The first time I met whats-her-name I was maybe 8 years old and she might've been 13. She had blonde hair with bangs. We were in the kitchen of a house that had been converted to house a Barbershop up front. Making intentionally gross sandwiches and daring each other to eat them. Giggling and making fun as all kids do while having a great time.
You'd never guess she was waiting for some Somalian who'd bought her the day before to come pick her up. Human sex trafficking is strange that way.
I'd imagine that when this topic comes up you get an obvious image in your mind. Sad, dirty, and scared girls held hostage in locked rooms. While I'm sure there are plenty of times when that's accurate, it's not the way I remember it.
They were all “what's-her-name”. I'm terrible for not remembering their real names. However, in my defense, I rarely saw any of them more than once or twice before they moved on to their next stop on the circuit. I didn't understand until I was a bit older what was going on with them and by the time I was able to wrap my head around it, it was just normal.
Sometime later, in that same kitchen, I sat with another what's-her-name arguing about who'd win a fight between He-man and She-ra. She also had blonde hair. It was in pigtails and she was dressed up like a doll in a pink frilly skirt. I was a bit older and she was near my age. We were kinda like co-workers.
Both employed by the same company but working in different departments. I was a mule then, running drugs and money from here to there whenever I was told to. They always used preteens like me because the cops couldn't do much even if we got caught. I had my job and they had theirs.
They were always white girls. Apparently, this market didn't care much about diversity. Even as I got older, the what’s-her-names always stayed the same age. Perfectly groomed for their role. That's why they never seemed like a captive. You probably wouldn't know if you had met any of them randomly. That's because they weren't kidnapped, they were collected.
People think it's mostly runaways who end up like this however that's only partially true. They didn't run away and get snatched, they were tricked beforehand and then ran away as a result. By the time these girls left whatever life they lived, they had already been well-primed. They ran towards their enslavement.
Confused? I'll explain.
The key to this is the “Bottom”. A Bottom was always some really put-together, impossibly cool, teenage girl whose job it was to get these young girls to come on their own. The guys in charge would point her towards one or she'd find them on her own.
The girls they targeted were always from desperately poor areas and the Bottom would befriend them. She'd seem bigger than life to these girls. Going on about how glamorous her life was, and how much freedom she had, all while flashing all of her nice things. To these girls, the Bottom would've seemed like a movie star. Even the men driving her around would make a point to seem like servants any time a target girl saw them. What girl in poverty, often living in broken and toxic homes or in foster care, wouldn't want that?
You see, once these girls ran away, enchanted as they were, they'd be collected and then were slowly introduced to their new life. I only caught glimpses because I had no role in any of this. However, years of being in the periphery eventually allowed me to piece together a full picture.
I never saw the stables themselves yet I frequently encountered the filly's. It always began amazingly. Doing what they want, being spoiled rotten, and being the center of attention all while being introduced to addictive drugs. Then the Bottom, who really was a madam of sorts, would slowly start introducing the cost of this incredible life.
The Bottom would spin it as being easy and even fun. Starting these girls out with low-commitment sexual expectations. As time went on, those expectations became greater while the benefits slowly decreased. Eventually, they were giving all of the former for basically none of the latter.
By the time they were being officially pimped or sold outright, these girls were conditioned to accept that this is where they belong which made resistance almost nonexistent. If you were to corner a what's-her-name and interrogate her about that life, she'd get mad at you for judging and swear it's all her idea. Such was the nature of the programming.
Years later, I was dropping off a bag of money I had just ripped from a drug corner I had robbed when a brunette what's-her-name said hi to me. I was older than this one. I was in my teens now and there wasn't anything left of the innocence I once had when talking with these girls. I said hi too as I dropped the bag on the table and yelled through the house I was back. She asked me, “what's in the bag?” and I spun to snap at her to mind her own business.
Yet, the moment I looked at her I knew there was no point. Her eyes were cast down with a completely submissive demeanor. She was already trained how to act and me speaking angrily probably wouldn't have even registered with her. She was property and being mean to her would've made as much sense as being mean to a table. Sadly, I thought then that I was better than them. I wasn't. I was just being used in a different way.
These weren't kids in chains. That's why it's so hard to spot them. I'm sure there are more definitive accounts than mine from the outside looking in but I can only share what I've seen. I know if you spot a girl who's overly submissive, who checks with someone else before speaking to you, seems absurdly sexual for her age, or seems to have wealth she couldn't possibly justify such as jewelry, shoes, clothing, etc, you might be talking to someone's property.
The last what's-her-name I knew was yet another blonde, seemingly a baby to me though dressed like a grown woman, who was patching me up following a rip gone wrong. The wound was on the back of my head and we didn't even speak to each other the entire time. I didn't like that she was touching me, however, there was no one else to do it.
As I heard the story go, the people running that operation found themselves the target of an FBI sting in the early 2000s. I had long since been gone, years into a prison sentence at this point. I remember hearing they found six girls being trafficked and thinking, “so the feds found basically none of them”.
Ironically, it was men in prison who taught me how disgusting this all was. Unfortunately though, all that actually changed is who owned what's-her-name.
Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author's own.
"...of slaves and souls of men." They too, will have their day in court. Appears they were given a 10-year extension of their lease on life.
How do you literally fight mental illness/psychosis??? Scares the hell out of me!