The First Protest

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An Open Letter

Ladies and Gentlemen, I must begin by addressing you separately. Men of the world, I ask you to close your eyes, and picture the woman you cherish most. Wife, mother, sister, daughter, girlfriend, friend, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you love her. Now imagine, through promises of a better life she is tricked, or just snatched off the street, into enforced confinement in a country she doesn’t know with a language she does not speak. She is raped, forced to stand naked before prying eyes and sold to the highest bidder. This pimp will likely rape her again, confine her to an apartment with other women he bought, and force her to have sex with 10, 20, even 30 men a night. Not one man will offer her help, they will only rape her. How does this make you feel?

Women, I did not ask you to participate in this exercise because you don’t have to picture someone else. You know it could happen to you if you grew up in one of these disadvantaged nations. The wretched truth is that this is happening world wide. Tricked and kidnapped out of the disadvantaged nations of the world and trafficked to those of affluence, these women are subjected to unimaginable cruelty and inhumanity. Bought by heartless men (and occasionally women) for a few thousand dollars, these unfortunate souls often earn their tormentors their price in less than a week, making $75-250 000 a year. They are used and abused until they are too malnourished or riddled with disease to make money. Then they are thrown to the street. World wide, illicit human trafficking brings in 32 billion dollars a year: 10 billion from the initial sale, 12 billion of the remainder from prostitution.

In his heart-rending book, The Natashas, Victor Malarek tells the story of these women. He tells us that this monstrosity is fuelled by sex tourists from nations such as the U.S.A. and Canada. He also shares some hope with the stories of several, “Daring Souls,” who take human trafficking head on, caring not for their own safety, but only for the well being of the tortured women they fight for. We must take on the role of Daring Souls, and fight this abomination against humanity. We must venture into the night, “when the powers of evil are exalted.” Into the seedy back roads, brothels and apartment blocks we will charge, bringing light where there is darkness, hope where there is only fear. At least 800 000 people are trafficked internationally every year, the majority forced into the sex trade. This number ignores the unknown millions who are trafficked internally every year. How long will we stand by unmoved? I say, not one moment more!

My country is not immune to this plague. There are forces in my country whose aims are contrary to my own, and would not take kindly to my attempt to lead this crusade against prostitution. They do not want me to tell you that many, if not most women are forced into the sex trade, and that those who do choose freely do so not knowing the sadistic mistreatment which awaits them. But I don’t care. This is war, and in war you must take some risks. I may be gifted with eloquence of the written word, but soon it will be my boots kicking down the doors which keep innocent women in bondage. Until then, I must organize the fight through the Internet. So please, join me, and we will all shout into the night that the time oppression is at an end!