On January 29, 2025, Shamere McKenzie took center stage at the National Association of Secretaries of State (NASS) Winter Conference. Her speech was nothing short of riveting, a piercing, heartfelt, and unflinching call to action.
McKenzie began not with statistics or jargon, but with a personal and powerful invitation to reflect: “Close your eyes,” she told the crowd of lawmakers and leaders. “Think about your child, your niece, your godchild. Now imagine their innocence being stolen, their freedom being sold, their trauma being criminalized.”
That moment set the tone for a speech that refused to sanitize or soften the brutal reality of human trafficking in the United States.
“Human trafficking,” McKenzie declared, “is not just a distant issue—it is a crisis unfolding in our own backyards.” From truck stops to hotels, gas stations to social media platforms, trafficking is hiding in plain sight. And worse yet, many survivors, like McKenzie herself, are often criminalized instead of protected.
With gut-wrenching honesty, she shared her own story—a journey marked by betrayal, brutal violence, survival, and ultimately, redemption. A college-educated athlete from a middle-class Christian family, she was coerced into trafficking under the false promise of help. What followed was 18 months of unimaginable horror, abuse, and control.
“I was not just trafficked,” she said. “I was enslaved by a gorilla pimp, the most violent kind of trafficker. I was beaten, choked, raped, and told every day that my life had no value.”
Her eventual escape did not bring immediate freedom. Instead, she was arrested and charged under laws meant to protect victims. “The same law created to save girls like me was used to criminalize me,” she recalled. “That betrayal by the system nearly cost me my life.”
And yet, Shamere McKenzie stood on that stage, not just as a survivor, but as what she calls a liberator.
“I am no longer enslaved. I am no longer just surviving. I am here to break chains and build futures.”
Her message was clear: we cannot merely react to trafficking—we must prevent it. Prevention requires engagement, especially with businesses on the frontlines. From transportation to banking, every industry has a role to play. But training alone isn’t enough.
“Survivors are not just statistics. We are experts,” McKenzie emphasized. “And yet, too many programs are created without us at the table. That must change. Survivor engagement is not optional—it is essential.”
She urged Secretaries of State to lead the charge by enacting survivor-informed policies, requiring business compliance with anti-trafficking protocols, and investing in multi-sector partnerships that center lived experience.
“This is not a Democrat or Republican issue. Human trafficking is a human issue. And we all have a role to play.”
As her final words rang through the room, the crowd sat in thoughtful silence—some wiping away tears, others visibly moved to action.
“Let’s not just change policy,” she concluded. “Let’s change lives.”
McKenzie’s appearance at NASS was a powerful reminder that the fight against trafficking is not just about law enforcement or NGOs—it’s about all of us. And with voices like hers leading the way, the future holds the promise of true freedom for those still trapped in the shadows.