He didn’t ask for a toy or candy or for a fun trip somewhere. He begged us to adopt him. This little boy is living in a shelter for children who have been removed from their homes because of abuse, neglect, and exploitation. Some of the children have even been trafficked in the form of being sexually abused in exchange for drugs or for rent, food, or clothing by the very people who are supposed to love and protect them. Imagine being a child and having no one you can trust. No safe place to sleep. No certainty about where you’ll be tomorrow. No idea when the next person is going to hurt you. No assurance that the adults in your life will protect you rather than hurt you. For this particular little boy, this is the only reality he knows. His mother is trapped in the devastating grip of drug addiction. She survives from one motel room to another, sometimes exchanging sex for the money needed to put a roof over their heads for another night. When there is no money for a room, they have to find somewhere else to sleep. This child has grown up never knowing from one night to the next in which unsafe place he’ll try to fall asleep. Think about what that does to a child’s developing brain. Children are supposed to spend their days learning, playing, discovering their gifts, and dreaming about their futures. They’re supposed to feel safe enough to laugh, relax, and simply be children. Instead, this little boy is learning to survive in a very scary, abusive world. Like other children who grow up in dysfunctional and abusive families, he has learned the survival skills of watching people’s faces and gestures for signs of danger. He’s learned to stay alert always. Even when he sleeps, he tries to make sure his back is against a wall, and when touched, he wakes up swinging. He has learned to protect himself because no one else does. When survival is all you’ve ever known, safety can feel like something that exists only for other people. After all this, he was finally removed from his mother. You might think that being placed in a shelter would mean he was finally safe. Unfortunately, that’s not always the case. Across our country, there are children with extraordinary needs and nowhere appropriate for them to go. There simply aren’t enough foster homes, especially for children who have endured significant trauma. Some end up living in group settings where older, bigger children bully, threaten, and sometimes abuse younger, more vulnerable children when staff members aren’t looking. Imagine escaping one dangerous situation only to find yourself in another. Imagine being surrounded by people but still feeling frightened and alone. That’s where we met this little boy. Our Alliance for Child Protection educator had come to the shelter to teach children about healthy relationships, personal boundaries, the tricks predators use, and how to recognize when someone is trying to manipulate or exploit them. These are lessons that many children learn naturally in safe, loving homes. But what if you’ve never experienced a healthy relationship? What if the people who told you they loved you were also the people who hurt you? What if you’ve been taught that keeping secrets, tolerating abuse, and doing whatever an adult demands are simply the price of having somewhere to sleep? How do you recognize a predator when predatory behavior is all you’ve ever known? That’s why our work matters so much. We teach children that their bodies belong to them. That love doesn’t require secrecy, fear, humiliation, or exploitation. That they have the right to say no. That there are adults who will listen, believe them, and help them. Most importantly, we show them what a safe, caring adult looks like. And sometimes, something extraordinary happens. A child who has spent his entire life protecting himself begins to lower his guard. He starts listening. He starts trusting. He begins to imagine that maybe, just maybe, there could be a different kind of life. And then he looks at the person teaching him about safety and begs her to adopt him. Not because she promised him anything. Not because she offered him gifts. But because, for perhaps the first time in his young life, he encountered an adult who made him feel safe. Can you imagine the desperation behind that request? Can you imagine how badly a child must want to escape his circumstances that he would beg someone he has only recently met to take him home? It breaks my heart. But it also reinforces why we do what we do. At the Alliance for Child Protection, we often talk about teaching children to recognize the five tricks predators use, the warning signs of exploitation, and the importance of telling a trusted adult. We are educating children to recognize danger, establish boundaries, use their voices, and seek help. But we know something else from decades of experience with children who have been abused. Before a child can tell a trusted adult, that child has to believe a trustworthy adult actually exists. For children who have been betrayed by the people closest to them, that belief can be difficult to develop. That’s where relationships change everything. We’ve had children run away from shelters and then text us to ask when we’re coming back. Think about that. These are children who have fled the very facilities intended to protect them. Yet they reach out to our educators and say, in essence, “Tell me when you’ll be there again, because I want to see you.” They’re not asking for another lesson. They’re asking for a connection. They’re asking to be remembered. They’re asking whether someone cares enough to come back. And that tells us something profoundly important about preventing child trafficking and exploitation. Prevention isn’t just about teaching children how to recognize predators. It’s also about helping them recognize people they can trust. A child who feels invisible, unwanted, or unloved is especially vulnerable to someone who offers attention, affection, belonging, or a place to sleep. Predators know this. They search for unmet needs and exploit them. They offer what appears to be love to children who are desperate to be loved. They offer protection to children who have never felt protected. They offer belonging to children who have never truly belonged anywhere. And then they use those promises to manipulate and control. If we want to prevent children from falling for those tricks of traffickers, we must do more than warn them about “tricky” people. We must surround them with good people. People who consistently show up. People who listen without judgment. People who teach them that healthy relationships don’t involve coercion, threats, secrecy, or abuse. People who help them understand that what happened to them was wrong and that they deserve better. We cannot undo the trauma these children have endured. We cannot promise every child a loving adoptive family. And we cannot fix a child welfare system that is overwhelmed by the number of children who need safe, stable homes simply by delivering a prevention lesson. But we can make a difference in the life of a child. I know, because I was one of those children. I know that when one person looks into your eyes and listens to what you have to say, the wall of protection build around your heart begins to come down. I know from those who did that for me that the authentic concern that follows can heal a wounded heart. I suspect it’s one of the only things that can. We can teach a child that being hurt or exploited is not normal, even if it’s all they’ve ever experienced. We can help a child find the courage to tell someone what’s happening. And we can be a consistent, trustworthy presence in the life of a child who has learned not to trust anyone. Sometimes, that connection is the beginning of a different future. It was for me. And it can be for every child we reach. No one changed my circumstances. No one adopted me. No one shielded me from abuse. But the trusted people in my life believed in me. They saw good in me that I didn’t know was there. The connections with those people informed my life decisions and ultimately led me to believe in my own ability to protect and care for myself. I keep thinking about that little boy. I wonder how many nights he lay awake, frightened, wondering when he would eat next and where he would sleep. I wonder how many times he wished someone would come and rescue him. I wonder what he felt when he finally encountered someone kind enough that he dared to ask the question that was probably always in his heart: “Will you adopt me?” Every child deserves to be safe. Every child deserves to be loved. Every child deserves at least one trustworthy adult who will show up, listen, and protect them. And no child should ever have to beg for those things. At the Alliance for Child Protection, our mission is simple: We reach children before predators do. But for children who have already experienced abuse, exploitation, and unimaginable betrayal, our mission means something more. We want them to know that their past does not have to determine their future, and that they are worthy of love, dignity, and protection. And that there are people who care if they are safe tonight. Sometimes the most powerful thing we can give a child isn’t another program, another pamphlet, or another lesson. It’s the experience of being seen, heard, and valued by someone who genuinely cares. I pray that someday, every child will have what they deserve: Someone who loves them. A place to sleep safely and peacefully. And the safe people who will guide them to create a good life. Rhonda Sciortino is a former foster child, author, and child advocate with more than 35 years of experience in child welfare. She is co-founder of the Alliance for Child Protection, a nonprofit organization dedicated to preventing child trafficking and exploitation through education
