen one-by-one!

What do you think of pinkwashing?  Do you think we live lives of double standards?  What are you doing or want to do to ensure that you are not undermining your own efforts to fight injustice?

My Grade 4 Class in Ethiopia (I am on the front left with the smirk and purple sweater)

My family moved from Finland to Ethiopia when I had just finished grade two, and many of my childhood memories reside in the Horn of Africa. They were very good memories – of chasing hyenas, having a dozen nationalities represented in one classroom, and taking horse riding lessons to the sound of prayers being recited through the booming loudspeaker of the nearby Orthodox church.

I saw Africa through the eyes of a child, and it was wonderful.  The abandoned tanks I saw in the fields were merely big toys to climb on, and the small, ornate wooden boxes I saw for sale on the streets were just decorative pieces of furniture (I didn’t know they were children’s coffins until years later).  We moved to Canada when I was 12 years old, and all through high school I had a strong desire to go back and see Africa through the eyes of an adult.

After graduation I had the opportunity to volunteer in Namibia, and through it was on the other side of the continent from where I had had my childhood adventures, it was good to be back in Africa.  The smells and sounds brought memories rushing back, and I savoured them. But I was an adult now, and got to see and experience the brokenness and pain that were also part of the continent’s fabric.

I held a baby who had been born with AIDS, drew pictures with street kids whose only source of income was selling wire hangers, and sang songs with eighth graders whose chance of contracting HIV were greater than that of graduating high school.  But because none of these issues affected me personally, I was able to keep my distance emotionally.

One day my friend Sarah and I washed our clothes and set them out to dry in the backyard.  It started to rain, but the Namibian sun had a way of drying things quickly so the clothes were left on the line through the storm.  Or so we thought. Someone came into the yard while it was raining and stole every last article of clothing, right down to our underwear!  I was angry.  We felt violated. We kept looking for people in town wearing our T-shirts, skirts, pants.  I hoped that it had at least been someone with a real need for clothing and not someone with malicious intent.

That is the most violated I have ever felt in my life. Many of you read this in disbelief, because you have been violated much more profoundly.  I cannot even imagine what is must be like to experience physical, sexual, or verbal abuse.   My heart goes out to you if you are one suffering or have suffered through this.

I recently watched Nefarious: Merchant of Souls, and excellent documentary about the global sex trade. In it a woman explains how she got into prostitution at a very young age.  She had been sexually abused as a child by a family member, and when she was in her early teen years, a man offered her money for sex.  She thought, “What?  Someone is willing to pay me for what someone else is already taking from me for free?” That began her life in prostitution, which robbed her of so much more than clothes off a line.  It breaks my heart that so many women in prostitution have sexual abuse in their pre-prostitution past, and it demonstrates that being violated can lead into a cycle of abuse and exploitation.

What is our role in ending abuse in homes?  What can we do to ensure that people do not violate others?  Asking these questions is important if we are to stop the downward spiral of exploitation and trafficking.

Michelle Brock

Ali Moore ready to start pedaling!

Hope for the Sold was a Ride for Refuge partner this fall, and some amazing people hopped on bikes and rode to support our documentary project! It was great to see representation from cities across the country – Vancouver BC, Red Deer AB, and London ON.

These riders raised $2,510 for Hope for the Sold, and I am happy to announce that thanks to their efforts (as well as others who I will write more about later), our film is now over 10% funded! This is a milestone for Hope for the Sold, and those of you who raised support through the RIDE played a big part in that.

I asked those who took part in the RIDE to send in some pictures from RIDE day.  Here they are!

Channing & Kim McCrae ready to hit the road in Red Deer

Love, Sweat & Gears!

Byrdie & Bev Funk after the RIDE in Vancouver

Riding through the fog

Arron Vickery, one of the riders from London, didn’t have pictures but summarized how positive of an experience the RIDE was for him:

“The ride went really well, big turn out, good weather, and lunch was amazing. Whoever the volunteers were they should open their own restaurant. Myself and another member rode the full 100 Kms. I’ve never peddled that far before in one go, but it was a very rewarding challenge.”

To all of you who rode for us in Vancouver, Red Deer, and London, I can’t thank you enough! You sacrificed your time and your energy because you have a heart for the vulnerable and exploited.  I can only imagine how they would feel knowing that someone like you had them in mind as you raised support and put on your helmets.

Michelle Brock

In university I took a political science class called “Conflict & Conflict Resolution,” in which we studied global security issues, war, and threats to peace.  The question laid before us was this: what causes conflict? What is the primary cause of war?

My professor spent the first week convincing us that conflict is mainly caused by issues of security. One country builds its weapons arsenal because it is afraid of its neighbour, who in turn feels threatened and points its guns right back.  The feeling of having one’s security threatened eventually leads to war.  We read articles and had debates.  Yes, indeed security (or lack thereof) seemed to be the number one reason for conflict.

The following week the same professor had us wipe our memory clean of what we had just learned, and went about convincing us that the primary cause of war is greed.  Money is what motivates people, and there would be no conflict if the love of money did not exist.  This also seemed reasonable.  After all, so many of the worlds violent conflicts have been over diamonds, spices, oil.

Can you guess what happened the next week?  The main cause of war was no longer security or greed, but ran along ethnic, cultural, and religious lines. We read story after story of conflicts sparked by groups of people hating other groups of people because of such differences.  How else can the bloodbath between Serbians and Croatians be explained? Once again I felt compelled.

Finally on the fourth week, we learned that the root of conflict really comes down to the most basic environmental resources. Israel and Palestine fighting for water rights in a desert.  Communities in impoverished countries rising up against multinational corporations that were destroying the environment that kept them alive.  As I sat in class I could only imagine what people were willing to do out of desperation when someone else hoarded the natural resources that they relid on.

After all this, our professor asked us to write a paper answering the question: “What is the main cause of conflict?”

Brilliant. I have never agonized over a paper so much in my life.  My professor had clearly made a point that war and conflict are complicated, and those trying to bring peace to these areas need to realize that the issues are all connected somehow.

That class taught me so much about the world, and I have been able to apply what I have learned in various other contexts.  Lately I have been thinking about how these same variables could affect, motivate, spark, or foster human trafficking.

Security. Boys whose fathers and uncles are involved in the flesh trade might find themselves in a precarious position if they don’t join the business.   Their future and personal security could be at stake if they do not meet expectations. Traffickers who want to quit the trade or cooperate with authorities fear for their safety, as traitors are not treated with grace.

Girls who have been trafficked are also affected by concerns for security.  Many are threatened with the safety of their families back home if they do not cooperate.  Traffickers are particularly crafty at manipulating young mothers by saying they will kill their child if they do not perform.  And they often do.  Security is definitely a variable that keeps the cycle of trafficking moving.

Greed. Human trafficking is a multi-billion dollar industry.  Traffickers capitalize on lust to make a buck, and many drug traffickers switch over the the sale of humans because the profit margin is so much higher.  You can sell a weapon or drugs once, but you can sell a woman’s body over and over again.

Ethnicity. The way that each culture views women plays a huge role in trafficking.  In North America a strange scenario is at play, because music videos, TV, and advertisements often portray women as sex objects even though the workplace and academic world is getting progressively more equal.

Men who pay for sex often justify their actions through ethnic stereotypes.  Author Benjamin Perrin was once interviewed on a radio station and the host referred to Aboriginal women as “just hookers.” Many guys convince themselves that Asian girls love to fulfill their sexual fantasies because they are “submissive by nature.”  Traffickers who have wives and children at home have no problem selling girls from other families, especially if they are of another nationality.  Ethnicity is absolutely wrapped into the flesh trade.

Environment. My friend Tara recently went to visit the floating village slums of Cambodia.  An estimated 1 to 2 million people live on the river in little shacks that float on the water, and they technically do not exist according to the government.  To help wrap your mind around this reality, you can read Tara’s article describing her experience.  She explains that because the river has become so toxic, the men can no longer find fish and have to travel upstream for their food.  The lack of accessible food makes these families extremely vulnerable, and many are selling their daughters so the rest of the family can afford something to eat.

Security.  Money.  Ethnicity.  Natural resources. They spark wars and perpetuate exploitation. They make countries bomb other countries and traffickers manipulate the vulnerable.  They lead to bloodshed and rape, pillage and brothels.  But I believe that fear and greed are the the common themes that weave themselves into each of these factors.  Ultimately this is a heart issue, isn’t it?

What do you think is the strongest factor in sex trafficking?  Are there other variables that are missing?  How are we perpetuating trafficking?  How is our society perpetuating it?  And what can we do to reverse it?

Michelle Brock

I recently went to see The Whistleblower with my husband Jay and some abolitionist friends.  The movie is based on the book (my review here) by Kathryn Bolkovac and Cari Lynn, about Bokovac’s real life experience working for a US military contractor in Bosnia. There she uncovers that peacekeepers from several international agencies are involved in sex trafficking.

The film is gritty.  My husband came very close to throwing up in the theatre.  The film is heartbreaking.  I wept as I watched.  At the end when the room was clearing out, I saw two elderly women at the back, sitting in a stunned silence from what they just saw.  I asked two of my friends who saw the film to share their thoughts.  Heather Sheppard wrote the following:

Heather Sheppard

Last weekend I watched the film The Whistleblower, and have spent every day since attempting to decipher my sentiments on Kathryn Bolkovac’s story, as told by authors Kondracki and Eilise Kirwan. Moved does not begin to describe how I felt after watching the film, a true story of an international police task force (IPTK) who utilized their power, abused trust and facade of legitimacy in order to perpetuate the horrific realities of an Eastern European sex trafficking operation.

I am no expert on the topic of human trafficking. I have read The Natashas by Victor Malarek and learned briefly about it throughout my undergraduate degree in International Development, (mainly that it is the third largest source of profits for international organized crime, after only drugs and weapons). On a trip to Kosovo in 2009 I was made aware by social workers how the sale of (mostly) women for sexual enslavement is a reality they are often forced to face in their field. I was however, never fully aware of the complicit role of the United Nations and the security companies which they utilize in the perpetuation of modern day slavery.

Post-conflict regions face vulnerabilities of many kinds, and when the very people entrusted to guide the transition from conflict to peace are directly involved in the kidnapping, cross-border smuggling and sexual enslavement of innocent victims, true peace will never be achieved. I admire Kathryn Bolkovac’s courage and her willingness to blow the whistle on such blatant injustice, when in all likelihood it meant giving up any future employment opportunities in the often-corrupt world of IPTK.

Since watching The Whistleblower I am motivated to become better informed, learn the stories of survivors and remember that in order for any illegal trade to thrive, a demand is required. No level of demand in the sale of human beings is appropriate; may Bolkovac’s example set precedence and prove to be an ongoing deterrent.

Jennifer Lucking, who saw the film with us, writes the following.

Mark and Jennifer Lucking

For myself, this is not the first exposure I’ve had with human trafficking; I have done a lot of reading, seen various films, and have done work with human trafficking survivors, and I also plan to write my thesis on some aspect of human trafficking.

For my husband, being married to me he has obviously heard about human trafficking, but on a much smaller (and toned down) scale. His exposure to human trafficking has mainly come from how it affects me, hearing my passionate (and often angry) rants and seeing how affected I am after meeting with a human trafficking victim. It was interesting to see how the movie moved him. He left feeling angry. Anger at individuals who could inflict so much pain on other human beings. Anger at politicians and officials who do not do enough to prevent it. Anger at people who turn a blind eye. And I could empathize with him, because I too felt that initial rush of anger at the beginning of my journey. It was almost refreshing to see his anger, to see that first spark of raw emotion that most of us feel the first time we really understand and see the ugliness of modern slavery.

As for myself, I felt sadness. It took all I had not to break down in tears as I watched the film. For those who have not seen it yet, please be forewarned that will likely push you out of your comfort zone no matter what kind of experience you have with human trafficking. It is raw, and it is real. And the realness moved me.

My husband and I talked about the movie all the way home, and we wondered how the actors felt after filming scenes filled with rape, humiliation and brokeness. How do the actors deal with that kind of emotion after the director yells Cut!? I couldn’t help but watch those scenes and think of the survivors I have come into contact with. And it brought me to tears. Believe me, the anger was still there as I watched the scenes. The anger at injustice. The anger at individuals who are filled with so much evil. But after the anger comes hope. Hope for change and hope in people who are working so hard to make a difference.

You can read the rest of Jen’s review on her blog.

It frustrated me that the security contractor Bolkovac worked for has a different name in the film.  I am assuming that DynCorp threatened another lawsuit if their name was mentioned.  How can the truth be told when those who need to be held accountable hide behind their cash and power?

For those of you who want to see a political thriller you can eat popcorn to, this movie might not be suitable.  However if you want to catch a glimpse into the raw reality of what some people are experiencing in this world, The Whistleblower is one to see.

Michelle Brock

I recently watched Glory Road, the inspirational true story about a basketball coach who defied status quo in the 1960s when he recruited black players onto his college team.  The movie shows how the team fought exhaustion, racism, personal differences and social pressure, resulting in one of the most remarkable college ball seasons in history.

I love movies like that. I am always inspired by those who see mountains of impossibility as challenges to overcome, and oceans of uncertainty as opportunities to spread big sails.  But I can’t help but feel frustrated when I watch sometimes, for the following reasons:

In real life there is no sound track. There is no music building to a crescendo when a person is about to reach success but doesn’t know it yet.  The string instruments that romanticize a difficult moment are replaced by silence.

In real life the journey takes a long time. If a movie is an hour and a half in length, that provides the character with about an hour’s worth of struggle to work through.  The rest of the film is filled with glorious moments or snapshots of fun or comedy that allow the viewer to relax and grab a handful of popcorn.

In real life it is harder to catch the artistic beauty of your surroundings.  A camera can zoom in on a mother’s tears, a leaf falling to the ground, or light breaking through a window.  It can make run down buildings look epic and the freezing cold look perfectly comfortable.

In real life you can’t practice a scene to get it perfect.  You don’t get to choose the ideal person for a role.  You can’t pick and choose what parts you want to keep and those you wish to leave out.  You can’t simplify a story line for an audience but instead have to wrestle through complexities and messy situations.

When a person is living a life worth making a movie about, it does not always seem like a ‘glory road.’

For those who are trying to make a difference in this world, terms like glory, success, and triumph are often replaced by words like tedious, discouraging, and exhausting.  I wonder what it was actually like to be William Wilberforce when his poor health did not permit him to get out of bed, or Mother Theresa when her feet were sore, or Thomas Clarkson writing late into the night when everyone else had long gone to bed, or Nelson Mandela as he sat for decades in a cold prison cell.

I wonder.

I think of today’s abolitionist movement to end slavery and exploitation.  I think of those who are busting down doors of brothels only to have business return to normal the following day.  Those who are trying to help victims they’ve rescued, only to see those same girls and boys return to life on the streets because true inner healing is so hard.  Those who are raising awareness wondering if anyone even cares or remembers what they say.  Those who work hard all their lives to serve others and no movie is ever even made.

I struggle too.  I feel small an insignificant, untalented and ineffective.  Too unorganized and fearful. Not driven enough, productive enough, dedicated enough.  Fighting resistance is hard.  Fighting for justice is going against the current, and the current is strong.

We need each other. We all need encouragement and support.  We need reminders that this is worth it, that people’s lives are at stake, that we have been given a stewardship.  We need to take time and look for beauty around us, in the old run down buildings, the eyes of a mother, or a crisp fall day. And maybe, just maybe, we need to take world changers off their pedestals so we can identify with them as real people that can show us how to overcome adversity without an orchestra playing in the background.

Michelle Brock

Last week I received an email from a reader that said this:

I have noticed part of your site reads “if it were your daughter, girlfriend, sister or wife …..What would you do?” I am just curious as to why you have limited this statement to describing female victims when there are male victims of sex trafficking as well?

This is a great question and one that I’d like to address on the blog for everyone to read, because I think it is very important and not talked about enough.  I emailed Brian McConaghy, a friend of mine from Ratanak who works with children in and teenagers in Cambodia, and this is what he had to say:

From what you’ve seen in Cambodia, what ages are the boys that are trafficked for sex?

Initially trafficked and abused from the age of about 8-9. This later develops into an older form of trade with teenage boys who often, being totally gender confused as a result of earlier abuse, become ladyboys and male prostitutes.

Who is buying and selling these boys? I am assuming it’s generally men, not women, who pay to abuse them?

Largely International pedophiles and as the boys grow older into Lady boys and male prostitutes the customers are homosexual/ bisexual international sex tourists. There is some domestic abuse of boys but it is limited.

Brian McConaghy & Family

When my husband Jay and I made our first documentary about sex trafficking in Canada, we interviewed Brian.  Before the camera started to roll, he told us that one boy that came to their kids club could not even physically sit when doing the activities because of the abuse he was being forced to endure each night.  That is why Ratanak and Hagar International partnered together to build a high security safe house specifically for boys.  Brian and his wife have also adopted two Cambodian boys, in an effort to give them a life that would prevent them from falling prey to such abuse.

Overall though, boys and men are trafficked for sex in much smaller numbers than girls and women. They are trafficked in large numbers for labour though, and can be found on fishing boats, cocoa plantations, coffee farms, construction sites, and brick factories.  The horrific conditions in these ‘work’ environments strip them of their dignity and livelihood.  Can you imagine your brother or father being forced to work in a dangerous, grueling industry for no pay?  Heartbreaking.

End Slavery Now image of a brick factory

Hope for the Sold focuses mainly on sexual exploitation, and women and children are the most vulnerable for this.  But the experience of men must not be overlooked.  Do we ever check to make sure that what we purchase at the store is not supporting slavery?  Thanks Elizabeth for such an important question.  We have a long way to go if we are to truly end slavery in our world.

For some informative articles on this, check out:

• Trafficking of Men in Thailand, from www.humantrafficking.org
• Trafficking of men a trend less considered The case of Belarus and Ukraine, IOM Migration Research Series
• Campaigner’s warning as first cases of men being trafficked into Scotland as sex slaves are revealed by Annie Brown

**If you haven’t heard already, we’re making another film!  Find out the details here.

Michelle Brock

Today in Canada is a day of rest.

A day for family and friends.

A day to get ready for the fall season.

A day to look back on summer’s memories.

A day to live, to read, to savour.

Today for victims of trafficking is a day of work.

A day full of customers and their demands.

A day to get ready for the busy night ahead.

A day to look back on life as it was before.

A day to cry, to despise, to survive.

As we rest, play, and spend time with loved ones today, let us not forget those whose Labour Day is filled with toil and torture.

Michelle Brock