I Had Been A Sex Slave
I was twenty-five years old the first time I came across the term “sex slavery.” Scrolling through my Facebook feed, my eyes caught upon an article claiming to tell the harsh truths of human trafficking. Nearly immediately I was struck with the shocking definition. Sex slavery: the act of forcing or manipulating another person to have sex for the monetary gain of someone else. While this differs slightly from how the federal government officially defines sex trafficking, that simple definition turned my world upside down and started me on an incredible, emotional, and sometimes very frustrating journey of discovering one of the hardest truths of my life.
I had been a sex slave.
Sitting in front of my computer that day, I finally had something to call it—I had a name for the belittling and traumatizing experiences that caused me so much pain and inner turmoil even then, when it was all over. In one mindless moment of scrolling through social media, my life changed and I began to see myself as a victim of sex trafficking.
Still stunned, I immediately called the organization referenced in the article and offered to volunteer for them. While I didn’t understand exactly what had happened to me, the terrorizing memories prompted me to do anything I could to prevent another person from those experiences. I began to speak with a volunteer, and as he asked me basic questions about my interest in the organization, I unexpectedly started to cry and suddenly all the experiences I had kept locked in the back corners of my mind came tumbling out to a stranger. The man on the other end of the line didn’t say much; he just listened patiently and allowed me to ramble on. It was the first time I had ever told anyone about what had happened to me as a teenager.
Toward the end of the conversation, I did something that I later learned was common among victims of trafficking and assault: I questioned if I was really the victim, or if I was the one to blame. Was it because I was not wearing the right clothes or because I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been? I rationalized out loud, saying, “I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t a victim . . . I didn’t run and I didn’t fight. I should have fought or said no or done something.” I continued down this train of thought, processing the conflicting feelings I
was having. I told him, “Well, I was only sixteen and he was a grown man. But I thought I was grown at that time . . . .”
Now the man from the anti-trafficking organization interrupted me and said something that would have a profound impact on the rest of my life: “Hon, I don’t know you or your story, but I do know that there was no way that any of that was your fault.”
Savannah Sanders is a leading advocate in the prevention of child sex trafficking. A survivor of hardships, abuse, and trafficking, Savannah is now living a full life as a victim's advocate, wife, and mother of four. She is currently pursuing a master's degree in social work and is working with the Sandra Day O’Connor Institute as Training Coordinator for the SAFE (Safeguarding Adolescents From Exploitation) Action Project. Sanders shares her story and speaks regularly to groups across the United States on anti-trafficking efforts and ways to support victims.
