Sex Trafficking in Cambodia

Quester Lauren Ebright recently returned from a soul changing journey to Cambodia.  A hair stylist by trade, Lauren and her salon are working to establish a partnership training folks in Cambodia to be hairdressers, a sustainable means of supporting themselves and their families. Read Lauren's words below, catch her and her husband Ian at the 11 am service, and say hello.

Find the original posting and pictures on the blog here: http://brokentelegraph.com/2009/06/09/inside-cambodia-part-i-prostitution/#more-1739

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---Inside Cambodia PART I: Life After Prostitution
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Photo Credit: aim4asia.com

by Guest Contributor Lauren Ebright

This past May I embarked on my first trip to Phnom Penh, Cambodia with my boss and friend Matthew Fairfax. Matthew owns James Alan Salon- the neighborhood salon I work at as a hairdresser in Shoreline, Washington. About eight months ago an idea was hatched. Matthew had a dream of starting the James Alan Salon Foundation to benefit our local area; he had no idea at the time how far the dream would reach. Through an amazing client of ours Matthew came to know of the desperate reality of human trafficking (primarily for the sex industry) in Cambodia. Separately, I had already began researching more ways I could get involved in combating the very same issue, coincidentally in the very same country. One beautiful day in October our minds came together and we set into motion what would become the Justice and Soul Project. Our goal is to create a hairdressing program for rescued women that are close to being ready to re-enter society after a life of sexual slavery. Slavery can come in many forms, the first is obvious; another form is born out of hopeless economic conditions. We want to give them a skill, a trade that can help support them in a country that is unwilling to. We had no idea what was ahead of us. We took a leap on May 12th and some fourteen hours later touched down in the Kingdom of Cambodia.

I have two very defined, very sobering memories in my mind. One of them is the day I visited Andong village, a community of people the government kicked off their own land for one reason or another- none of which were just. And the other is visiting an organization called AFESIP (french acronym for Acting for Women in Distressing Situations). In the U.S. the organization is known as the Somaly Mam Foundation- named after its founder; activist and former trafficked woman, Somaly Mam. The hours I spent at AFESIP's Tom Dy Center was the turning point of my trip . Everything I thought I knew about the issue of human trafficking and sexual exploitation hinges on that visit.

The Tom Dy Center is located about twenty minutes outside of Phnom Penh proper, in a quiet, rural setting surrounded by rice fields. The center itself was named after one of the first girls to be rescued by Somaly Mam. Tom Dy was also one of the first girls rescued to die of HIV- though not the last. If you stand in the courtyard at the shelter and take in your surroundings you will see modest, clean rooms for learning, eating, and sleeping, carefully tended gardens (which the girls themselves see to) and a long, red dirt road. The only ominous presence is the huge gated doors at the entrance of the center- a reminder of the day when violent traffickers stormed the center demanding their "property" back.

AFESIP has two vocational programs: sewing and hairdressing. Our guide Joleene, a 25 year-old writer from Tacoma, WA (of all places!) took us into the sewing classroom where about twelve girls were working on their latest creations. The minute Matthew, Mark (our friend and in-country contact) and I walked in all the girls stood at attention with huge smiles, traditional bows and "hello's". One girl in particular, a skinny, smooth-skinned girl with a wide child-like smile waved at us from across the room- seemingly eager to have our attention. I waved back at her, laughing slightly at how sweet she seemed. Joleene leaned into me and told me the girl's name (which for the sake of her anonymity I will not mention) and that she's been happily living at Tom Dy for about a year. I smiled to myself thinking how nice that was- still oddly removed from why these girls were here. SubconsciouslyI thought it was some sort of boarding school. I knew literally it wasn't. I knew, rationally, that I was at a shelter for rescued girls. But until I was faced with the faces of these girls I still held a strange belief that this kind of abuse wasn't happening to real people. My perspective would change very permanently as Joleene continued, telling me this girl's story. She had been sold by her very own mother at seven years old, rescued at some point only to go on to being re-sold by her mother again. This beautiful, tangible girl in front of me was currently twelve years old- going on thirteen perhaps and was most definitely already HIV positive. I am being honest when I say the room began to spin. My peripheral vision melted away and all I could see was this twelve year old girl bent happily over her sewing machine, so content to finally be safe. I questioned her future- if HIV is a life sentence here in the U.S., even with our expensive drugs- what does it mean for a child in Cambodia?

We left the sewing room, our minds already unwraveling, and made our way down the red dirt road to the center's small hair salon. There were about ten young women at work on one another- manicures, pedicures, some pretty elaborate updo's. It was said to me a number of times on my trip that Cambodian women could teach us American stylists a thing or two about up do's and I will tell you honestly, that is correct. They can throw down.

While Matthew talked with the instructor about the important business of teaching and inventory, I shared my thoughts with Joleene. I asked her questions about the girls. What's the age range? How does AFESIP obtain the girls? Do you find that most parents know they're selling their daughters? Or are they mislead? I felt like I had so many questions and that after each one I asked I kept hearing in my mind "Why?" Why, Why, Why?

I found out that the girls can be anywhere from five years old to their early 20's. I found out that all AFESIP can do is create a reputation, make themselves known in the community so that girls can find the shelters. And as far as parents selling their daughters I discovered one small victory. The majority of parents do not intentionally sell their daughters into sexual slavery. A majority of parents are mislead into thinking their daughters are being taken to the city to be employed in legitimate work (albeit sweatshop conditions). Yet some parents know exactly what fate they are choosing for their daughters. This truth will always be a mystery to me.

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Tom Dy 1
Inside the Tom Dy sewing room. Photo Credit: Lauren Ebright

I thought out loud about the government's ambivalence, about the poverty I had seen at Andong village: about the steel trap of injustice this country seemed to be ensnared in. All the while I was aware of the girl's eyes on me... of their visible discomfort with Matthew and Mark. Some of them recoiling unto themselves as if to put up a physical shield. Other girls were instinctively posing for them- only knowing that when men are around you need to become a sexual object ready to be purchased. Either stance was equally devastating to witness.

As we left the salon the girls were waving goodbye- some more interested than others- and I caught eyes with one girl crouched down on her haunches with a beautiful smile. I didn't know her story (but I knew it wasn't good) and I didn't know her name but she looked me in the eyes and I could see that she didn't want me to leave. I stopped walking and we stared at one another. A teenage Cambodian girl and a twenty something American girl. Both of us women, both of us wanting the same hope, love and freedom in life. I knew that she wanted to be me; maybe not specifically Lauren but to be the one who gets to leave this place. Her eyes seemed to tell me that she wanted to be the girl who wasn't there because she needed to be rescued.

I walked back down the red dirt road with tears streaming down my cheeks. I wasn't crying because I had suddenly found the perfect dramatic moment to indulge my humanitarian side in. I was crying because I finally realized it wasn't about that. My desire to help this situation isn't glamorous- it doesn't make me feel like Brangelina. Not anymore anyway. In the beginning it was kind of exciting- this concept of international social work, of being an "NGO". That was before I traveled to Cambodia. It was before I met a thirteen year old who had her eye gouged out by her mama-san one night because she didn't want to "work" (i.e. get raped in every way). Now I am devastated. I am justly angry. I am humbled by these girl's spirit to go on, to create the best life they can. I am speechless. Because I know with confidence I will never sell my daughter; but these daughters were sold.. And what is the difference? Show me what the difference is between my daughter and these girls.

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