WEBVTT

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You noticed I'm holding q-cards.

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I'm holding q-cards

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because they are going to help me
focus on my message

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while at the same time,
shielding me from painful memories,

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and intrusive thoughs,

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because my story 
isn't an easy one to tell.

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In fact, every time I tell my story,

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I'm re-traumatized.

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But if sharing my story means

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that one more girl 
has a chance of freedom,

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then it's worth it for me.

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Growing up in my family wasn't easy,

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mental health problems and abuse

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can destabilize a family.

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But, abuse doesn't just exist in a vacuum.

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It doesn't just start or stop
in one idividual's life,

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it permiates every action
and activity of their being.

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Mental health problems
and abuse led to neglect,

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and neglect left me 
on the streets of Scarborough,

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as a very young girl.

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I distinctly recall going back to school.

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Remember each year
the teacher would ask us?

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"Write down what you did last summer."

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I was so ashamed, I was paralised.

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I didn't go to summer camp.

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No, I didn't go to the cottage.

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I was the kid 
that played outside all day long.

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There was no regular structure.

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There was no routine for most anything.

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One summer, I was raped by a stranger,

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and other, abuse integrated
by the neigborhood boys.

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I was always in fight or flight mode.

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It seemed like danger 
was lurking around every corner.

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What I learned that summer

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was how to remain hypervigilant,
how to avoid attack,

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something that no young girl
should ever have to learn.

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But it didn't stop
with the neighborhood boys.

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I would later be abused at the hands
of multi generational pedofile.

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And it was his words that kept me trapped.

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When he said,

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your parents won't love you anymore
if you tell on me.

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In my isolated environment
I believed him.

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And my behaivors started to reflect
the environment that I lived in.

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I don't remember the time back then

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when my boddy ever felt like my own.

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At 17, I started moving from club to club.

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I first started stripping.

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Then later, I worked for a smut magazine

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where I would meet
some of the most dangereous people

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I'd ever encountered.

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Still, I was on this never ending quest

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to have some form of agency
over my own body,

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a source of power I had never had before.

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One day, my phone rang,

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I was looking at my gas gauge
sitting on empty.

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It was my old co-worker 
from the magazine company.

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He called me to tell me that

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he was running Toronto's
largest massage parlour.

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And he wanted me to come
and join his stable.

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The word "stable"

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didn't even give me pause.

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Well, on the outside 
it looked like a normal bussines

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except it wasn't.

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This massage parlour had ten rooms
and they were always busy.

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There were between forty to sixty
women and girls on rotation in the spa.

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A massage was between 40 and 50 dollars.

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We'd get a 10 dollar commission,

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if you didn't have a fine.

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And you could have a fine 
for just about anything,

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being late, talking back
or not having a perfectly primmed body.

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It was expected that the girls
could earn considerably more money

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by doing extras.

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And by doing extras,

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I am talking about some of the
most unimaginable and degrading acts.

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Police raids? They occured in these places

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but no police officer, no by law official 
ever offered me help.

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No one ever said "Hey, is there
somewhere else you'd rather be?"

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or "I know somebody you can call.

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Can I connect you two?

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And this would be my life 
for the next nearly nine yaers.

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Maybe you are listening to my story

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and you're thinking 
"how foolish is this girl!"

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But I wasn't foolish.

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I was vulnerable,

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I was naive,

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and I was a perfect target.

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I didn't have a sense of belonging.

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I didn't feel wanted or valued
for anything other than my body.

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I had started to deceive myself,

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this is my choice, I'm making this money.

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But in hindsight,

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there wasn't my choice involved at all.

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This wasn't work, it was trafficking.

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I was told how to dress,
who to have sex with

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where to live, everything.

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I felt scared almost all the time.

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The man who recruited me

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he manipulated me into thinking,
believing that he was my protector,

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my boyfriend, except he wasn't.

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He was my trafficker and I was
little more than his property.

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Over time, he made me a manager.

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Made me. This was not an act of saving me.

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This was not a promotion.

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This was him trying to build his status
and grow his power.

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On paper, he ran a licenced
body rub parlour.

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This allowed him to look like a
legitimate bussinesman.

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This licence allows you to rub
need or stimulate

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any muscle in human body.

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Officially, these words don't mean
that sex is on the menu.

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But in my experience, and thousands
of others suggests differently.

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Somewhere between the letter of law

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and the predatory practises of
massage parlour owners and operators,

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the willingness for police 
to look the other way,

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our city has created
a licenced brothel system.

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A massage parlour keeps the schedule,

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manages all of the advertising,

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and fields all of the calls,

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freeing up the trafficker
to look for another victim.

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Buyers! They don't have to 
go to a seedy motel.

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Massage parlours an holistic centres

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ones on the way to and from
your home and work.

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They provide a facada of acceptability

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safety and option on a woman's part.

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But even worse, the fact that 
all this happens

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inside of a licenced system means that

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we are enshrining a man's right
to buy a living breathing human being.

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That's what we are talking about.

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This is what sex trafficking 
looks like in Canada.

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It is the brothel hidden in plain sight

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where women are trapped
and many enslaved.

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And here all of us,

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all of us are deceived into believing that

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what's hapening is a woman's choice.

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You see, our cities licence these parlours

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and holistic centres.

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And in their point of view

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they're not officially granting
a licence for a brothel,

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but they are well aware of
what's happening behind closed doors.

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Not all massage centres are like this.

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No, legitimate owners, 
they're not open until 4:00 am.

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They don't advertise their staff
in scantily clad clothing

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on escort websites.

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So, how these massage parlours,
how are they able to thrive?

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Here in Canada, each municipality

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has the power and control 
to grant the licences for their area.

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The higher levels of government,
they know these problems exist,

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yet they take no responsibility

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by saying they don't make the decisions,

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the municipalities do.

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Even one of our more celebrated
and successful politicians

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was found inside a massage parlour
with no negative impacts to his career.

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It's as if we're saying 
"we're ok with this.

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But I refuse to believe that,
I just simply don't.

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I was in a meeting with the most 
high senior officials

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from the municipal licencing.

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I specifically asked,

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I said "You guys know that 
it isn't just massage, right?"

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Their response "Yeah, we know that
these are just fronts for brothels."

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Everyone knows about this proplem,

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yet no one is taking the lead to solve it.

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I eventually escaped 
from my circumstanes.

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I literally slept for three days straight.

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It was my soul that hurt
where there was no hospital.

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Discovering my faih
in a supportive community

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guided me to seek counselling 
where my journey to recovery began.

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Because you see, getting out is one thing

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but staying out, that's just as hard.

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With this understanding,
I started BridgeNorth.

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I want to be a part of solution.

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I want to help end 
sex trafficking in Canada.

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We offer services to women.

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They'll contact us for peer mentorship
and support,

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medical care, food assistances,
many other services as well.

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We also provide ..

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Sorry, we also provide
a pulic education,

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and we advocate to change our laws,

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because this problem is still 
so hidden in plain sight.

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There really are more victims
than you think there are.