THE SLAVE ACROSS THE STREET The True Story of How an American Teen Survived the World of Human Trafficking Theresa L. Flores with PeggySue Wells Ampelon PUBLISHING Boise, Idaho www.ampelonpublishing.com Copyright ©2010 by Theresa Flores All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9823286-8-2 E-book ISBN: 978-0-9817705-0-5 Paperback version Printed in the United States of America Requests for information should be addressed to: Ampelon Publishing, PO Box 140675, Boise, ID 83714 Library of Congress Control Number: 2009941479 To order other Ampelon Publishing products, visit us on the web at: www.ampelonpublishing.com Cover photography & design: Jared Swafford — SwingFromTheRafters.com Praise for Theresa L. Flores and The Slave Across the Street “Flores puts a different kind of face on human trafficking in America. She is white, middle-class and blond and looks the epitome of a suburban American woman. She grew up in a wealthy suburb of Detroit in Michigan and did well at school. Yet Flores tells a nightmarish story …” –The London Guardian, NOV. 22, 2009 “[Theresa Flores] turned her 'hell' into help for other victims” –Catholic News Service, NOV. 16, 2009 “For 20 years, Theresa Flores kept a secret about the tortured life of her teen years” –The Today Show, NBC, FEBRUARY 2009 “I’ve just finished your book and I want to say thank you—thank you for the courage you brought to the writing, for the truth you spoke so unflinchingly, and for the hope that is your special gift to others. We hear too little from those who have borne slavery. Yet it is this lived experience, and the lessons that come from it, that is our best guide to ending slavery.” – Kevin Bales, Free the Slaves, President and Author of Disposable People “This is a note of many thanks for coming to Dallas recently and participating in the Women’s Symposium; I am still stopped on campus by people who were in attendance and who were deeply moved by your story in particular and by the panel in general.” panel in general.” – RICK HALPERIN, SOUTHERN METHODIST UNIVERSITY HUMAN RIGHTS EDUCATION PROGRAM, DIRECTOR “After reading Theresa Flores’ courageous book, I have come to understand how the pain of silence can cut a person off from a healthy life. Her honesty and courage has been an inspiration to me and my clientele. This book should be read by every therapist in America.” – JOHN J. GARY, MS, PCCS, NCC, PH.D., CLINICAL PSYCHOTHERAPIST “A St. Thomas Aquinas High School junior, the school’s representative for the Catholic Consortium, said Flores’ story had a big impact on her, especially the secrecy of it. ‘Her story made me shake in my seat.’” –The Catholic Exponent, JANUARY 22, 2009 Dedication To my amazing children — Samantha, Helena and Trey To God for giving me strength and to all the people being held in slavery around the world Table of Contents Acknowledgements A Note to the Reader Preface Introduction Chapter 1: They Don’t Know My Name Chapter 2: The Beginning Chapter 3: The Move Chapter 4: Adjusting Chapter 5: Different Kinds of Kids Chapter 6: A New Culture Chapter 7: Spring Semester Chapter 8: The Phone Call Chapter 9: Changed Forever Chapter 10: Manipulation Chapter 11: Cultural Rules Chapter 12: Terms of Indebtedness Chapter 13: Horror Returns Chapter 14: Calm Before the Storm Chapter 15: Submitting Chapter 16: Proposal Chapter 17: Watchful Eyes Chapter 18: Remembering My Place Chapter 19: Kidnapped Chapter 20: Not a Game Chapter 21: Home Life Chapter 22: Paying My Final Dues Chapter 23: Farewell Dinner Chapter 24: Freedom, But at the Price of Another Chapter 25: Betrayal Chapter 26: Escape Chapter 27: New Address Chapter 28: Getting Out Chapter 29: Marks, Lies, and Unawareness Chapter 30: Allen’s Story Chapter 31: When Running is No Longer an Option Chapter 32: Surviving Chapter 33: Answers Chapter 34: The Facts About Human Trafficking Chapter 35: Spirituality Saved My Life and Soul Chapter 36: My Spirituality Paved the Way Chapter 37: Seeking Help Chapter 38: Parent and Professional Section: What Can You Do? Chapter 39: Slavery in Any Era Chapter 40: How Could This Be? “My Definition: A Poem” “The Face of a Trafficking Victim” Epilogue References Notes Acknowledgements First and foremost, I want to honor my family, my three beautiful children for being by my side while I wrote this book. For putting up with my tirades, my emotional breakdowns, and my frustrations while I processed and healed by putting it down on paper. Without them, I would not have had the courage or strength to endure the re-occurring nightmares. Their love gave me hope to get through each day and see a better one the next. They gave me back my smile, my laughter, and a song. Secondly, I would like to thank my friends and co-workers who supported me while I tackled this seemingly impenetrable mountain. Feeling as if I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders all these years, only to find these precious friends who didn’t blink an eye when I told them my story. Thanks to Mike Bucy, the first person who allowed me to tell my full story. Thanks to Mike Bucy, the first person who allowed me to tell my full story. He listened, held me, and offered suggestions for what to do. Although it took years to find another accepting person to hear me, he paved the way for my healing on several different levels. It is only natural that he is employed in one of the caring professions. Natalie and Brandy were the first to hold my nightmare in their hands. And they still felt proud to know me. Their friendship empowered me to continue my journey until I had completed it. And to Melba, who ministered to me during the writing, helped me process my emotions and pain. She provided foresight to see the extent of my path, giving me strength to travel through the hard part until I could be cleansed again. This time without baths. Until I could smile again. Glow again. In God’s glory. Thanks to God and all His angels for allowing me to stand here today. Alive, healthy, no longer broken, and finally able to tell my story. To help others heal from their wounds. To stop this atrocity from ever happening to another child. My emotional journey this past year would not have been possible had it not been for the board of Gracehaven. This Christian shelter for domestic minor sex trafficking victims provides a tangible purpose, an outlet, to my mission. During the past year, while helping to develop the shelter and its programs, the board members prayed for me, provided a circle of protection while I shared my story publicly, and comforted me when I felt overwhelmed. Lastly, thanks to Free the Slaves, Sandy Shepard, Given Kachepa, The Salvation Army, the Central Ohio Coalition to Rescue and Restore, and the Collaborative Initiative Against Human Trafficking in Cleveland Ohio. To all the wonderful catholic nuns in Ohio (Mercy, Dominican, Humility of Mary, and Notre Dame) for their support and eagerness to combat this injustice head on. They listened, never judged or doubted, and covered me with a blanket of love and acceptance. Thanks to the Polaris Project, the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati, Prevent Child Abuse Ohio and to all the people in Ohio who helped me find my voice, who gave me the determination to finish this book and share my pain to educate others on modern day slavery. A Note to the Reader Trafficking in Persons: “The recruitment, transportation, transfer, harboring or receipt of person, by means of the threat or use of forces or other forms of coercion, of abduction, of fraud, of deception, or the abuse of power or of a position of vulnerability or of the giving or receiving of payments or benefits to achieve consent of a person having control over another person, for the purpose of exploitation.” having control over another person, for the purpose of exploitation.” Exploitation: “shall include, at a minimum, the exploitation of the prostitution of others or other forms of sexual exploitation” “The consent of a victim of trafficking in persons to the intended exploitation set forth above, shall be irrelevant where any of the means set forth in the above stated have been used” “The recruitment, transportation, transfer, harboring or receipt of a child for the purpose of exploitation shall be considered trafficking in persons even if this does not involve any of the means set forth in the above stated” – taken from United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime, 2000 Preface Lecturing across the United States over the past couple of years, I’ve told my story a hundred times. While it has been excruciatingly painful, my journey bore fruit in the awareness that my story brings to others. Whether speaking to five Midwestern Kiwanis men, a small room of retired Catholic nuns in Ohio, an auditorium full of eager and enthusiastic college students in California, Missouri, and Tennessee, or simply speaking privately and candidly to a television journalist who knew nothing of this topic, each time I began with the same question. “How many of you know about human trafficking?” A few hands go up. “Enough to write a paper on it or explain it to someone?” The hands drop. All but one or two. Time and time again. While it is disappointing and somewhat alarming that hundreds, even thousands of people know very little about this topic, it is uplifting and encouraging to educate others on human trafficking, how it looks, how it feels, and where it happens. I recently began a short conversation with another mom at a summer baseball game for our children. She casually asked, “What do you do?” “I lecture on human trafficking.” “You mean like in India?” Embracing the opportunity, the teachable moment, I gave this college educated woman, working in the school system, more than she bargained for in the middle of a baseball game. But I was glad for the chance to show her the importance of protecting her teen daughter. About six months after I put this story on paper and started lecturing on a regular basis, I quickly realized that I hadn’t fully described the small details, the regular basis, I quickly realized that I hadn’t fully described the small details, the circumstances around what happened and the recovery process. When I was originally compelled to write down what happened, it had been painful to dredge up old memories. I felt I was doing good to get it out on paper. My main objective at the time was to simply tell my story, to tell what happened to me so that parents could see how easily this could happen to an average kid from the suburbs. But each time I spoke, telling a small snippet lasting five minutes to an hour, of the traumatic two years that my story encompasses, the same questions arose over and over again. They needed to be answered. My desire is that when you close this book, it is not with a sense of horror or sadness for me, but with a clear understanding of how simply and easily this occurs. Right here in the United States. How trafficking seeped into our country. Into our communities. May this project imbue you with a passion to help the child that comes to their mind as they read the book. My desire is that you will share this with other parents. May this book provide hope that a survivor can heal and turn something horrific into a catalyst for good. As I began working on revisions for this manuscript, I asked my oldest brother to help me make this a more rounded story. After sharing the book with him, we talked about the previous taboo topic, the subject we had avoided for over two decades – those years in Detroit. At last we had permission to ask one another questions, and discover what each of us had endured unbeknownst to the other. Talking it through provided a different perspective and fresh insight that we hadn’t been crazy or imagined it all. It was validation. My brother’s contribution brings greater understanding to our family dynamics, my behavior during that time, as well as what my brother, unfortunately, encountered so the traffickers could ensure I remained in my position of indebtedness. I also wanted to include the perspective of the person I first successfully shared my story with in college. The first successful relationship I had that helped me heal and trust again. This healing was especially important from the further wounds of unknowing strangers, unbelievers that this could truly be ‘slavery,’ comments and opinions that I must have had an option, therefore it could not be slavery. I suppose I was seeking validation again. Embedded deep within our soul, rejection and shame are emotions that people with post traumatic syndrome disorder (PTSD) live with daily. I needed another person’s perspective on how this trauma changed me, the psychological and physical aftermath of what it did to me. Both internally and externally. I realize that this is a difficult subject for many to embrace, and that no amount of witnesses or perspectives I provide will convince some people that I had no other viable options in the circumstances. It is my greatest hope that people will understand the most important message in my story is the sexual exploitation of a child. The victim is a child. A child who feels there are no options. This is my story of a girl from the suburbs who was manipulated, coerced, and threatened into terrible things against her will, while others profited. Since speaking publicly, others have confessed similar, sad stories. It is not important for the nonbeliever to acknowledge the truth of what happened to me. What is important is that people become aware that this is happening in the United States, in cities, and in small towns. To kids of every color, every socioeconomic background, with two parents, or no parents. It is vital that people understand how simply this can happen to any child. Introduction This book took many years to write. The abuse lasted for two long years, a small fraction of time in relation to my forty-something years. Yet nightmares can last an eternity, affecting the psyche and soul. Years passed between being brave enough to write each chapter. I cracked open Pandora’s Box, only to slam it shut again each time. I was afraid to pry it open, exposing my deepest and darkest secrets, one at a time. I finally gained the spiritual strength I needed to peek in once more and confront my inner demons head on. This time for the sake of healing others. I completed the book as part of my healing. The trauma no longer holds me captive, as I was nearly 26 years ago. The growing question as I wrote the book was not the title, but what to name the traumatic experience. As humans, we like – require – a oneor two-word label that sums up everything we need to know about one’s personality, medical/mental condition, race/ethnicity, religion, education, and political views. I struggled to find this much needed label for what I had experienced. I couldn’t accurately finish the book without it. I needed to know the term for myself. After I escaped the heinous abuse, I miraculously resumed a normal teenage life. On the outside anyway. Hidden hundreds of miles from my abusers, I graduated high school and then went away to college. Sexuality and promiscuity surrounded college life, used as an expression of freedom and experimentation. My world spun out of control. I lacked the emotional strength and successful past experiences with saying no. Without this