On Oct. 3, hip-hop mogul Sean “Diddy” Combs was sentenced to just over four years in prison for prostitution-related offenses — less than half of what prosecutors sought — months after being acquitted on sex trafficking and racketeering charges.
The sentencing concludes a high-profile trial that exposed Combs’ disturbing patterns of abuse and control. Surveillance footage of Combs assaulting his longtime girlfriend, Cassie Ventura, lent weight to her allegations of rape, domestic violence, and coercion. Yet her admission in court that she had loved him became a focal point for his defense.
That contradiction laid bare a deeper problem — in the court of public opinion, only certain victims are deemed worthy of protection. When survivors don’t fit a narrow mold of innocence or likability, we often dismiss them or deny them justice entirely.
Teresa Huizar is CEO of National Children’s Alliance. (courtesy, Teresa Huizar)
Nowhere is this dynamic more damaging than in child sex trafficking.
Trafficking victims aren’t always the teary-eyed children from public service ads. They’re teens who may roll their eyes in court or curse out the people trying to support them. They might have arrest records, abuse substances, or reject help. In desperation, they may have traded sex for food and shelter. None of that makes them less a child — or less a victim.
That’s a hard truth for many to accept. We more readily imagine trafficking happening to a 10-year-old girl in a foreign country than to a 15-year-old from the neighboring town. A teen who insists her trafficker is her boyfriend often doesn’t inspire the same compassion, even though she’s no less exploited.
But that is the reality of child sex trafficking in America. Nearly 90% of victims are between 14 and 17 years old. Most know their trafficker before the abuse begins. Nearly 40% are trafficked by someone they believe is a romantic partner.
Traffickers seek out teens who are vulnerable due to unstable home or family situations. Youth involved in the child welfare or juvenile justice systems face a heightened risk of trafficking. Up to 60% of child sex trafficking victims have been in foster care, compared to 5% of all U.S. children. Runaways and homeless youth are at risk, too.
The abuse, abandonment and systemic failures that traffickers exploit are why these teens may be guarded or uncooperative when law enforcement or social services try to intervene.
How can we expect them to trust support systems that look like the ones that already failed them?
Adults may also write these teens off because they don’t yet see themselves as victims. They might describe their trafficker as a boyfriend, protector or the only person who’s ever cared for them. That relationship — often called trauma bonding or “Stockholm Syndrome” — is not weakness. It’s a survival response.
That dependence is by design. It’s the trafficker’s manipulation at work. Yet when a girl says she still loves the man who exploited her, too many adults stop listening. People judge the presentation instead of the facts.
Jurors also view younger children as more believable. Teenagers — especially those with past sexual experiences, substance use or “bad attitudes” — are often viewed with suspicion. Their histories become reasons to disbelieve them rather than evidence of the harm they’ve endured.
The cost of that disbelief is high. Without proper support, teens reject counseling, return to unsafe environments, or face arrest for behaviors that are symptoms of trauma. When a child runs away, shuts down, or lashes out, we should ask why — not use it to discredit their testimony.
It’s time to confront our collective reflexes. If we require victims to behave a certain way to deserve our support, we’ll keep failing them. If composure is a prerequisite for compassion, too many children will never experience justice or healing.
There’s no simple policy fix for that. What’s needed is a societal shift. If you sit on a jury, work in media, or talk about these cases with friends, reevaluate who you picture when you hear the word “victim.” Not every survivor will initially be trusting and glad to have help. But as a society, we must recognize their humanity.
Trafficked teens don’t need to be agreeable or grateful. They need to be protected. Before we ask them to trust us, we must give them a reason to do so.
Teresa Huizar is CEO of Washington, D.C.-based National Children’s Alliance, the nation’s network of nearly 1,000 Children’s Advocacy Centers, providing justice and healing through services to child victims of abuse and their families.
