It’s Day 12 of the ride, and what a whirlwind it’s been. In just under two weeks, I’ve felt the full spectrum of emotions: sadness, excitement, fear, frustration, and overwhelming joy. This is, without question, the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And yet, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. There are moments on the road when the challenge feels nearly insurmountable. Seven-plus hours every day on the bike, relentless hills that seem to stretch forever, and exhaustion that settles deep into your body. In those moments, I have to ground myself and remember why I’m doing this. Two reasons continue to rise to the surface and with each mile, I see how deeply intertwined they are.
First, I ride to fight for and become a better advocate for survivors of human trafficking; individuals whose stories, strength, and resilience we are learning more about each day. Second, I ride in pursuit of community; a space where I am fully accepted and loved for who I am.
A few days ago, I was on SAG duty with my teammate Jasmine, and we wanted to bring a little joy to the team. Since it was Pride Month, we decided to surprise everyone with a Pride-themed celebration at our host home. We stopped by a dollar store, gathered rainbow treats and decorations, and sprinkled hints throughout the day. At SAG stops, we’d say things like, “Y’all should just be proud of yourselves,” or “Just be who you are!” We laughed as our teammates looked at us with confused smiles, but behind the silliness something deeper was stirring.
While in the van, a post from the Polaris Project came across my feed. It read: “LGBTQIA+ youth are significantly more vulnerable to human trafficking due to increased rates of rejection, homelessness, and marginalization.” In fact, studies show that LGBTQIA+ youth are 120% more likely to experience homelessness than their non-LGBTQIA+ peers, a major risk factor traffickers exploit.
Reading that made my heart sink.
LGBTQIA+ youth are significantly more vulnerable to human trafficking due to increased rates of rejection, homelessness, and marginalization.
Even with limited knowledge at the start of this journey, I quickly learned that traffickers prey on vulnerability. They exploit the deep human need for love, safety, and belonging. For some, they offer a roof over their head. For others, it’s a false promise of family or unconditional acceptance. As someone who identifies as LGBTQIA+, I’ve seen how devastating it can be when families, friends, and communities turn their backs on people simply for living authentically.
Before coming out, I convinced myself that rejection was inevitable. I carried a heavy ache, fearing that those I loved most would be ashamed of me. And to be honest, some of that fear proved true. I’ve had communities I trusted reject me, redefining how they saw me the moment I came out. But I’ve also experienced the most extraordinary love. Family members who chose to learn, grow, and embrace me with open arms. That kind of acceptance is life-saving.
So when I’m pedaling in the lowest gear imaginable, crawling up what feels like an impossible incline, I remind myself why I’m here. Every single human being deserves a place where they are fully accepted and loved. It is heartbreaking, and dangerous, when people are made to feel like they have nowhere left to turn.
We have the power to change that.
Ending human trafficking is about more than policy and prevention, it’s about compassion. It’s about meeting people where they are, loving radically, and creating communities that are safe, inclusive, and affirming. We can all take part in that change, simply by choosing kindness, offering grace, and practicing radical acceptance.
I don’t know what the rest of the ride will hold, but I do know this: Pedal the Pacific has already changed me. And I can’t wait to see the person I’ll become.
