I ride because I have the freedom to do so.
I first heard about Pedal the Pacific in 2022, when a friend from high school, Sydnee Mwakutuya started posting about her rides. As I dug deeper and learned more about the cause, I was in awe. I remember thinking, “She has to be one of the bravest, strongest people I know”. I went back and forth about applying, unsure of whether I was "enough" for something like this. But this past August, I finally submitted my application, and I am so proud to say that I’m part of the Pedal 2025 team. Sydnee, thank you. I am forever grateful to you for introducing me to this community of compassionate, resilient women.
I’ve spent my career working at a grocery store. It’s the kind of job where you interact with your entire community—families, elders, young people, people on their best days, people on their worst. It was through this lens that it hit me: Everyone needs groceries. That includes traffickers, survivors, and victims. That realization filled me with rage.
The more I learned about human trafficking, the harder it became to ignore the reality that this is happening around me. I live in Houston, Texas, one of the cities most frequently cited as a hub for domestic sex trafficking. It’s not just a statistic. In a city of millions, known for its diversity and culture, there are still people exploiting the vulnerable and the underrepresented.
That’s why spreading awareness feels urgent. Sex trafficking is a $99 billion global industry, and yet it hides in plain sight. (Polaris Project is an amazing resource to understand the scope of this crime.) Pedal the Pacific has taught me that you don’t need a specific job title or background to be an advocate. I used to think, “I work at a grocery store, what can I do?” But advocacy isn’t reserved for policy experts or nonprofit professionals. It’s for anyone willing to show up, learn, and use their voice.
But advocacy isn’t reserved for policy experts or nonprofit professionals. It’s for anyone willing to show up, learn, and use their voice.
Gracie Hornhug (PTP 2024) said it best in our recent Impact Report:
“Pedal is so much more than a bike ride. It’s a demonstration of doing everything you can with what you have in service of something greater.”
That quote has stayed with me. Training rides are hard. The idea of biking from Seattle to San Diego is, frankly, terrifying. But it’s not about the bike. It’s about the women riding them, the voices we carry, and the message we share.
I didn’t learn to ride a bike until 5th grade, a bit later than my peers. My friends would zip around the neighborhood for hours while I stayed behind, until one day, my friend Alyssa taught me. The thought that something I learned how to do at 10 years old could have the power to propel my work as an advocate is unbelievable. That’s the thing: advocacy starts with what you have. For me, that was rusty skills on two wheels and a willingness to learn.
At the beginning of this year, I felt mostly rage. Our team had just started reading Girls Like Us by Rachel Lloyd. Her powerful reflections on her own experience and those of other survivors shook me. It felt like drowning in sorrow, and I knew that still wouldn’t touch the pain victims and survivors feel. That rage hasn't gone away entirely, but it no longer consumes me. I've found grounding in knowing that I can take action. I can start hard conversations. I can mobilize others. I can be a catalyst for change.
We ride in support of incredible organizations, The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, Safety Compass (Oregon), Engedi Refuge (Washington), and Scarlet Road (Washington). These teams are doing essential, on-the-ground work to protect and empower survivors. They inspire me every day.
Yes, I can ride a bike. I can start a conversation. But so can anyone. That’s the beauty of this fight: it’s approachable. You don’t have to be perfect or have all the answers. You just have to bring your authentic self, stay curious, ask hard questions, and speak UP.
You asked me why I ride?
I ride because I have the freedom that so many others have been stripped of.
I ride to mobilize my community.
I ride because I didn’t know anything about trafficking before Pedal, but I had a voice and I found a community that helped me use it.
I ride because anyone can be an advocate, and I believe in the power of showing up.
There is nothing more comforting, and more powerful, than knowing there are countless ways to be an advocate. This fight takes a village and I found mine in Pedal.
