Survivor Diary: Robin Zee - Reflecting on Reflections | Part 2

I grew up with the message that a women’s role was to cater to men. And someone like me, had less options because I was less appealing. So when a groomer smelled that I was prime meat. Our sole purpose was to appease men and bring home the money, everything rotated around that even from a young young age. I had this feeling that we were nothing without a man present. I also had the feeling that even though this was all I knew somehow, somewhere deep inside I knew, this was wrong, my poor tormented soul screamed in pain, I didn’t know how to help myself then and my soul’s screams landed on deaf ears.

Our worth was based on the fella we caught in our net while fishing for the best catch. With my options seemed limited, I didn’t even bother to fetch me a husband, after all who would have a gal like me. I wasn’t what you’d call a natural beauty or at least thats the way I perceived myself. On one hand I wanted to be considered one of the pretty ones and on the other hand due to the sexual abuse I also wanted to be invisible in order to keep safe. In my mind if I was pretty all my pain would dissipate could be solved, remembering that this was from the thinking of a child, a sad state of affairs. But there is some truth to that, as we are all very well aware that how you are treated by the world at large greatly depends on how one looks.

I remember my mother telling me that in her day she went to college not to learn but to find a husband and apparently back then that was the norm. It’s as if we are sub human, almost as if we are expected to just do and fulfil the worlds expectation.

I was told that when I was three, my parents argued about being to young or not to young to go out for Halloween, whoever was saying I’m not to young wasn’t prepared but must have won the argument. A last minute costume put me in a fancy dress with a plastic telephone. Knock, knock and I was told to say “trick or treat” all for the sake of free candy or maybe it was suppose to be for fun, I don’t know, I just don’t remember fun.

Now I doubt the fancy dress and play telephone was intended to represent a call girl, or maybe it was. Isn’t it ironic how things unfolded because thats pretty much what unfolded in my life. Even before my parents argument I had already been sexually exploited but certainly didn’t have the ability to voice any of it and when you can’t voice it is turns into behavioural issues but this was certainly laying the foundation, for me the foundation was dense, cracked, shattered mostly, I went silent, frozen in time, trying to so hard to blend into the wallpaper and as the years unfolded the wall of protection I was building was high and lonely.

I was know as the gal who made a line for the worst bugger in the room, the lowest of low, and history repeats itself. I jumped from one abusive exploitative relationship to another.

As a victim of human trafficking you are very controlled, the reigns are short, not much wiggle room. I learned that I could get a little leeway as a compliant, I was the girl that didn’t make external waves, I kept everything inside and released my pain but inflicting self abuse and toying with death through addiction as well, pushing the limits. The only time I really felt as if I had any control was when I was on a sex trade date. I set the rules, I set the price, I was on top, though I am aware that the feeling of control I had was illusionary to say the least, that reality becomes apparent after ones first bad date, meaning violent as it comes with the turf, from your owner and from your customers at times.

As a victim of human trafficking you are very controlled, the reigns are short, not much wiggle room.

As I’ve stated before I did escape, I did go through a metamorphosis for the longest time the label of survivor of human trafficking hadn’t reached the surface of my consciousness, at least not one I was ready to admit. Then there’s the accepting ones own reality. Though the years I spent peeling back the layers, which each layer peeled back, came a sense of accomplishment, a sense of strength, as it’s not easy work. But with that as one peels the layers back, the skin, the layer of protection becomes raw, even a slight breeze burns but its part of the healing and there was just no way around it but through. What now?

If you are or believe you have identified someone in a trafficking situation, you can take action. Call 911 immediately to notify local law enforcement. You may also call the human trafficking hotlines in Canada and the United States by dialling the numbers below. Both hotlines are open 24/7/365 days of the year and provide services in over 200 languages.