Breaking the Silence: An Overcomers Journey from Trafficking to Freedom

January is trafficking awareness month
As I sit down to write this, I still tremble slightly inside. Not from fear anymore, but from the weight of what I'm about to share. January is trafficking awareness month, but for those like me who have overcome and broken free of exploitation, every month, every day carries the echo of the effects of our experiences.

The stark reality is that human trafficking has become a multi-billion dollar criminal industry, second only to drug trafficking in its global reach. But these aren't just numbers to me – they represent countless stories like mine, of human beings that began in their childhood, in places that should have been safe – my family, my church, my school, my doctor's office. Looking back now, I realize how the threads of exploitation were woven into the very fabric of my life through multi-generational connections with free masonry and organized criminal abuse, hidden behind the respectable façade of religious, educational, and medical institutions. It was all interconnected to an underground world of organized crime with evil intentions.

The hardest part to explain to people is that I didn't even know I was being trafficked. From the outside, I probably looked like any other girl, moving freely through life. But freedom is an illusion when your entire world has been carefully constructed to normalize abuse. When trafficking starts so young, when it's wrapped in the familiar hands of family and authority figures, you don't recognize it as abuse – it's just your normal. This is something many survivors struggle to convey: sometimes the chains that bind us are invisible, even to ourselves. Trauma blocked out to survive leaves you unable to report what is happening to anyone because I, like other survivors, were oblivious to what is being done as it is happening.

The faces of trafficking survivors are as diverse as humanity itself. We are your neighbors, your coworkers, the people you pass on the street. More importantly, we are human beings who were incredibly exploited and dehumanized. While women and girls make up the majority of sex trafficking victims globally, an increasing number of men and boys are being targeted too. The traffickers aren't always shadowy strangers; sometimes they're the people society trusts the most, hiding behind positions of power and respectability. They are teachers, ministers, doctors, lawyers, and others strategically placed to perpetuate the exchange of children and to help keep the operations that are underground undetected. The criminal world goes on protected and covert.

The journey out isn't like escaping in the movies. For me, it wasn't a dramatic dash to freedom – how do you escape something you don't even recognize as captivity? My liberation began in my mind, the day that my dad died and continued after getting a divorce from an abusive husband of 15 years. It has been a slow, painful process of awakening to the reality of what had been done to me. The barriers to freedom weren't just physical; they were psychological, emotional, and deeply spiritual. The traffickers had built walls in my mind more effective than any prison cell.

The aftermath of trafficking leaves scars that run deeper than any physical wound. Research shows that up to 88% of trafficking survivors develop post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Every survivor's healing journey is different, but many of us share common struggles. The flashbacks come without warning – a certain smell, a particular phrase, the way someone moves – and suddenly you're right back there. Nightmares, full-blown flashbacks, depression and anxiety become familiar companions, and trust... trust becomes a foreign language you have to learn all over again.

But here's what I want other survivors to know: healing is possible. It's not linear, and it's not perfect, but it's real. Some days, healing looks like finally being able to sleep through the night. Other days, it's finding the courage to tell your story in a therapist's office or a trusted person, even when your voice shakes. Some days it's fighting the programming that remembering and telling activate. Sometimes it's just surviving another day, and that's enough.

The system that enabled my trafficking thrives on silence and shame. Those who perpetrate these crimes invest heavily in keeping their activities hidden, using everything from threats to sophisticated manipulation to maintain their cover. Law enforcement estimates that for every trafficking victim identified, another twenty cases go unreported. Breaking free often means breaking generational cycles of abuse, challenging powerful institutions, and facing the possibility that some people won't believe your truth. In my case, a person high up in law enforcement was involved. It wasn't safe to report anything to the police once I remembered and it was so many years later.

For those still trapped in trafficking situations, whether they recognize it or not: your life has value. Your life has worth...so much more than the money that is made off of your exploitation. Your story matters. There are people who understand that recovery isn't just about escaping – it's about reclaiming your identity, your voice, and your right to exist as a free human being. The path to healing might seem impossible now, but there are those of us who have walked it before you, who understand the complexity of your situation, and who are ready to support you without judgment.

To the society that often looks away from the uncomfortable reality of trafficking: we need you to hear us. Really listen. Not just to the statistics and the sanitized versions of our stories, but to the messy, complicated truth of how trafficking operates in plain sight. We need you to understand that recovery requires more than just physical freedom – it requires long-term support, trauma-informed care, and a community willing to stand with survivors as they rebuild their lives.

Today, I speak not just as an overcomer, but as an advocate for change. Every time I share my story, I reclaim a piece of myself that was stolen. Every time another survivor recognizes their own experience in my words and realizes they're not alone, we chip away at the wall of silence that protects traffickers. Our voices, joined together, have the power to create real change.

Healing is possible. Freedom is possible. But first, we must be brave enough to look at trafficking for what it really is – not just a distant tragedy that happens to "other people," but a reality that exists in our own communities, sometimes hidden behind the most respectable facades. Only then can we begin to create a world where every person has the chance to live truly free and heal from the long-lasting devastating effects. By raising awareness and speaking out we no longer keep trafficking hidden.