At 9am I threw on an outfit and started jogging to Brower Commons. I cursed my jeans for being too tight, my memory for forgetting my inhaler, and my bad dietary habits that always left me dehydrated. I was rushing to a demonstration for human trafficking and I’d be really irked with myself if I was late. The European Commission has designated October 18th to be “European Day against Human Trafficking.” Demonstrations were held in the United States, Bosnia, and Romania. At 9:30, the same time as the other demonstration locations around the world, there was a four minute moment of silence, acknowledging victims of human trafficking everywhere. I was thrilled to be invited to something that was going to make me feel so productive.
When I arrived, panting and sweaty, I shook hands with the six demonstrators that held a banner reading, “HUMAN TRAFFICKING VIOLATES FREEDOM OF CHOICE.” The coordinators wore black and they carried shocking signs stating, “I had my kidney stolen,” or “I couldn’t protect myself against AIDS.” It was disturbing enough to make my stomach churn. The sign that read, “I was sold,” sent my brain whirling back to a book I’d read once titled Half the Sky, a nonfiction piece exposing the horror of female sex trafficking.
I had felt a sense of guilt when reading the book last Christmas and I noticed the same level of guilt arising when I read the signs on October 18th. It was impossible to read signs that said, “I couldn’t choose my partners” and not think of the people out there, living lives so unfairly different from my own. Just this morning, I had mentally cursed the heavens for my impromptu mile jog, all the while wondering what I should eat for breakfast, while others, all over the world, dreamed only of attending school or even being allowed outside.
As someone who never looks at the people holding signs around campus, I wondered how many students would actually notice the demonstrators demanding recognition for human rights. I walk past groups every day that I mentally support without stopping, thanks to my quest of purchasing a blueberry bagel or simply because I don’t want them to ask me for something. And now here I was, praying people everywhere would be nothing like me, and notice us. I was shocked and thrilled with the Rutgers community when I saw a girl walk past us, her eyes reading every sign and I was filled with glee upon seeing a man who stopped and asked us questions before our four minutes of silence. People noticed! Empathetic college students! People examined us from across the street while others slowed their pace, on the way to class, observing our push for human rights. It was a great day to be introduced to the power of political demonstration. It was certainly a great day to find out that people still care about the world around them.
Alysia Slocum