His Precious Daughter

“The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.” Ferdinand Foch

When I think about survivors shaping the world through advocacy, this quote feels less like poetry and more like truth lived out in real time.

A survivor’s soul on fire is not fueled by anger alone…though anger has its place. It is fueled by truth. By clarity. By a refusal to let what tried to silence us have the final word. Survivors know what systems overlook, what policies ignore, and what harm looks like when it hides behind legality, normalization, or convenience. When survivors step into advocacy, they don’t speak in theory. They speak from the scars that healed into wisdom.

That is power.

Survivors don’t just demand change…we shape it. We bring lived experience into rooms where decisions are made without us. We reframe narratives that once blamed us. We expose injustice not because we studied it, but because we survived it. And when one survivor stands up, it ignites courage in others. Fire spreads that way.
What the world often misunderstands is this: survivor advocacy is not about being stuck in the past. It is about redeeming it. It is about refusing to let pain be wasted. It is about transforming suffering into something that protects, educates, and liberates others.

And here is the teaching I carry in my heart:
Pain will either imprison you or propel you, but purpose is what determines the direction.
Turning pain into purpose does not mean rushing healing or pretending wounds didn’t hurt. It means listening for what your story is trying to teach you. It means asking, “How can this serve someone else?” It means allowing God to take what was meant to destroy you and repurpose it for good…just as Scripture promises.

We are told that what the enemy meant for harm, God will use for our good. Not just despite it, but through it.

And joy? Joy is not denial. Joy is defiance. Joy is choosing to live fully, love deeply, and advocate boldly without bitterness chaining your future to your past. Joy is the evidence that healing has taken root.

When survivors lead with truth, with purpose, and with joy, the fire becomes unstoppable.
Nothing is wasted. Not the pain. Not the tears. Not the long nights. Not the survival.
A human soul on fire: refined, redeemed, and rooted in purpose…can change the world.

There is a quiet grief that lives in me right now now, not loud, not dramatic, but steady. It’s the kind of grief that doesn’t come from losing something I once had, but from never quite receiving the thing I’ve longed for in the first place. Ambiguous loss has a way of doing that. It leaves no funeral, no closure, no clear moment where you can say this is where it ended. It just lingers.

When I hear Jordan Davis’s “Next Thing You Know,” I feel the ache of a life that was supposed to unfold in soft milestones…love that grows roots, shared laughter, ordinary days that quietly turn into forever. That song carries the dream of being chosen, of being partnered, of being witnessed as life moves forward. And yet, what echoes louder in my lived experience is the chorus of Ella Langley’s “Choosing Texas”…the leaving, the independence, the self-reliance, the strength forged not by being held, but by having to hold myself.

That contrast has shaped my experience of dating and love. I have loved deeply. I have hoped earnestly. And still, I have not been met in the way my heart has quietly waited for…the way that says, I see you, I choose you, let me care for you the way you care for everyone else. Carrying the weight of the world, of advocacy, of survival, of motherhood, while not having a safe place to rest emotionally… that kind of loneliness settles into the bones.

There are moments when the absence feels louder than anything else. The absence of someone asking how I am and meaning it. The absence of being softened by love rather than sharpened by responsibility. The absence of being held…not because I am strong, but because I am human.

And still… I remain.

I live in acceptance of what is without surrendering the hope of what could be. My mission matters. Raising my daughter matters. The work I do, the lives I touch, the healing I help create – it all matters. I stay spiritually fit because I know joy doesn’t only come wrapped in romance. It comes in purpose. In faith. In moments of peace that arrive quietly and unexpectedly. In laughter with my child. In knowing that my life has meaning even in the waiting.

Hope, for me, is no longer naïve…it is resilient. It doesn’t demand immediate fulfillment. It simply whispers, Maybe someday. And until that day, I continue to choose life as it is now: grounded, honest, lonely at times, but still open. Still believing that my childhood dream of love…real love…can arrive later without invalidating the fullness of the life I’ve already built.

This is where I am: holding space for grief and gratitude at the same time. Accepting the quiet ache. Walking forward anyway with a smile. And trusting that joy, in whatever form it comes, is still allowed to find me. Until then…cheers.

Being an advocate is deeply meaningful to me today. The truth is…advocacy often starts in the quiet moments. It starts when someone is finally believed. When a door is opened. When a safe place is offered without judgment….with this environment, hope grows into the belief of possibility while courage moves us into action.

Looking back,…I never imagined that the most painful chapters of my life could someday fuel a mission to protect others. I never saw myself as particularly brave and advocacy wasn’t a role I sought, it was simply something I grew into out of necessity. I spoke up because silence was no longer an option. I kept going because I met others who had endured far worse and deserved far better. It became a solution to consistent barriers that needed breaking down, and an attitude of perseverance and lack of willingness to take no for an answer.

Advocacy, to me, is also about walking alongside others, not in front of them, gently leading and clearing the path just enough so they can move forward with dignity, power, and choice. It’s about changing broken and flawed systems, and rewriting the narratives we’ve been told about who deserves safety and freedom.

There’s still so much work to do, but today, I pause to reflect with gratitude. I am grateful to have had enough resilience left after the pause in my suffering to turn it around into resistance of the acceptance of things as they are, and the belief in a world that can’t be changed. I’m blessed to have gained a community of others like myself where together we fight for a world where the advocacy we do is no longer necessary, and I’m not in this alone. Some days are more tiring than others, but I pray I never lose my fire, nor stop listening to the spirit that guides it all. I pray that I carry the hope forward with purpose, so I may continue to fight until every person has the freedom, the safety, and the dignity they deserve.

Early childhood sexual abuse and then rape by the age of 14 pushed my fragile mind and vulnerable body into the arms of exploitation after running away from home at 15. Over the next 17 years, I experienced both labor and sex  trafficking, commercial sexual exploitation, domestic violence, and servitude. I was labor trafficked 3 times before the age of 18, and as an adult, due to my grooming and volnurability to sexual exploitation, by the age of 21 I had fallen deeply into commercial sexual exploitation through legal chanels of prostitution via strip clubs and escort services. I nearly lost my life at the hands of sex buyers on more than one occasion during this period. I was trapped in a system of prostitution that I thought I could control, but in truth, I was nothing more than an object for sale. Nothing more than a body to be used by men as they saw fit…..but I learned very young that that’s what men want.
When money changed hands, I was expected to comply with every whim and desire, and it never truly felt like consent. If I refused to comply, I was beat or strangled, and then finally…at the age of 22… left for dead. As an adult adapted to my life, I had fleeting moments of false empowerment as I could sometimes have the final say in who, what, when, and where….but this wasn’t empowerment,….it was SURVIVAL…and then finally….through legal avenues of sexual exploitation, I was trafficked again…only this time for sex. I escaped after another near death experience at the hands of a buyer and walked away from that industry entirely….only to fall victim to DV and then labor trafficking once more and forced servitude. This time…taken across state lines all over the US. Now 30 years old, stuck in this life I thought I could not escape, pregnant and hopeless, my only way out was to try and take my life.

My whole life until this point, I  felt as if I was screaming inside for something to change, for a real chance at a life of happiness…whatever that was. I did not know..nor could Idare to dream of my life ahead far removed…but I survived…and at last…I made it out…for as a young mother…I had to find a way to keep my baby girl safe…so a month before her first birthday, I found an out after another beating, and I fled and never looked back.

Today I barely recognize the woman and girl I once was, for I found myself with real purpose…that of being a mother, and that purpose grew not only to protect her, but now to safegaurd ever other woman and girl finding themselves abandoned by systems that were meant to keep them safe, and cast aside by those they loved, left to be used for sexual gratification by the rest of the world that feeds off of their loss, volnurability, and pain.
For far too long, we’ve let people view sex trafficking and prostitution as something separate or as a vitimless or non serious crime, but not as a form of gender-based violence. Not as inherently harmful as it is. Making excuses for those who benefit the most when legislation ignores our pleas and looks the other way. In reality it’s, extreme violence against women and girls like me, and until laws like the survival model are passed, we will continue to be abused and lose our lives while society turns a blind eye to its complicity as it allows perpetrators to go unchecked. Too long these systems have revictimised by adding blame on the exploited and enough is enough. We have had enough. We are dying out here.

The survivor model is the way, and it doesn’t just provide exit from exploitation, but assistance  with funding for victim support straight from the pockets that purchased us and relieves financial burden from the state. It ensures that there are stronger legal tools to target the predators who think they can buy and sell human lives. It also educates our communities and breaks down the normalization of one of the oldest forms of oppression of women and girls.

Hear us now. We can not waste any more time debating the difference between sex trafficking and the harms of prostitution or whether or not there is agency in it, because while you do….we keep dying. DO NO HARM. Listen to survivors and send a clear message to victims that they are heard, seen, and valued.

I’m am long past the pain of what I’ve endured but I’m still screaming inside…only now from the frustration I feel at all the ears that refuse to hear the truth about the harms of prostitution and other forms of exploitation. I’m calling out for help from all of you now… all of you in seats that have the power to offer us hope and safety. I’m calling out for all the Me’s out there still fighting to survive. HELP US. SAVE US. RESCUE US. For those still stuck, do not know the way.

If you knew what I’ve been through,
You’d know why I care so deeply.
If you knew what I’d had to do to stay alive,
You’d know why I fight so hard.
If you knew what I’ve faced,
You’d know why I never stop trying.
If you knew what I have lost,
You’d know why I give as I do.
If you knew how I’ve lived,
You’d understand my tired eyes at times.
But If you knew how I survived,
Then you’d know why I love Him so much

…and how now I thrive.

When I start thinking about us, i start thinking in these narrow tunnels…tunnels that block everything out accept you and me and this growing devotion for you that I feel…and none of the day to day problems seem to matter….you see….it’s because of you that I drop fragments of my emotions everywhere I walk with each smile from my thoughts of you…..that everywhere I go and no matter where I am I feel like it will always be a part of us….for loneliness and despair has faded away and turned to Jubel…hope floats freely with every new step forward….and this…this worship i feel trickling through every fiber of my being…warming my viens, flowing all around as I pass by every place I have been with you and hope to be…leaving a mark in this world that’s lost its belief in love….rewiring my memories….reminding me of possibility…as you’ve moved my heart to want to pursue this life with you…to honor you and bring you glory…so here I am waiting…your extravagant gift…egar and hopeful…charged by your care…drawing out my future on your word….and with your breath in my lungs…I’m grateful as far as the east is to the west for you see me…you see me dressed in white…

When your life shatters, it’s like staring back at yourself through a broken mirror, it takes time to pick up the pieces and glue them back together.

In the beginning it’s hard to imagine that you could even do it. The pain cuts so deeply, but you will gather the strength to face the feelings and sift through the brokenness.

You can not however ignore it, for your edges will be left sharp, hurting not only you, but those who come into contact with you. So facing it is your main priority no matter how long it takes.

It’s okay to take your time. Stop and allow the feelings to be and then keep moving. Keep binding. When you feel you can’t go on, the need for survival will push you forward…

This is your time for growth, and there is no time limit. Just start with the first clear piece in front of you.

As you begin to bind the pieces you will see other areas needing improvement, and when it’s finally done, the mirror (your perspective) is not the same. It is now fortified leaving more room to build new life.

You now have multiple lenses to see through, and you can begin to be grateful for the disruption in your life, though painful, that brought you to this new point…the realization of who you really are, and who you can be. A stronger version of you filled with lines of unique character exposing, not weaknes, but courage, wisdom, and beauty. In the end you will see it was necessary.

Marjorie Saylor 5/3/21

When the memories past no longer haunt your every wish , the heart can beat again.
Gentle whispers of laughter tickling your cheek, add a spring to your step.
Hopes snuffed flame burns again, and trust comes knocking once more.
Courage pulls you forward, as confidence embraces anew.
The lungs new life rhythm sets the tone for an imperfect and exciting dance.
It carries on each learning step, growing bold…..into the night…..on into eternity.
Dance……dance……dance…..for you’re walking free.

7/24/19

We’ve been spining gleefully dancing together above the clouds. You’ve spun me left and right with your laughter and your charm. Your lifes song is loud and confident, mixing well with mine. I’ve been gladly following suit looking to you with anticipation of what steps might come next, trusting in your lead…excited by the newness of it all, waiting to see what new steps I can learn….what new sound will I hear as our symphonies entwine together… deeper and deeper…. but…somehow a fog is setting in and I lose my grip on your hand and can’t see clearly anymore which direction to turn for our dance. Our song is growing muffled…I can hardly see you anymore. For you are stuck in a step of uncertainty, hearing another tune distracting you perhaps…..not sure which move you want to make with me. Hopeful, I think we will make it through till the sun is clearly guiding us again and our symphony sounds burst through the haze….so…I keep spinning and dancing on my own, calling out for you to join…you don’t hear me though, and I stumble and fall off the edge starting my decent off of cloud nine, back to a reality that you might not have been the one, but just another brief change in my tune. I’m walking away to continue my own dance now. My lifes old song is playing sweetly in the distance,…. but, all I can hear is the missing music note that could make it complete.

These bars…..gilded….but stained with the many colors of experience….looking through the cracks…searching…so many different emotions flow through each day…the door to my lifes cage is open though…as it has always been…. only stuck by the fear to rebel against my own rules…comfortable in the luxury of being on my own….but underneath it all….trying to find the courage to allow myself to feel safe enough to really love and trust again…..each time I venture out the doorway….I’m knocked back in by the residue of past betrayal bonds….and I can not leave…..grasping at the hope of life, love, and the opportunities I see outside of this pre-written repeating script…the smell of real connection so near….a whole family…I can almost taste it…..my season of relational rest and security……a form of freedom unknown to me…so…for now…..no escape I see to truly claim what I want…so I wait…..feeling stuck in a pattern of self sacrifice and empathy….caring for the needs of those dependent on me…..loving that giving part of me…because….I’m lucky to have a heart that cares…..but at the same time….wishing for a different life…. hearing the call from above…I stay….charged with my orders to serve….not your time yet I hear….again and again…..a lady in waiting…..someday it will be my turn….dressed in white…cared for…..pursued…cherished….pulled from the mundane…..dancing in the freedom I’ll never stop chasing….and finally….that day…..the Cinderella in me…. will be free.