I have always said if we survivors come forth and tell our story—reveal the truth of what happened to us—it will help people understand the realities of human trafficking. We can’t stay silent. If we do, we stay in the dark and allow the traffickers to continue the destruction of innocent lives. I am just like so many out there—a mother, a businesswoman. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I found out I am a survivor of human trafficking. The deception was so great, as it always is with traffickers. I had known that I was adopted at the age of seven, but I had always believed it was because my mother had passed away and no one could find my family. That’s what the traffickers told me.
I have very little memory of my childhood before I was adopted and came to the United States. The thing I remember most is crying and crying for my mother—crying out for her and the traffickers telling me to “be quiet,” telling me “she’s not going to come for you.” My adoptive mother knew nothing of what had happened to me as a child, either. She was so loving, and had no idea of my history. But then my questions came.
To answer them, I went to Southern India to find my adoption records. It was an incredible miracle when I found my birth mother, instead. When I first saw her, the questions flooded out from both of us.
“What happened? Why was I adopted? What happened to me?”
And her replies—“What happened to you? Where were you? I’ve been looking for you for twenty-one years!”
It was horrific to hear the truth. My mother told me that she had entrusted me to a friend who was going to take care of me. In reality, this friend was a child recruiter. She was selling children, taking them to transporters, to child brokers. When I was in India, I uncovered documents from the Indian government that tied me to my broker, who was later prosecuted for child trafficking. These documents revealed that he was stealing children and selling them, sometimes into orphanages. There is a picture of me—I look so bad. They abused me so badly; they treated me so terribly. It’s horrific, unspeakable.
