Every day, I walk the streets of South Central Los Angeles and see young women, some barely teenagers, struggling to survive. They’re begging for change, darting into strangers’ cars, or lurking on street corners, trying to hide their pain behind a façade of bravado. It’s heartbreaking, but it’s also a stark reminder of a deeper, often unseen crisis: the devastating impact of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and the relentless threat of human trafficking that preys on the most vulnerable among us.
In South Central LA, homelessness is a harsh reality for many young women. According to recent estimates, over 45,000 people are homeless in the Los Angeles neighborhood, with a significant portion being women and girls. Many of these young women are victims of systemic neglect, trauma, and violence what experts call ACEs that leave scars long into adulthood. These early adverse experiences, such as sexual abuse, domestic violence, or neglect, often set the stage for a life marred by insecurity, substance abuse, and criminal involvement.
Take, for example, the recent federal crackdown along the Figueroa Corridor, where authorities arrested 10 suspects involved in a human trafficking operation that exploited young girls, some as young as 14. Prosecutors allege traffickers used social media and in-person tactics to lure vulnerable minors, promising a better life before forcing them into sexual servitude through violence, intimidation, and drugs. Among those arrested was the manager of the Stadium Inn & Spas, accused of “accepting proceeds from the trafficking operation,” an all-too-familiar story of exploitation hidden behind the façade of a local motel.
These arrests highlight a brutal truth: traffickers prey on trauma, targeting young women in communities like ours— girls who, because of unaddressed ACEs, often feel worthless, invisible, or desperate for love and acceptance. Many turn to street life, engaging in survival sex or drug use, believing these are their only options. The cycle of trauma and exploitation is relentless, and law enforcement alone cannot break it.
The question is: what are we doing to prevent this from happening in the first place? The answer lies in understanding the root causes of violence against women and girls and investing in targeted, trauma-informed interventions. We need mental health services that recognize the lasting scars of ACEs and provide healing, not punishment. Instead of criminalizing young women caught in survival sex or street homelessness, we should be offering therapeutic programs that empower them to rebuild their lives.
Research from the World Health Organization underscores the gravity of this crisis: approximately one in three women worldwide has experienced physical or sexual violence. In Los Angeles, violence against women is not just a statistic; it’s a daily reality. Girls who have faced childhood abuse often carry that trauma into adulthood, making them more susceptible to exploitation and trafficking.
Yet, instead of addressing these underlying issues, our city leans heavily on mass policing and incarceration. While law enforcement plays a vital role, it cannot be the sole solution. We need comprehensive strategies that include mental health care, trauma-informed education, and community-based programs that prioritize prevention and healing. The recent arrests are necessary, but they are only part of the solution. We must do more to dismantle the systemic barriers that make girls vulnerable to traffickers.
Some may argue that stronger laws and harsher punishments are the answer. While legal consequences are important, they do not address the root causes of trafficking and violence. Without addressing the trauma that fuels vulnerability, we are only treating symptoms, not curing the disease. We must shift our focus from punishment to prevention by investing in mental health services, youth mentorship, and community support networks that recognize and heal ACEs.
Furthermore, the United States’ refusal to ratify international human rights treaties reflects a missed opportunity. While resource-rich, the U.S. already has the tools and laws to combat trafficking and violence against women. What’s lacking is political will and a unified commitment to enforce and expand these laws, especially at the local level. Ratifying international treaties could bolster accountability and foster global cooperation, but the real change happens on our streets through community-led efforts, education, and accessible mental health care.
The fight against human trafficking and violence against women begins with every community member, activist, and concerned citizen. We must demand more targeted mental health services for trauma survivors, especially young women who have experienced ACEs. We need to create safe spaces where they can heal, learn, and thrive. We must challenge harmful societal beliefs about masculinity and gender roles that perpetuate discrimination and violence.
It also means speaking out against harassment, exploitation, and abuse whenever we see it, whether online, at work, or on the streets.
Our streets reflect our values. If we allow exploitation and trauma to continue unchecked, we are complicit. But if we choose to act in our homes, our neighborhoods, and our city, we can break the cycle. We owe it to these young women, to our community, and to ourselves to do better.
Our streets, our sisters, let’s stand up and heal what’s broken.