We say it all the time around here, but trafficking really isn’t like the movies. It’s not exactly how a lot of ads and “education” campaigns portray it either. I’ve heard comments like, “If it can happen here, it can happen anywhere!” from fellow small-town residents surprised at the proximity of sex trafficking around them. I’ve said things like that too. And I’ve pictured white girls stolen from the suburbs when I imagine the face of someone who has been trafficked. I’ve believed heroic narratives of parents who track down their children, rescuing them from the hands of their captives. But what those too-good-to-be-true stories fail to show is that many survivors and victims of trafficking are exploited by those in their life who are supposed to care most for them.
So why do we believe these misconceptions about trafficking? Why is this narrative of “sweet suburban white girls” and “sex slavery” pushed by the entertainment industry? Why are middle to upper class folks so surprised when trafficking shows up close to home?
The realities of trafficking are nuanced and the truth is, these traumas do exist on our doorsteps. They ARE close to home. So we shouldn’t have to wait to see such a blatant case of trafficking to start caring for those already vulnerable to it. It shouldn’t have to be a face we know personally to start paying attention. Teachers, social workers, doctors, and the like are highly likely to encounter cases of trafficking in their day-to-day because sex trafficking is interlaced in our society far more than we realize. So to guess at some answers to those questions: The proximity and reality of trafficking could seem so shocking because the narrative that limits the scope of the issue is both convenient and comfortable. It’s much harder to face the issues of poverty, racism, disability, sexism and misogyny, classism, and all the factors that play integral roles in the perpetuity of sex trafficking. These oppressive systems are already prominent in contemporary Western culture and each of them (among others) touch the sex trafficking system as well as the consumption of it. While sexual coercion, exploitation, and trafficking are very specific kinds of traumas, you can’t talk about trafficking without also talking about the pre-existing systems that have put oppressed populations at risk to its effects. The popular narrative of trafficking is so commonly accepted because it removes the intersectionality of the issue; it disregards the complexities of exploitation and prioritizes protection for consumers of the sex industry (commonly white middle-aged, middle to upper class men). If you control the narrative, you can control the response to it. If you remove the face and humanity of the oppressed, you can continue to oppress them while everyone else turns an ignorant eye. By continuing to accept this flawed painting of how sex trafficking operates in the world, we are not elevating or advocating for the voice of survivors to be heard. We are protecting the power of those who profit from the solicitation of women, girls, and minors for sex.
This is precisely why an accurate lens to see sex trafficking through is essential in order to holistically eradicate these injustices. Fear mongering and dramatizations of sex trafficking aren’t only unproductive, they just aren’t accurate. To properly care for the needs and prosperity of survivors, we have to start talking about who is controlling the narrative. Who is in power? Who has power over the system and who has the power to change it? So to begin this introspective work, I’m asking both you reading this and myself:
- How am I perpetuating the systems that play a role in sex trafficking?
- How do I (as an able-bodied, middle class white woman) respond to oppression of marginalized communities?
- How do I respond to racism, sexism, ableism?
- What products am I purchasing and from where?
- What media do I consume regularly?
- How do I talk about trafficking with children I know facing risk factors of their own?
Reforming the narrative that has defined how a lot of us from privileged backgrounds view sex trafficking is an ambiguous and massive task. These questions are uncomfortable, difficult, and intimidating. But attempting to answer them and others is a step toward compassion and trauma-informed understanding. When we can look inward into how we specifically accept false narratives about oppression in general, I believe there is hope in enacting change within the sex trafficking industry specifically.
-Hannah
