“I’m going to be a social worker,” she told me. “The right kind. The kind who actually protects kids.”
“You’ll be good at it.”
“Because you know what it’s like to be saved by someone who didn’t look away.”
Macy’s twenty-three now. Graduated with her social work degree. Works with trafficking victims. Testifies at trials. Helps prosecution cases.
She still rides. Has her own Harley now. Sportster. Purple. Covered in stickers about trafficking awareness.
We ride together sometimes. Her and me and a few other club members. Sometimes other survivors join us. Women who’ve escaped. Who’ve healed. Who ride to remember they’re free.
Last month, we organized a ride. “Macy’s Run for Freedom.” Two hundred bikers. Raised fifty thousand dollars for trafficking victim services.
At the end, Macy gave a speech.Continue reading…
