How did I get here?

The New England Faith and Justice Summit on Human Trafficking took place last Saturday. Hundreds of passionate abolitionists came together to learn, discuss, and move forward in ending modern-day slavery. I sat in the audience as Jasmine Marino, trafficking survivor and founder of Bags of Hope, shared her story (she's also shared it twice at the United Nations). Then, Peter DiMarzio, Victim Assistant Specialist for the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, shared a keynote called "Its Happening HERE," all about the rampant trafficking activity in New England. And then, Bill Legere, founder of the Foundation for Hope and Grace (among many other incredible, admirable titles), spoke about how he was personally drawn to working in this movement.

Then, one of the event coordinators took the stage and asked "is Kim LaCroix in the audience?"

It was my turn. With no impressive title to my name, it was my chance to take the stage and, let me tell you, at this point in the morning I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. What place did I have in sharing the stage with these people? It felt utterly obvious that almost every member of the audience had more to contribute to the conversation that I did. 

I did manage to make my way to the stage, binder in hand with my speech about ArtSpeak- the yearly event that brings together art and social justice- and I only had to pause once for my own tears. It was as I shared this story:

My favorite ArtSpeak moment is one that Highrock pastor Brynn Harrington has shared about the 2014 event: That evening, we had the opportunity to hear from three survivors of commercial exploitation- women had been rescued and were were living at the Amirah House that Fall. During the concert, they shared poetry they had written about their experiences. It was incredible. What Brynn was taken aback by though was that, without realizing it, she had interacted with them during the set-up for the event. She thought they were staff from the Amirah House, not residents. They were so much like her. Like you and me. And then, seeing them take the stage, she realized her assumption. It can’t be people like you and me who are subjected to human trafficking. Can it? 

The reality of this crisis is not easy to stomach. These ARE people like you and me. They are children like our children. But, rather than stopping, paralyzed, heartbroken, and wide-eyed by the statistics and stories of human trafficking in our world today, we can choose to be propelled forward with hearts and hands ready to contribute to the battle against human trafficking. 

It was a powerful morning and, needless to say, a humbling one too.