Breaking Free (7 page)

AFESIP officially opened its doors on March 8, 1997. Somaly didn’t want to draw too much attention. After all, the girls were escapees and could still be caught. But Somaly did invite some government officials whom she admired. It was the first time she stood up and claimed her lifelong dream to be not only a survivor, but also an advocate.

AFESIP was here to help all endangered women. Holding her daughter, Adana, and thanking her guests and survivors, Somaly couldn’t have been prouder.

“It is not about strength, it is about we should do what we can.”

~ Somaly Mam

Saying It Out Loud

It wasn’t all clear skies once AFESIP opened, though. And while she was getting support from overseas, Somaly was definitely playing a tricky game in Cambodia. She was getting recognized more and more in the streets. She started getting threats from pimps. They all said the same thing: If she didn’t stop helping girls break out of the brothels, she’d be killed.

Somaly couldn’t exactly turn to the police for protection. A lot of the officers went to the brothels for sex, too. Or sometimes the pimps paid them to keep quiet. One day in the market, a man on a motorbike put a gun in Somaly’s side and told her that her days were numbered. Then her parents’ house back in Thlok Chhrov was torched. Blessedly, nobody was inside.

Still, the message was loud and clear. Somaly and her family were not safe. Pierre demanded that she take a break and told her they were going on a trip. She hired a bodyguard and the whole family went to Laos, a country north of Cambodia, for a little while. Before they left, Somaly wrote a letter to the prime minister of Cambodia to see if he could help her cause. She knew he’d never get the letter. It was like putting a note in a bottle and casting it out to sea. And yet, where else could she turn?

It was hard for Somaly to be away from all the young women of AFESIP, even though she knew they were in good hands with her adoptive mother in charge. Somaly loved being a mother to Adana and Ning. She also felt like she was mother, sister, and mentor to these newly freed girls. She was so frustrated and furious that thugs were stopping her work. Pierre was getting pretty exasperated about all the commotion in their lives, too. The trip to Laos was a respite, but it also made them all pretty anxious. They just wanted to get back home as soon as possible.

When the prime minister of Cambodia replied to Somaly’s letter, she couldn’t believe her eyes. He promised to investigate the burning of her parents’ house. He also wrote that he believed in her work. He knew there was a real problem with trafficking. He wanted her back in Cambodia. And so, Somaly returned.

Soon after she came back, AFESIP got funds from the European Union and UNICEF. Somaly went straight to work setting up another shelter outside of Phnom Penh. AFESIP’s one-room house was overstuffed with women and children. The new space would have room for several bedrooms, a classroom where the women could learn literacy and basic math, and another room for sewing classes.

Then Somaly got a humanitarian award from the Prince of Asturias in Spain. She and her family flew to Spain in first class. She had to speak in front of royalty and Nobel Peace Prize winners, and she was sure she would melt into a puddle of nerves. But she stood up on the stage and spoke about what it was like to be a Cambodian girl. What it was like to paint on a doll’s face every night and tunnel inside while the men used her body any way they wished. What it was like to see so many girls just like her.

The wild applause after Somaly’s speech filled her whole body with electricity. People were crying and cheering. She got to meet the prince and queen of Spain. They thanked her for her dedication and vision. Mobs of people asked for Somaly’s autograph.

Somaly couldn’t believe she could talk about her darkest past in front of these people and still be respected. She always thought it was her fault that she’d been sold into slavery and that she should be ashamed of what she’d done with her body.

But that day in Spain, saying it out loud, in front of this huge crowd, was a huge turning point for Somaly. She got new perspective about her mission and herself. She had been sold into servitude and treated cruelly because sex trafficking was silently accepted—not because of anything Somaly wanted or deserved.

Now she was claiming her past so she could move proudly into her present and future. She was meant to tell her story to the world. She was the only one who knew it from the inside out, the only one who could speak for all the girls still imprisoned.

With the money from Spain, Somaly finished the new shelter. Then she started on a home specifically for the little children who’d been rescued. She found some land near her parents’ old home in Thlok Chhrov, Kampong Cham Province. She built a house with a fish pond, a chicken coop, sewing machines, and weaving looms. The kids could learn how to farm or just run in the tall grasses. Best of all, Somaly’s adoptive father, Mam Khon, still taught at the village schoolhouse, and she showed her house full of young girls the crisp new uniforms they could wear with pride. She told the girls how long and hard she’d begged Grandfather for the chance to wear that same blue skirt and white shirt. How she’d washed it in the very same river.

This is how she got those little girls to trust her. Many of them were so young and frightened that they didn’t smile for months and they didn’t talk for years after she found and rescued them. But Somaly walked them through Thlok Chhrov and introduced them to the fields and the sky. Even though it was heartbreaking to see how young they were when they were abused, Somaly was exhilarated knowing they could begin their lives again.

Slowly, the girls started hearing her and hoping with her. Somaly felt proudest of all about the Kampong Cham center. Here she saw twelve- and fifteen-year-olds holding one another’s hands and weaving side by side. They called one another “sister.” The older girls helped the younger ones with schoolwork. They became the family they’d always wanted, and never had.

“No child wants to be a bad luck girl, and the bad luck is not going to touch everyone; even if you have been very badly treated, you can still prove this to them. I always tell my girls not to fight back. In contrast, please remain respectful…the people who are negative are then ashamed and start changing their concept of how we must treat one another.”

~ Somaly Mam

Milestones

Police Precinct Offices. Phnom Penh, Cambodia, 1999

Somaly looked out at the crowd of foreign faces—a room full of policemen and soldiers. Every set of eyes looked back at her like she was crazy. Many of the men sneered or openly laughed at her as she spoke.

Then Somaly held up a banana in one hand and a condom in the other. She demonstrated to the men how to put on a condom. There was a lot of squirming from the audience, but not as much laughing anymore. AIDS was sweeping through Cambodia by 1999. Many of the men were scared, although they would never say it out loud.

Somaly started asking questions.

How many of you had your first sexual experience in a brothel?

Why do you enjoy visiting prostitutes?

What exactly gives you sexual pleasure?

It wasn’t easy to get the policemen and soldiers to talk. She had brought Mr. Chheng with her. He was a male social worker at AFESIP. He started asking the questions with her. Maybe if the men were too angry or embarrassed to answer her, they could talk to Chheng instead.

Slowly, a few voices started floating back.

Of course I started in a brothel. Where else?

My wife orders me to go to prostitutes.

Sexual pleasure…? What is that?

In Cambodian culture, sex was always about male dominance and asserting power. There was no sense of enjoyment for the woman or the man. That’s why Somaly wanted to make these presentations. She wasn’t there to yell at the men or prove them wrong. She went to the Ministry of Defense in 1999 and said it was time to talk to the men of Cambodia about how they had been indoctrinated, too. Growing up in a world where most boys had their first sexual experiences through rape was a recipe for disaster. She wanted men to know they could change this mentality.

Some of the girls from the AFESIP shelter asked if they could come to Somaly’s lectures, too. They wanted to describe what it felt like to be forced into sex. Somaly told them it was a tricky situation and she couldn’t promise the men would listen. The girls said they wanted to go anyway.

The response was astounding. A lot of the men wept as they listened to Somaly’s survivors. They got four hundred thank-you notes in the first month of starting the program.

Thank you for telling your story.

Thank you for saying this out loud.

Thank you for the incredible work you do.

AFESIP Fair Fashion Offices. Kompong Cham, Cambodia, 2003

This time, the crowd of faces was familiar and cheerful. The girls chatted with one another and shared patterns and ideas in between workstations. Many of them had learned how to sew from Somaly’s adopted sister (from the sagging birdhouse in Thlok Chhrov). It was the first thing these survivors could focus on after the horrors of what they had been through. Learning a skill that used their minds and their hands was extremely therapeutic and healing.

Lots of garment factories were airless and had no windows. The workers were paid pennies. But Somaly’s Fair Fashion workshop was a ray of light. She looked out at the girls at their tables and felt herself beaming. She had created a safe space where survivors could see their beautiful handwork and sell their crafts.

Most important, everyone in the room wanted to be here. They wanted to thread the bobbin and feel the
ratatatatat
of the machines thrum in their skin. They were in this together. They each shared a common past. And they were each ready for a different future.

Gripsholm Castle. Mariefred, Sweden, 2008

The crowd of faces was bright and loud. Hands of all ages and colors of skin applauded Somaly as she walked to the podium and accepted the World Children’s Prize for the Rights of the Child. This was such a momentous occasion for her. Six and a half million children from all over the world voted for Somaly to get the award.

She was not only here
for
them, she was here
because
of them.

***

It wasn’t all smooth sailing and award ceremonies, though. As AFESIP grew, there were some heartbreaking setbacks. Botched raids where the police turned out to be working for the pimps. Funding cut off suddenly with no explanation. Some of the rescued women left the AFESIP shelter because they trusted only their traffickers. The scariest obstacles were the recurring threats to Somaly and her family.

She was careful to keep her girls safe. More than once, she had to hire a security team for her family. She also had to close shelters sometimes and build big walls around them when she opened their doors again.

Even so, through the years, AFESIP took its hits and came back ready for the fight. Somaly made sure she sat down with every young girl who walked into an AFESIP shelter. She told them that they could come and get medical treatment and then leave, or stay for as long as they wanted. She told them they were safe, they were loved, they had their whole lives ahead of them.

Somaly was living proof that this was true. That anything was possible.