Share Your Story: A Global Voice from Medellín, Colombia

Our inaugural A Global Voice story comes from an interview with a 48-year-old woman born and raised in Itaguí, Colombia. For her privacy, we have decided to change the names of every person involved in her story and keep her identity anonymous, calling her “L.”

She is a survivor of sex trafficking, taken to Barcelona, Spain and held for 3 weeks. This is a transcript of an interview where “L” details her experience.

Content Warning: this interview includes discussion of sexual violence and substance misuse

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Interviewer: Hi L, thank you so much for taking the time to share your story and being our first story. 

L: Of course dear.

Interviewer: I want to preface this interview by stating that it is up to you to share however much you want to share. You hold the power in sharing your story, and if at any point you wish to leave something out or change the subject, please let me know.

L: Of course.
Interviewer: Could you please tell me about yourself and describe yourself during the time you experienced sexual violence?

L: I was born and raised in Itaguí, Colombia—a city in Medellín. My family were pretty well off financially and I grew up going to private Catholic school. I had a lot of fun growing up even though the nuns would pinch me for whispering to my friends, but those are moments I always look back upon with joy.

L: When I was 19 years old, I had my son, Alex. Although the circumstances around my pregnancy were intricate, Alex was born into a world where he was loved and cared for, especially by my parents. While I continued school, my mother would take care of Alex while my father helped us financially. Also around the same time, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a stab to the heart.

L: I was 20 years old when I experienced sexual violence. Alex was still very young and it had been a year since my mother’s diagnosis. Although I appreciated all the support my parents were giving me, I wanted more for my son and I didn’t want to be such a financial burden on my parents.

Interviewer: As you begin to think about your experience, are there any particular thoughts or feelings that come up?

L: For the majority of my life, I’ve always associated my experience with betrayal. I felt this way because I was manipulated and tricked by a friend—it was as simple as that. It took a long time for me to accept that I was a survivor of sexual violence.

Interviewer: Who was this friend?

L: Her name was Carmen. Growing up, I had a lot of friends. One of my friends had a sister—Carmen—who I’d see a lot whenever I stopped by his house. But as time passed, I saw her less and less until I didn’t see her anymore. I asked my friend where she went and he told me she was working in Spain; she had this job where she traveled to various European countries, working jobs in casinos and resorts. My friend told me that the job earned a lot of money, and as someone who needed money at the time, I asked him if he could connect me with his sister and the people who got her the job. This is where it all started.

Interviewer: After you asked your friend for that information, how long was the process for you to get to Spain?

L: Two weeks after that interaction, I was ready to go. Usually, the people bought their recruits their passport and ticket, and for some reason that I didn’t know at the time, this was considered their “debt.” Since I already had a passport and my father bought me my ticket, I thought I didn’t have any debt. Besides that, the process was smooth and I was able to y to Barcelona.

Interviewer: What was it like when you first arrived in Barcelona?

L: When I arrived, I was picked up and taken to a really nice hotel. That first night, I even stayed in a presidential suite. The next day, two men picked me up and we drove somewhere two hours away from the city. When we got to this location, I was told that I arrived at my casino.

Interviewer: What did this casino look like?

L: This wasn’t a casino. On the outside, the walls were topped with some sort of spiked fencing, kind of like barbed wire. I noticed the windows had bars over them like in prisons. When I saw this environment, I immediately felt a sense of fright. In my head, I was thinking that something wasn’t right.

L: When I went inside, a man revealed to me what I was there for and took away my passport and the money I had. He told me that I had a debt of seven thousand pesetas [the equivalent of 12,411 euros]. I told him that I didn’t have this debt because I already paid for my passport and ticket; I was really confused about why he was claiming I had debt. But my confusion turned to horror when he told me that I was there to be a prostitute.

Interviewer: Alongside your horror, did your feelings of betrayal that you mentioned before also appear at this moment?

L: Yes. Alongside me feeling petrified, an anger toward Carmen began to brew inside of me. Obviously, being told that I would be forced into prostitution was another feeling of its own, but I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with betrayal.

Interviewer: Did you see Carmen at all at the “casino?”

L: Yes, I did. First though, I was shown my room where I was to sleep and “work.” Once I “settled” into the environment, my eyes caught a glimpse at her familiar face: My body went red with anger. I went up to her and asked why she lied about where she was and why she didn’t tell her brother. All she said was, “Fresca pelada, uno se acostumbre.” [Don’t worry girl, you’ll get used to it.] That’s all she said.

Interviewer: And who else did you interact with?

L: My roommate, Mina, also from Medellín, was so kind. Unlike me, she came to Spain already as a prostitute. However, she was taking a break during the time I was there; she was being tested for HIV. Her mouth was covered in pus and warts and she looked very malnourished. She explained to me what the job was like, how they paid, how much time I had to work, and what to do when I got my period. I was to work all the way until I started to bleed, but there were ways to delay it, she said. Some girls would stick sponges at the very end of their cervix to soak the blood up while working. I remember when I first heard that, I cringed. She even showed me the bar. The first day was overwhelming, but her kindness was a small ounce of relief.

Interviewer: Besides meeting Mina and your reunion with Carmen, what else occurred on your first day?

L: That same night, I didn’t work, but I was told to sit down at the bar and observe. I was allowed a phone call to my mother, but it was only to tell her that I was okay. When I spoke to her, she immediately took note of the tone of my voice and knew something was off. And the next day came and the torture began.

Interviewer: Before I ask more questions, I just want to make sure that you’re doing okay and whether you want to continue.

L: I’m doing okay. It’s obviously a lot to share my story, but I’m doing okay. We can continue.

Interviewer: Okay. I know I’m going to throw a lot of questions at you, but you can choose to answer whichever you want, whether it’s some of them, all of them, or none of them. During your time period of “working,” what went through your mind? Who did you see and what did you notice?

L: If I’m being honest, I felt dirty every time I worked. Anyone who says that being a prostitute is “easy” is terribly mistaken. Regardless of the amount of choice you had in being a prostitute—which for me was no choice since I was forced—it’s torture. Like Carmen, girls would have to drug themselves to relieve themselves of

the constant torture. Drug use and abuse was normal. Mina would tell me to snort some cocaine and the pain would go away. Fortunately, I never took drugs, but I still succumbed to excessive alcohol use. I just didn’t want to feel the pain.

L: I saw the lives of women from all walks and from all over the world. Besides a lot of Colombian women like me, there were a lot of Czech women. They were in a different building than I was. They made the most money because their own mothers would sell them.

L: As for those who requested services, I saw a lot of sexually depraved men walk through those doors. While I had horrible men come to me, I was lucky enough to not have these kinds of men. One time, I even got someone who didn’t do anything sexual—he just sat in my room and spoke to me about his life. In general though, men didn’t come there to do something they would do with their partners, but they’d go to a prostitute as a means to satisfy themselves and only themselves. That’s how I describe the men who raped me. I knew I couldn’t say no. I was just a transaction. These men viewed me and all these other women as subhuman, disgusting objects just for them to feel sexual satisfaction.

Interviewer: With many survivors of sexual violence, there are often feelings of guilt, even though these cases aren’t the fault of the survivors but rather the perpetrators. With such feelings of dehumanization and objectification, did you ever feel guilty for what happened to you?

L: I felt guilty for trusting my friend and believing in a lie, but I never felt guilty for being violated. Although these seem similar, I’ve separated the two.

Interviewer: Correct me if I’m wrong, but does this distinction revolve around the level of choice you had?

L: Something like that. I could’ve chosen my action in trusting my friend, but I couldn’t control the actions of others. And the moment another person has enough power to make choices for you, that’s when you realize you truly lost control.

Interviewer: Did the other girls at the casino feel this way?

L: I was kind of a lone case in my situation; everyone else felt heavy senses of shame and guilt. You could feel their emptiness whenever you spoke to them. Their brains were hardwired to accept the rape as their fault, even though it wasn’t. It becomes even worse when you realize that the administrators took advantage of the fact that they were undocumented or needed money or shelter.

Interviewer: Did you ever try to make them realize that it wasn’t their fault?

L: Unfortunately, I didn’t. I never consoled them. I was so scared. I already felt so betrayed that if I did try to console them, someone would turn around and betray me again. This twisted business made us women so hostile toward each other. It became a dark kind of competition. But there wasn’t any winner other than those who abused us.

Interviewer: And how were you able to get out?

L: Some days into that period of time, one of my uncles got into contact with me as a “client.” Mind you, all of our conversations were heard, so he had to be very secretive. I could only answer with “yes” or “no,” and all my answers were to be vague. He was able to speak to one of the administrators and he told them that he’d give them all the money I still owed. They said a price that, to this day, I don’t know and days passed. My uncle sent a friend of his, Paco, to the casino and he paid for a night with me. Every day he came, he took me to the bank so I could deposit more and more money to pay for my debt. The days kept going on. Some days I worked and some days I didn’t. Some days, I would have nothing to eat but peaches. I hate peaches and I can’t look at them without feeling upset.

L: Finally, the day of my escape arrived. Two other girls and I were brought to a bank. I finally knew where I was. Vinaros, Spain. I was given my passport so I could go to the bank. While the other girls went shopping in Vinaros, I went to a church and at this church, I met with Paco. I forgot to mention that a man was watching me and the other girls. In the church, I was hidden from this man. Paco looked me in my eyes and said, “Walk away, and walk as far away as you can.” And I did.

L: I walked. I walked on unfinished roads. Some of these roads had construction teams on them, while others were simply dirt and gravel roads. Regardless of the kind of road, I just kept walking. I walked until I saw Paco again at a train station. Once reunited, we went to the airport where I took a flight from Barcelona to Málaga. After my escape, the administrators began to threaten my family and told them I couldn’t fly anywhere because they had men at every airport. I lived in Málaga for 2 months until another family friend connected me to the Barcelona police. Since I couldn’t fly, I sat for 14 hours on a bus from Málaga to Barcelona. Once I made it to Barcelona, I was able to file a report. It was a moment where I felt like I regained some of that control I lost. I was able to go back to Medellín but I didn’t stay there for long, though. The threats got so bad, I had to immigrate to the U.S.. That’s how I started my life here.

Interviewer: Once you were in the U.S., did you have any newfound clarity in regard to your experience?

L: You see, sex trafficking wasn’t really a known thing to most people in Colombia. We knew that prostitutes existed, but there wasn’t a label for how women become prostitutes or the dark behind-the-scenes. It wasn’t until I came here that I realized that I was sex tracked. A swarm of different emotions came to me. I was shocked as to the lack of information there was surrounding trafficking. Even though I was mad before, I got even more mad at myself, at Carmen, and the situation as a whole.

Interviewer: Do you still hold feelings of resentment towards Carmen?

L: No. I’m not mad at her anymore, but I always ask myself how she’s doing. As time passed, I felt like she was much more of a victim than I was. While I had a family behind me that helped me escape, she didn’t. All her family cared about was the money coming back to them.

Interviewer: And to conclude such an insightful interview, do you have anything you’d like to say to other survivors?

L: Don’t feel guilty. The guilt belongs to the man who takes advantage of the woman. The guilt belongs to those who fail these women. You did not make yourself a victim, but it was forced upon you. You, and only you, have the key to your truth.

Interviewer: Thank you so much for your beautiful words and your bravery. 

L: Anytime, my dear.

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Thank you to L, for your incredible bravery in sharing your story.