14
Mar
read more of Glenn Miles's blog
Cycles of Degradation Posted by Glenn Miles

Some of my friends and colleagues here in the anti trafficking community in Phnom Penh spend our Friday evenings going into the red light areas of the city. We’re looking to talk to men, to understand why they are there, and if possible, offer an alternative conversation to what they may have with patrons and peers in the bars. We meet up to check in before and afterwards for our own protection and accountability. On a recent Friday, we went out on our usual jaunt... Some nights there seem to be a 'theme' when talking to the men in the red light district. This particular night the focus was on how prostitutes were liars and cheaters.

A tall young good looking guy full of energy passed us several times After he passed us the third time in the street (each time we had said hi!) he came back and asked if we were the self proclaimed greeters for that particular street! We laughed but it opened up the conversation. He said that he 'had to leave in a hurry... ' but he still stayed and talked to us for about 45 minutes.

It became apparent very quickly that his heart had been broken by a young prostitute and he was furious. Unlike many men that visit this area, this man knew what was going on. He had got to many of the girls and heard their stories but everything had become filtered through the hate of being jilted.  He had been paying her to be monogamous to him but she had cheated on him and he could only feel the pain and not the reason why she might do it. It illustrated just how much pain can be found in a red light area. Two people desperate for intimacy and love and neither finding it. He was seeing himself as the victim and was angry with us because he felt that we were only seeing the young women as victims. 

But the reality is that in this situation everyone is a victim.  The client is a victim because he believed the lies that pornography taught him that sex = love and love can be bought. The girl is a victim because she was first raped in a brothel by a foreigner when she was 16 years and now sees no other future. Why should she be 'faithful' to him when she herself had been betrayed by men before who hinted at the promise of the possibility of a life free of poverty?  In order to survive she says so many lies she must sometimes wonder what is real anymore. Her family were victims because they felt the only way out of poverty was to allow her to become a prostitute. Cambodia itself is a victim because it is increasingly becoming the focus for sex tourism and as the garment industry shrinks in the global economic recession the local sex industry grows.

As abolitionists, we are seeking to expand our perspective and attune our posture towards perpetrators, exploiters, “good guys and bad guys,” as well as victims. It's obvious to us that women are degraded in these situations, but the uncomfortable truth is that men are degraded as well. We work to break cycles of degradation - this is a holistic approach. When I go out to have these conversations, I choose to treat men with dignity, believing that they can change and themselves show dignity others.

16
Jan
read more of Rob Morris's blog
Why? Posted by Rob Morris

I’ll never forget the first time that my youngest son recognized that I was a different color than him. He was about 5 years old. We were sitting on the couch cuddled together with our arms all tangled up. His beautiful brown arm and my very white arm looking like a half baked pretzel. He was just staring at our arms, and I could tell he was thinking really hard.

Finally he looked up at me with complete sincerity, and with sympathy said; “Dad…you’re REALLY white”. He felt sorry for me. It was both a very funny moment and a beautiful one. He was completely innocent, untouched by any kind of prejudice. We have obviously had many great discussions since then. Being a multi-racial family affords natural opportunities all the time.

 

Years later, I remember coming home one day to find my son sitting on the floor looking through one of our photo books on the life of Martin Luther King Jr. The book was sitting on his lap open to the photos of the Birmingham riots. He sat staring at the infamous photo of people being blasted with fire hoses and attacked by police dogs because of the color of their skin. When I walked in, he looked up at me with the most heartbreaking, quizzical look of confusion. His eyes pleading for an answer…”Why?” His look just about brought me to my knees.

 

How do you explain hatred and violence to a child, when it doesn’t make any sense to begin with? Just try explaining it, and you’ll find out how the explanations begin to sound as lame and insane as the actual acts and attitudes you’re attempting to unravel.

 

In our work with Love146 the question of “Why?’ rages daily. Why do people prey upon the most vulnerable and innocent among us? Why are we not doing more to stop the exploitation of children?  Why do we often remain bystanders while so many suffer? 


I wonder if the answer to the “why” questions has to do with love.

 

In the movie, Midnight in Paris, the character that plays Ernest Hemingway says; “All cowardice comes from not loving…or not loving well, which is the same thing.” Poet Elizabeth Alexander wrote: “What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.”

 

No doubt that these are extreme times. What we desperately need are extremists. Not right wing or left wing extremists. Not religious or political extremists. But the kind of extremist that Martin Luther King Jr. wrote about from that small jail cell in Birmingham; “So the question is not whether we will be extremist but what kind of extremist will we be. Will we be extremists for hate or will we be extremists for love?”

I hope we choose love. For my children, and all children’s sake. Even for our own sake.

 

Rob

President & Co-founder, Love146
Follow me on Twitter HERE

17
Jun
read more of Ben Hart's blog
A Father's Conversion Posted by Ben Hart

 

"When was your conversion moment"?  

 

We tend to ask that question a lot around the Love146 office.  It basically means, "What happened that caused you to really get engaged with the issue of child sex trafficking?" I know "conversion" can be controversial language, but it seems to be the only word that can best describe what happens. It's that point at which you are rocked & changed  by the knowledge that kids are being sold for sex.     

Some conversion moments are very dramatic (see description: Rob Morris).  Most are not.  

Most of us simply find some some point of resonance as humans with these stories of slavery and trafficking and are just compelled to do something.  

 

THIS IS MY CONVERSION MOMENT:

I have been in the non-profit world for most of my life.  My parents run a small non-profit that they started when I was 3.  They did most of their work in the poorest areas of Mexico. I would spend months between suburban Colorado and Juarez Mexico.  When you spend that kind of time in poor areas you run into about every problem this world has to offer, including sex-trafficking. We would periodically run into kids, often in orphanages, who had been sold for sex in their towns.  Many times by their own family.  

 

This type of childhood carries with it a certain amount of desensitization.  It is hard to rock me.  I'm not saying that I'm off to OZ to ask for a heart… I cry sometimes… and stuff.  What my childhood has given me is a consistent drive to want to do social good in this world, but it has taken from me the ability to be as easily emotionally shaken by injustice. A trait that I think is valuable in this world.  

So when I first started with Love146 in 2007, I didn't have this amazing initial conversion moment. My heart was moved by the issue, but I really just found a group of people that wanted to change a social injustice in the same way that I would want to change it. They were of the same cloth as me.. the same tribe.  But I'm not sure that I wanted to be an "abolitionist".  I just wanted to help.  

 

My wife and I had our first baby girl in 2008,  Stella.  From day one she had my heart.  She is my beautiful little lady nerd, and I would totally punch people for her....if that's what she wanted. 

 

Having a kid is that crazy mixture of insane love and insane terror.  Terror that some type of harm could befall this perfect creature and that you might not be able to do anything about it.  Even the smallest of her hurts can feel crushing.  

 

 

In early 2009 my wife and I were watching the news and a story came on about a horrific rape that happened in New Haven CT, the town where we were currently living.   The victim was a young woman that worked as a waitress in a restaurant.  A restaurant that was actually two doors down from the Love146 office. 

The details emerged that late one night, after work, this young woman had offered to give a ride to one of her co-workers.  On the way to his house he beat her in the car and took her to a local park.  There, he raped her and tried to kill her.  The details were hard to hear.  The young woman survived by playing dead and then crawled a 1/2 mile to a nearby home.  The story garnered some national attention, and thankfully they caught the perpetrator some time later.  

 

Around the time the news hit, my sink broke. 

And for the longest time I couldn't get a hold of our landlords to come and fix it.  

 

Our landlords were a sweet couple, probably in their sixties.   The husband Jon (not his real name) was a kind, quiet man, who always came promptly when we needed him, and was always incredibly helpful.  

Two weeks later, Jon got back to me and came to fix our sink.  

As usual, Jon quietly fixed our sink and then packed up his tools.  He had the door open to leave when he slowly turned around to me and said, "Ben, What do you do again?".  I always feel like a bit of downer when I answer this question, so I just quickly reminded him that I worked for an organization that tries to stop child sex trafficking.  

He stood quiet for a moment, thinking.  

Then he said,

"I wasn't going to say anything, but did you hear about that girl on the news….   the girl who was raped?"   

 

"Yes"  I say.  

 

"Well……………         

 

That was my daughter".  

 


Conversion Moment 

 

 

I will never forget the look in that man's eyes.  Never.  Behind the choked back tears was a pain that I am not foolish or arrogant enough to believe I understood.  But there was something in it that I recognized.  It was a Father's pain, but on a level that rocked the hell out of me.  

I don't really remember what happened after that.  I think I offered up some shell shocked condolences and offered "to help".  Ugh.  

What I do remember is how long I held my daughter that night, and I remember the next day I went to work.   I think it was the first day that I really felt that burning resolve to do whatever it took to keep others from that type of pain.  That was the day I probably started my abolition journey.  

That may all sound dramatic, but it really wasn't.  It really was just a simple moment of resonance with another human being.  I recognized a pain this man was feeling, but it was on a scale I didn't think could exist. And it changed me.  

That is what a movement is about. A movement is about the small conversion moments; those simple points of resonance with our fellow humans, building over time, into something that turns the tide of history.  

For Fathers, Sunday is a good day to find these moments.  And I hope you do.  Because we need your stories next to ours.  

 

Happy Father's day.  

 

Ben Hart

Father & Abolitionist 

 

  

16
Jun
read more of Rob Morris's blog
I was almost a bomb shelter Posted by Rob Morris

“Hopelessness is not the opposite of hope. Fear is.”- Margaret Wheatley

 

The fall of 1961 was marked by turbulent times in the U.S. The entire nation was gripped with fear. President Kennedy was advising American families to build bomb shelters to protect them from atomic fallout in the event of a nuclear exchange with the Soviet Union. A year later, the world was on the brink of full-scale nuclear war during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

 

It was during this time that my parents found themselves having to make one of the toughest decisions of their lives. They were strongly considering having a second child but were afraid of bringing a child into the world, which seemed to be going crazy. They have told the story of how, with limited income, they literally came down to deciding between spending the money on building a bomb shelter or having a baby. Having to choose between fear…and hope. I am thankful they chose hope. The baby they ended up bringing into the unstable and chaotic world, exactly 49 years ago today… turned out to be me.

 

I think all of us who wrestle with the brokenness, beauty and mess of the world we live in, face the constant tension of giving into fear and hopelessness, or love and hope. Rebecca Solnit writes; “To hope is to gamble. It’s to bet on the future, on your desires, on the possibility that an open heart and uncertainty are better than gloom and safety. To hope is dangerous, and yet it is the opposite of fear, for to live is to risk.”

 

So, if given the choice of whether to give in to fear or to give in to hope…Give in to hope. You never know what you might give “birth” to.

 

Rob

President & Co-Founder, Love146

Follow me on Twitter HERE

08
Jan
read more of Gaz Kishere's blog
Trek Update: Nuremberg, Germany Posted by Gaz Kishere

Europe in some ways is like driving through American states; road trips are no big thing, the exception here being that each state or country has a language and culture all of its own determined by how much the place’s people have been shaped by either consumerism or communism.


04
Jan
read more of Glenn Miles's blog
Hopefulness Posted by Glenn Miles

When Siobhan and I first lived in Cambodia there was an ice-cream factory just down the road from the slum where we were living. On one of the outside walls there was a painting of eight different types of ice-cream. When it is hot in Cambodia it gets really hot, so going past those pictures every day got you hungry to try them. Outside of the factory in the shops all we seemed to be able to buy were only two of the types of the ice-creams displayed so one day we spontaneously went to the factory itself to ask to try the other ones. The factory manager we met gave an embarrassed laugh and said that they hadn’t been developed yet but that we could try one of the two types they had…

31
Dec
read more of Rob Morris's blog
Scrambling for words Posted by Rob Morris

Have you ever had one of those moments when you wanted to say thank you, but the words just seemed so lame in expressing the gratitude you felt? This is one of those times. I’m scrambling for the right words here.

23
Dec
read more of Anonymous's blog
Jolly Old Saint Nick Posted by Anonymous

It’s impossible to not think of Santa this time of year. My son and I watched Elf the other day when he was sick and he has been asking me to sing, “Santa Clause is Coming to Town.” I thought after close to 30 years of Santa I knew everything there was to know about the jolly man form the North Pole that flies on a sleigh with reindeer and presents for all the children in the world. This year I learned something new about him!

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