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At 22, I was a young mother aging out of the foster care system — a place where I had already endured the trauma of being trafficked. Leaving foster care already felt like being cast into a void, armed with nothing but a black trash bag and unprepared for the world outside. The only way I knew how to survive was to remain in the environment that had entrapped me in the first place.
It wasn’t long before I was arrested for engaging in commercial sex. Even though it was my first offense, I was charged with leading a prostitution ring, a felony, before the charge was dropped to a petty misdemeanor. The eventual outcome left me with probation and fines I could not afford.
The criminal justice system, which is supposed to protect, instead became another barrier to my survival. My inability to pay the fines led to a court order requiring me to attend a community organization dedicated to helping survivors of trafficking. I complied with every requirement and left “the life” behind. Yet, instead of finding relief, my struggles multiplied.
Securing stable housing was impossible. I first sought refuge at shelters, but I was rejected and labeled as a “risk” due to my criminal record and past life. I then sought private housing, but many landlords refused to rent to me. Others preyed on my vulnerabilities by making unwanted sexual advances or inflating rent prices. These continued barriers compounded the trauma I had already endured, further revealing the systemic failures that women of color, especially those who have survived trafficking, face daily.
Employment opportunities were equally challenging. The stigma attached to my record made it difficult to secure work. I could only obtain short-term contract positions, which allowed me to avoid the pain of explaining my past. However, this work was insufficient to meet my basic needs, forcing me to live in a constant state of financial instability. The lack of stable employment hindered my ability to secure housing and perpetuated the cycle of poverty and underscored the broader systemic failures that trap so many survivors of trafficking and foster care.
The criminal justice system, far from being a source of support, became a tool of oppression. I was desperate for help but met with silence. The most harrowing experience was when I was sexually assaulted by a professional athlete. The investigator assigned to my case exploited my past, falsely correlating my previous involvement in commercial sex to the assault. My rape kit vanished, leaving a police report that distorts the truth and no trust in the justice system.
