Human trafficking does not always look like how it does in the movies. Those are horrific and extreme examples. Sometimes, it happens on a much smaller scale right under our noses. Perversion and lust are not bound by a location's population size. It happens in smaller communities, smaller towns, and smaller neighborhoods. Places that you might have grown up in.
I was 12 years old the first time I was sold for services to men. I was new to town and met some people who did not have my best interest at heart. I had already lost my childhood innocence prior to this situation, so I was just kind of numb to it all. This was not a situation where I was trapped and forced with no escape. This was a situation where I knew that if I wanted to hang out with these friends, their friendship came with strings attached.
In the beginning I didn't realize what was going on. I was clueless. I just thought it was so cool to have older friends; friends with cars and houses, and friends who gave us drugs and alcohol. But these were grown adult men; married, with kids and jobs. They were hanging out with and picking up elementary school girls from the playground and taking them back to their houses or hotels. I was desperately seeking male attention, trying to fill a void in my life from my own absent father. Because of the childhood molestation, I did not know any different. It became normal for me to think that to be seen in this world, I had to do something sexual to get attention.
Over time I started noticing my friend would get phone calls, and it sounded like she was writing down someone's food order. "Five girls under the age of 16, bring the redhead (that was me), dress this way, drugs or no drugs, and then the time and location." These parties were called Candy parties, and all of us young girls were the candy for the men. My friend was also only 12 at the time, but she had already been doing this for a long time. Her own mother had been making money off her since she could walk. It was a family ordeal. The mother expected drugs and money, so she passed the baton to her daughter, so to speak. And there I was in my desperation, so I was an easy target.
My friend's mom began to take us into bigger cities, hours away from our town. She would get a hotel room and make us go down to the street below. Opening the hotel room window, she would handle all the business from her perch on the windowsill where she was safe. As men would approach, she would negotiate our costs and what services we would provide. Nothing was off the table for us; we were to do whatever they wanted and paid for. I remember one time a man offered to buy me with a check because that was all he had, and she sold me to this man and let him pay for me with a questionable paper check. My self-worth had sunk to an all-time low. We would go off with these strange men in this great big city with not one person knowing where we were or if we would ever return. It is only by the grace of God that we survived.
Although I was not forced to be in this environment against my will, once I was at a party or location, I no longer had a choice about anything. There were physical consequences for saying no or changing your mind. And forget about being taken home until your obligations were met, willingly or forcefully. More times than I could ever count, I was sexually assaulted, knocked unconscious, beaten, and a time or two I was even left for dead.
My friend's mom (that set up all the arrangements and took whatever payment she got for us) would tell me, "Danielle, stop fighting it, just do it. Close your eyes and it'll be over soon enough. I was 12. My daughter is 12 now, and I was doing things at her age that I hope she doesn't even know about at this time in her life."
I did not get to join clubs and play sports. I was 14 when I dropped out of high school. By that time, all I cared about was my next high. It was easier to go to these parties if I was high or drunk out of my mind so that I wasn't mentally present when I was being passed around like a puppet. Like I didn't matter. I was only an object with no value. My depression and anxiety had become unmanageable, and I had several suicide attempts where I was hospitalized for multiple days. I lost count at over 10 hospital and rehab stays. I became a self-cutter. I hear other cutters say they cut to feel something. That's absolutely true. You walk around in such a vegetative, survival mode for so long that you've blocked out any type of emotions; it's like you've lost the ability to feel. Today, as an adult I've tried to camouflage my scars with tattoos. It makes them less obvious and less noticeable if there's something bright and pretty there.
During all of this, I started having horrible panic attacks. They tried every medication they had at the time, but nothing could calm me down. When I closed my eyes, I saw the men and what they were doing to me, and I could not stop them. But even in the midst of my sinful, broken life, during a panic attack, I'd cling to my Bible and just cry. I'd beg God to forgive me and just end it all; He never did. He never just let me die like I begged Him to. He had a plan to take what the enemy meant for evil and turn it for good one day. I just didn't know it yet.
Even living out on the streets I always knew the Lord loved me. Like most people, I stray from time to time, but He's always there, woo'ing us home to Him. I know that no matter where I went, I always carried a backpack and I always carried my Bible. Always. Even though my life was the way it was, I knew God was there if I needed Him. I'd pull out my Bible and hug it when I went to sleep. Like it was my stuffed animal. It was the only thing that brought me comfort.
I could go on and on with disgusting stories of perversion and abuse. As an adult now, the thing that affects me more than anything is shame. The abuse altered how I see myself. I also suffer from horrible insomnia... If I fall into a deep sleep, how will I be able to protect myself? I am always in flight mode. I keep to myself and stay away from people and when possible. Never make eye contact... If they knew what I was, what was crowds done to me, they would not want anything to do with me.
About a year ago God woke me up in the middle of the night and began to speak to me. He was telling me that He brought me out to send me back in. And He had a message for the "Hagar's"- the women who, and like me, had been mistreated, used, abused, overlooked. His message to them, His message to you is this:
God sees you.
I know that sounds so simple; it is, but it's also so complex. It's not just that He sees you, but it's that He saw what they did to you. It's that kind of He sees you. He didn't abandon you. He never forgot about you. He didn't close His eyes to you when they were hurting you. He was there with you - He never left you.
You need to know that God is for you. Even if you're all alone and have no one else in the entire world that is for you, God is for you. He is your number-one fan. He's always standing with you, rooting you on. Think of the crazy fan at a football game with the #1 foam finger shouting from the stadium. That's how God is for you. He wants you to be happy more than you want it for yourself.
Growing up I never realized that. I never thought He was for me, or that He even remembered me. I felt less than. Cast off, rejected by everyone. Even my own dad abandoned me. I felt that I was never good enough; like my only purpose was to service men.
I know no one cared for me because I think about this one particular night when I was 14. I had drunk a lot, and was passed out before the party even began. I knew how these people could be, so I went into a room and laid in front of the door so no one could get in and get to me. But I was wrong. All I know is the next morning when I woke up my clothes were off, there was blood on the wall, and my face was all busted up. I knew. They got to me. I had a few memories of trying to scream, but that was all. I asked a friend what happened, and she said there were men - plural- that went in my room and other men guarding the door. She could hear me screaming. They took turns with me. To this day I have no idea what happened or how many men raped me, a 14-year-old unconscious child. I wish I could tell you that this night was the only time this type of stuff happened, but it wasn't.
The theme in my life became 'no one cares. Not my friend's mom, not the johns, not the men that called on us for their parties. I should have been able to play freely with my friends and toys. But instead I was worrying about what they did to me and made me do to them; I was being shamed into not telling anyone with threats that they'd hurt me, or that no one would believe me, or I'd ruin my entire family. That's a burden a little girl shouldn't have to carry. When I tried to kill myself, God always intervened. They'd shock my heart and bring me back to life. He never let me die. He never left me.
God brought me out of that lifestyle to tell someone that He sees them. We've been made to feel shame and to keep quiet and just to deal silently with what they did to us. No one wants to talk about it because it makes people uncomfortable, and they don't know how to deal with it. But God's heart is broken for His daughters and what has been done to them. He has a burning desire to let them know that He sees them. He is El Roi- The God who sees you.
I did some research and found that 1 in 6 women have been abused. Statistically, women who experienced some type of abuse growing up will have an increased risk of addiction. One statistic said that 75% of women facing addiction had some form of trauma. Some people are going to be offended that I talked about this; how dare I. But some people are sitting there and God's dealing with your heart right now. He wants to set you free from the shame and the hurt. You don't have to stuff the pain away. You don't have to numb it with drugs and alcohol. He is the God of broken hearts and restoration.
You may be walking with the Lord and seemingly sold out and on fire for Him, but you still have that one part of your heart where it's closed up and off-limits to even God. Like the meatloaf song, 'I would do anything for love, but I won't do that. Lord, I will do anything for you, but I won't do that. You can have my entire life, but leave that door closed, please. That's off-limits; we just let it sit there. Does it even matter now since it was so long ago? God wants His daughters to know that He is "El Roi." He sees you. He knows you by name. You belong to Him. Abuse changes you. It alters your thoughts on life and how you see yourself and others. You become hypervigilant to protect yourself, but always being on the lookout is exhausting. Remember, you are not what they did to you. I never wanted to talk about my abuse, and honestly still don't. But I belong to God. You belong to God. Nothing can ever separate you from His love for you. That's something that the people who hurt you and failed you can never take from you. That is yours and yours alone.
You may not sense Him, you may not hear Him or see Him. But He is always near to you. He's ready and more than able to open that secret door of your heart and put those pieces back together. He says, "I never left you like you think I did. I've been here the whole time. I see you. You are loved and you belong to Me."
1 John 4:4. "You are from God, little children, and have overcome them; because greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world."
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