Last week I did an interview with a local news station about human trafficking. I did this in light of an extremely traumatic event that took place in my life in January of this year. I have taken a long time to talk about this incident because of the impact it had on my personal life. I realized, however, that this is now a part of my story, and my story needs to be told. When life hands you unsettling events, It is often because you are to use that opportunity to talk for those who do not have a voice. Because the interview is short, I decided to write this blog as to tell the full story.
This January I had the opportunity to travel to London and Paris for some missions work/sightseeing. I was so incredibly excited to go because my dearest friend, Tiffany was going, along with her parents (that I adore), and our missionary/evangelist friends Mark and Susie. Although we arrived first in London, all Tiffany and I could think about was our day trip to Paris the last day of our trip. We’d seen Paris our entire lives in such a romantic light, we even planned all our outfits around the day we went to Paris. We wanted to look extra special that day.
After we disembarked our high speed train to Paris, we were greeted with a group of women from a local church that were going to help us navigate the city. Our train let off on the top floor of a building that also housed an underground metro station. Europe is built up and around so many historic buildings and monuments that the infrastructure we are so used to in America, with roads and parking garages, is virtually inexistent. Because of this it is common, and expected, that we will do most of our traveling and touring via the subway system. I have traveled in several subway systems in Europe, but without question, the Paris system is the hardest to navigate with many tiny halls, and SO MANY PEOPLE. (Paris is much bigger population wise than I ever imagined) As we descended the escalators into the metro station, a tall, dark headed, Albanian man tried to say something to Tiffany. When she replied back in English, it was clear that, not only did we not speak french, but we were American. He continually looked back in our direction, winking and making nonverbal flirtations. This is very typical, European male, so you don’t really think a lot about that type of thing. We struggled to keep up with our guides through the maze of halls, and when we got to our first train, he got on the same car with us.
What followed is almost completely a blur to me because I went into something of a state of shock. I am so thankful for my friends recounting the events to me following the event. What I can testify to, however, is the feeling that I had. I have never been more terrified, or scared in my entire life. And this fear is like nothing I have ever felt. Not like a fear of heights or airplanes, but a full on dread, as if something almost demonic were going on in the situation.
Each subway had probably six or seven cars, and each train made up to 15 stops. It is highly unlikely for someone to get in the same car with you, then follow you around to your next train. When we got off the first train after our stops, the young man got off with us. We went through another maze to get to our next train and that is when Tiffany’s mother, Edie, noticed that the young man had gotten on that train as well…and he had gathered a friend. They stared at us with dead stare like they were hunting their next victims for another 10 stops or so. The subways are so packed that often we would have to split up the group to make room. it was very easy to get separated from one another, or to miss your stop. When they got off with us, they met up with a third Albanian man and followed us to our last stop.
It is difficult to describe how hard it is to keep up with a group moving fast through a Paris Subway station, but imagine trying to walk down the stairs at a major league sporting event AFTER the game is over. It is nearly impossible, yet they had set their mark and got on our third subway car. At this point these young men were making absolutely no attempt to hide their glares. This car was much less crowded than the other two. At this point my heart is racing, we are both tearing up, and I get the most nauseous feeling in my stomach, as if I am going to get sick. The adults formed a circle around us and began to pray. Tiffany’s mom looked at the young men and screamed “NO!” I truly believe we were fighting a spiritual battle in that moment, because they got off at the next stop.
When we got out of the subway, neither Tiffany or I wanted to stay in Paris, we begged to go back to London. I had to stop when we finally got off the street because I thought I was going to be sick. We met up with a local pastor later that day and asked him about what happened. He said that we had come face to face with a sex trafficking ring, that this happens all the time in Paris. We were targeted because of being American, how we dressed and did our makeup, and because Tiffany was blonde. Europeans are not targeted nearly as much because American’s bring a higher price. The justice system is very perverted because of the money involved in the human trafficking business, with many government officials even being involved. The young men also change hands with other men quickly, many times before they even get the women out of the station, so tracing the victim to the captor is near impossible.
There is one person brought into sex trafficking in the world every 30 seconds. There are more slaves on earth at this time than any other time in human history! I truly believe that human trafficking is the 21st century holocaust and I want to tell my story and share with the world that I am “in it to end it.”
I have been so incredibly moved by the work and ministry of Christine Caine and the A21 campaign. They are bringing these captors to justice and rehabilitating the young women who have been thrown into, what Tiffany described as, “A fate worse than death.” I have made the decision to become as involved in this fight as I can. I encourage you to be aware of what is going on in our world, fight back, lift up the plight of the voiceless in prayer, and join me. Human trafficking stops here. It stops here because that easily could have been my best and myself.
In closing, I’d like to end on a humorous note. My parents took both my sister and myself to watch the movie Taken when it was released a few years ago. We were both traveling overseas without them and they wanted us to be aware of what goes on. Of course, at the time, it just seemed like a Hollywood movie, and I never thought something like that could happen to me. This was so close to the experience that Tiffany and I had, it still gives me chills. Two girls travel to Paris and are greeted at the airport by a handsome Albanian man named, Peter. Peter shares a cab with the girls, gets their address, then proceeds to bring men back to abduct the girls.
When I got off the plane in London, I had a text from my dad reading, “Don’t get in the car with Peter.” He proceeded to tell me if something happened he would try to get me, but he didn’t have the same set of skills Liam Neisen had in that movie. Touche Dad, Touche. Luckily… we didn’t get in the car with Peter, and because of that…we are telling our story.
The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary,
they have divine power to demolish strongholds.
We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God,
and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.
2 Corinthians 10:4-5
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