While sharing about BLVR's investment in us, I shared my personal story of being sexually abused by a family friend when I was six, keeping it secret until after graduating college, and about the heavy toll it took on my life.
Yes, there was something wrong, but it wasn't with me, and my cyber sex was nothing more than a symptom of something bigger. It was my way of showing that I felt out of control and helpless.
It's a mythical number that skeptics never question. And it's come up again and again in the national press for decades. It's purportedly the number of victims from the infamous child sexual abuse cases of the 1980s and 1990s. Not child victims, though.
For the past week and a half, I've been traveling the rural island of Barbados teaching primary and secondary school students vital lessons on how to stay safe.
You know those seasons in life that you look back on and think, "Whew, those were some amazing times!"? Well, that's how we're going to look back on what's happening right now.
Even in the pain, there are days when I can find compassion for you. Days when I wonder about your story. What causes a grown man to find gratification in a child's pain?
I first learned about Nomi Network when I purchased a "Buy her bag, not her body" tote. Trafficking survivors design and manufacture these bags with locally sourced materials such as recycled rice sacks.
Before making snap judgments about someone who claims they were sexually molested as a child, could we all just take a deep breath and understand the dynamics at play? From my experience reporting on these types of cases it is gut-wrenchingly hard for a bonafide victim to go public.
With heightened awareness and incredible opportunities to serve come inevitable exhaustion and a need for self-care
Canada must acknowledge that gender inequality, race, incest and histories of oppression are the pillars of the sex trade, including prostitution.
All things related with "sex" are never discussed with our children, even when they are clearly old enough to understand it. The worst part, we hope they get to learn all about it somehow and yet don't mess up.
When she introduced me, a tough looking inmate (*Tanesha) immediately tried to intimidate me. She scoffed and asked me if I'd ever been an addict. Pretty soon most of the women in the room were smirking at me. Boom -- judged. And I hadn't even said a word yet.
Dylan Farrow deserves to be in New York Magazine's "brilliant" category for her courage, as well as the comfort and strength her words give to so many. I stand behind Dylan and I call on others to do the same, no matter how uncomfortable the subject matter.
Not feeling the love? Sorry, but when I consider these issues, I just can't. I hear the kinder, gentler tone. I note the warm and fuzzy optics. But as for the prospect of real change -- no. I don't see it.
Eleven days ago, the New York Times published an open letter penned by Dylan Farrow detailing the abuse she endured at the hands of her adoptive fathe...
We've all been trained to believe, since childhood, that sexual predators are true crazies, deviants, and the stranger in the black sedan cruising the playground for victims.