The media can change the world. I know as well as anyone how much of a negative effect the media can have on individuals. The media is a powerful thing, its hold is inescapable. There are so many hateful, vile and truthless things that come to life in the media. But I love the media. I love the media because of this power. I love that the media, when used in a positive way, has the ability to do great things.

Here's a perfect example of the media being used as a tool to provide a voice for the voiceless. For more, check out MTV Exit.

For those who don't know, the song playing in the video below is by the wonderful band Radiohead.

WATCH: 

A must-watch music video created in partnership between The Killers and MTV Exit to raise awareness about Human Trafficking.

Feel moved to take action? This awesome site has plenty of tangible ways for you to become an abolitionist, regardless of where you are in life.

WATCH:

A photograph elegantly and compassionately captured by photographer Andy Nichols (www.andynichols.com). Inspired by the many women and children being trafficked over the internet, Nichols set out to portray and illustrate the emotion that such stories provoke. (Click to see larger)

HUMAN TRAFFICKING ON CRAIGSLIST

For the past decade, the ever-increasing popularity of online classified sites has been pulling the carpet out from underneath its’ elderly predecessor, the daily newspaper. Now, buyers can enter a simple keyword into an online search database and discover thousands of items instantly.

As a result of few limitations, online classified sites have become a plethora of ‘for sale’ goodies ranging from children’s toys, cameras, computers, apartments, animals, jobs, and businesses.

For the ease and convenience of the friendly online buyer, nearly everything imaginable can be purchased with little or no effort.

Including flesh and blood.

According to an article recently published on Not For Sale.com, an online campaign fighting to abolish human trafficking, the internet is further enabling the shadowy world that is the sex trade industry.

Such activity takes place every day on Craigslist, a popular online web community which serves over 450 cities worldwide.

The Craigslist question and answer ‘fact sheet’ boasts that “just about anything” can be found on the site, providing an inadvertently direct and hauntingly true statement by the site administrators.

“There’s a dark side of Craigslist that most users don’t see,” wrote Katherine Chon, the Executive Director of the Polaris Project, one of the largest anti-human trafficking organizations in the U.S.

“In the ‘Erotic’ section, human traffickers have found Craigslist to be one of the most efficient, effective (and free) ways to post children and women for sale.”

For example, a young woman in the United States was convicted with involving minors in a prostitution ring that relied heavily on the site for advertising. Before she was old enough to vote, 19 year old Justine Alex Reisdorf began recruiting female students in the Eagan school district near her home city of Burnsville, Minn.

She advertised the services of minors nearly exclusively on Craigslist for seven months without any intervention from site moderators. Authorities only discovered the operation when a young girl, who had at one time worked for Reisdorf, tipped off a police officer who worked at her High School in June of 2007.

This case is not isolated. There have been numerous similar convicted cases in the United States to date and likely hundreds of others that have not yet been discovered. In Canada, there have been no convicted instances of this, but with more than 30 million new classified ads being self-published by Craigslist users worldwide each month, there is no doubt that it is happening.

Many may argue that the lack of moderation is what is responsible for such cases, but in truth, it appears unclear whether or not Craigslist staff moderate the site at all. The for-profit company currently has only 25 hired employees and relies heavily on the public for “community moderation,” using a flagging system to ensure that no free postings violate the terms of use.

When contacted to provide a statement about the safety and monitoring of the site, Craigslist representatives at the customer service office in San Francisco, California., were rude and hurried. All questions were referred back to either the online information page or an e-mail address that even they were not sure of.

When e-mailed as suggested, a response of one sentence was given, including the link to the Craigslist online privacy policy- right back to where the research began.

“It’s completely unbelievable. You sell cars, and you sell children…all in the same place,” said Shandelle Skaley, an administrator and director at the Word of Life church in Calgary, Alta.

Skaley runs the ‘Compassionate’ service, put on by the church for youth and young adults at the University of Calgary every week. She also assists a group of young people from her church in raising awareness and money to fight social injustices both locally and worldwide.

“We basically just started teaching about AIDS, poverty, the sex trade and slavery, and we try to mobilize these young people and get them thinking creatively about how to make a difference in the world,” she said.

“It’s not only education, but it’s also figuring out actually what can be done to change this.”

Skaley was the forerunner in organizing the ‘Compassionate Benefit Concert,’ a live concert and fundraiser that took place at The House coffee sanctuary in Kensington on July 25, 2008. The event raised $1,000 in support of ‘Children of the Bridge,’ an organization in Thailand that rescues children from the sex trade industry.

Oftentimes, when one thinks of modern-day slavery, images of children living in far-off, impoverished countries come to mind. Most either fail to, or choose not to think of the young women and children being forced to have sex with random strangers in their own country, city, or worse yet, community.

Earlier this year, in the Canadian city of Niagra Falls, Ontario, a 25 year old Toronto man named Imani Nakpamgi was charged with the trafficking of two underage girls for personal profit. According to an article published in the Toronto Star in May, Nakpamgi was fully aware that both girls were underage, being 14 and 15 when he first started acting as their pimp.

The Star reported that the younger girl worked for Nakpamgi for two months and was carrying his child at the time of the court hearing. Crown prosecutor John Raftery told the court that the older girl, who is now 18, began working for him in September 2005.

"He used intimidation and threats" to control her, Raftery told the Star, saying that he would kidnap her younger brother if she “ever got out of line.” She finally went to the police when a client robbed her at gunpoint.

Both girls had been advertised on the internet.

Skaley believes that some of the only ways to combat the internet sex slave phenomenon are education, awareness and inspiration.

While Craigslist has recently made efforts to reduce this type of crime from taking place on their websites, more needs to be done.

People need to know that this is happening, and a site that attracts over 12 billion views worldwide per month could be the perfect place to start. Through disclaimers, enhanced information pages and a more attentive staff, Craigslist could indeed become part of the solution instead of a big part of the problem.

“It does happen here…to look away and say that it doesn’t is inhumane,” said Skaley.

“Even if you’re not causing the problem, allowing it to happen is just as bad. That is why I think it’s so important to educate and inspire people. If we can get them thinking, maybe we can make a difference."

SOMETHING YOU SHOULD KNOW

For the second last feature of this semester, students in the Journalism program at SAIT were asked to write about a recent "trend." I arbitrarily chose the topic of human trafficking, because I felt that information about the topic would be easily accessible and perhaps somewhat of interest.

As I dove deeper and deeper into a world of dark and depressing research, I discovered that human trafficking is a whole lot bigger, a whole lot shadier, and a whole lot more local than I had ever previously anticipated. I discovered that modern-day slavery is very much a reality, and that very few people know it's happening.

About a month ago, on a trek for further information on the topic, I braved a cold trip on the LRT to the University of Calgary for a speech on Human Trafficking in Belgium. The speaker, whose name I cannot recall at this moment, was a well-educated woman with a thick accent and kind eyes. She had been working on the front-lines for years; building relationships with and eventually rescuing women who had been sold into the sex trade industry against their will.

She said some brilliant things about the criminalization of victims and the importance of awareness, but what happened after her speech concluded is what I recall most vividly.

About six women and two men sat in a nearly empty classroom, throwing ideas around about how to battle such atrocities. In the second row sat a young woman, with wavy brown hair and a gentle, diluted accent of her own. She had seemed particularly interested in the speech, and she would smile and nod at almost everything the speaker had to say.

Every once in awhile she would look behind her and scan the room, seemingly taking a mental note of how many people were there. Near the end of the alloted Question & Answer period, this young woman nervously raised her hand, looking to have one more say.

When called on, she told the room that she had been in and out of the sex trade industry for the past three years, all the while attending normal full-time classes at the University of Calgary. She said that she had been too scared to tell anyone about it, for fear of being ostracized by her friends or her teachers.

She had been alone in this secret for three years, perhaps sitting beside you in your classes or eating lunch across from you in the cafeteria.

While hers may not be a case of human trafficking, it does emphasize how local and REAL such issues really are. This woman was too ashamed to talk to anyone because she felt she would be judged... which is the same reason why many young women and children being forced to have sex against their will never seek help.

Shame and fear bind them to their captors.

After listening to speakers, conducting interviews, and reading copious amounts of internet sites, brochures, and magazine articles, I've come to the conclusion that awareness is one of the most powerful weapons against modern-day slavery.

WE need to know what is going on. WE need to tell our friends, our classmates, whoever will listen. It is our job to be an informed and justice-seeking generation. You never know where life will lead you, or who you'll cross paths with.

A colored woman, with super-short salt and pepper hair, is slouched against the wall. Using her faded red denim jacket as a blanket, she closes her eyes and blocks out the world. Every so often, when the room becomes too quiet, a quiet rumble from deep within her signifies the depth of her rest. Those sitting near her shift uncomfortably, embarrassed for her.

The music being played overhead is the only thing that rescues the building from uncomfortable silence. Every melody sounds the same, with lyrics crafted to conjure up feelings of nostalgia and remorse. No one seems to pay much attention to it. Two women, both in their mid-twenties, page through the provided magazines, swallowing up celebrity gossip in an attempt to speed up time. They do not look up, even when the quiet is interrupted by the ringing telephone.

Large windows remind patients of what they have to look forward to beyond this visit. However, most of the dark purple pull-down blinds that cover them can no longer be raised, causing the outside world to be a concept that is just beyond reach. Cracks of sunlight can be seen through them if enough effort is exerted, but the attempt is so stressed that it becomes quickly unjustifiable. One window, however, stands proud and completely uncovered. The result is a harsh contrast between darkness and light, causing a flood of sun to pour onto one half of the waiting room.
The walls, clad in peach and purple, aren't ugly yet aren't fashionable, either. Posters, placed randomly, attempt to provide a sense of decoration. An oversized clown smiles over the play area. Abandoned winter jackets hang beside the door.

An angry looking man sits, with crossed arms, in a chair across from my desk. He looks everywhere but at me, most likely feeling my gaze every so often and not wanting to meet it. He must have read the "Autism" poster about eighty times by now. Even when his name is called he refuses to smile. I lead him down a short hallway and try to make brief conversation, but his response is short and he looks directly through me. I wonder what his story is, what happened that causes him to avoid eye contact and conversing with those who really only mean well.

The atmosphere is tinged with a sense of sadness. No one really wants to be here, even the ones who are paid to. Smiles are plastered on, hiding the fear that is struggling to reveal itself as a genuine emotion. The small treatment room just down the hallway filters hundreds of patients in and out every week, each of them hoping for the process to be as quick and painless as possible. News, both good and bad, of both life and death, are announced in this room.

A girl, who is about my age, enters the clinic. She is with a young man, who is about the same age. She replaces the seat in which angry man was sitting previously, and the young man sits beside her. Their seats are perfectly separated from the other patients; one seat on each side of them. Her face is pale and she moves slowly; clearly she is the one seeking treatment. The man speaks to her and she responds without smiling, yet you can tell that she loves him. She places her face in her hands and stares at the old brown carpet, and the man clasps her hand. When she sits upright he rests his head on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort. A classic love song comes on overhead, crooning the words "I need your love, God speed your love to me". The young man tells her how much he loves the song, and she smiles the first smile I've seen yet. The two change the atmosphere of the room ever so slightly. Even though the sadness remains, something else has entered. Support, perhaps. Or is it love?

People come and go, some shouting back their thanks as they exit.

After a wait, it is time for the girl to be called. She expresses relief as she lifts her head from its ten fingered resting place. I walk ahead, attempting to relieve at least one of the stares fixated on her as she tries to stand to her feet. I wait beside the treatment room, just outside of the gaping door. As I glance back to gauge how she is doing, I realize that she is pregnant, and at least six or seven months along.

I hadn't noticed her pregnancy bump when she had entered the clinic, but now everything made such sense. The love between the boy and girl, the connection that they shared, was so evident. And now I understood the beautiful truth of what had bonded them so closely. Perhaps now I also understood what it was that had changed the negative atmosphere of this place.

I was encouraged by this new life within her, the little human whom I’d never even met. I felt excited for him or her. This little child hasn’t yet had a chance to become afraid of eye contact or experience the wear of grief, and doesn’t yet see death as something that must be feared. In a way I was also envious. Oh, to come to a place of restored faith in humanity, in love. To return to that state of childlikeness, a place in which some are blessed enough to exist before cynicism slithers in and begins to harden and age.

I have exactly two minutes left on my Internet metre before the screen goes black and I'm forced back out into the blistering sun, so I must be quick. Today we stupidly spent hours outside and then stopped for lunch and were told that it's 37 degrees outside. That's, like, ten degrees hotter than anything we've experienced thus far. I have a sick heat rash that's making me want to hide inside. Ugh.

Third day in Greece.
The Sun in ridiculously hot here. I came fully prepared to attain the shade of my ancestors, yet had no idea it would take approximately two minutes to do so. Yesterday we laid on the beach for hours and hours and then had to wear self-created togas that Haley crafted from bedsheets swiped from the Aegean Sky in order to protect our now sore skin from any more rays. We found a glorious resort, mistakenly, about 20 miles from ours. We walked through rows of red potato fields, and just as we were about to give up our hunt for a decent beach, we stumbled across the little Malia treasure. It has now become our new home.
Last night we went exploring through the city, and instead of turning left onto the well-travelled, ever-popular 'Beach Road', we trudged up through 'Old Town' to a traditional Greek restaurant where we learned has live Greek music and dancing on weekends.
I wasn't overly impressed with Greece until last night. I was impressed with the Sun, I mean, but wasn't overwhelmed by the beauty or the culture or anything I had anticipated when I considered coming to this island. Old Town gave us a bit of a peek into Greek life.
Britt got here early this morning, she took an all-night Ferry from Athens. Sounds like it would have been a good time...

Anyways. Everyone's waiting for me so we can begin our long trudge back to the hotel. Later yo.