USD Magazine Spring 2020

take his acquired entrepreneurial skills back to his old neighborhood, where he put them to better use. “It was like a responsibility was now on my shoulders to do something with the younger kids who were following in our footsteps,” he says. “We knew what need- ed to be done because we were those peo- ple. We started having meetings in garag- es, rec centers, on the street. I just knew they needed somebody to look up to. That person that I didn’t have.” “You don’t walk down the street and see human traf- ficking. It’s something that happens so under the radar; those that are in it don’t even know they’re in it.” King estimates his nonprofit, Paving Great Futures, has helped thousands of children and adults by either putting them on the right path, or preventing them from taking the wrong one. “Now we use hip-hop as a Trojan horse, to teach them how to be good young men,” he says. “We show adults that their lives are not a waste. We teach them how to apply their entrepreneurial skills to other stuff.” They host an annual hip-hop event, bring- ing rappers and children together for a sem- inar and contest. They hold turkey drives and toy drives that amplify their message on the ground, while impacting countless oth- ers through social media. King also hosts a podcast called Raised in Pimp City and has

design model to target solutions. “We’re doing a lot of exercises in class around empathy,” Heldman says. “Interviewing survivors and stakeholders so we can be better informed about how to help and be more connected as a source of support.” Beck left a lucrative corporate position to found Free To Thrive, a nonprofit that provides legal and social support to human trafficking survivors. She also runs workshops in the community and, with the help of some key partners, puts a human face on the crisis. “With an issue like homelessness, you can walk down the street and see home- less people and know that’s a problem our community needs to address. You don’t walk down the street and see human trafficking,” Beck says. “It’s something that happens so under the radar; those that are in it don’t even know they’re in it.” Beck works hand in hand with lived- experience experts: people who have been in the “game,” as they call it, and now work to make a difference in the lives of those who are still there or at risk of being drawn in. rmand King, a former exploiter, grew up in southeast San Diego, in a neighborhood where he says gang membership was not optional. What started out as his crew of partiers and dancers in early high school led to human trafficking as a logical way to pay the bills — encouraged, he says, by hip-hop lyrics and the 1999 HBO documentary, Pimps Up, Ho’s Down . “I was a member of the crack baby generation. We saw what happened, the devastation to our family and communi- ty,” he says. “We were all lost, with no opportunities and no resources. The documentary showed me another option. We idolized the people in it. Then we start- ed hearing the same pimps in the music.” Being a pimp or a prostitute became cool, King says. The girls thought so, too. “If you weren’t involved in the life, you were scum. And that was across the board, male and female.” His involvement lasted years, including a three-year stint in federal prison for marijuana conspiracy. When he finally quit the game for good, King decided to A

Awareness led to action. Some 30 state and local bills written in its wake men- tioned data revealed in the study. Among the most impactful: a new state law that decriminalized child prostitution and one that mandated the inclusion of sex traf- ficking awareness education in middle and high schools across California. In San Diego, an anti-trafficking curriculum is now offered in elementary schools as well. It’s funded entirely by venture philanthropy and the private sector through a new partnership called the San Diego Trafficking Prevention Collective. USD’s Division of Professional and Con- tinuing Education is providing continuing education units at a reduced cost to teach- ers who train in the curriculum. The model is the first of its kind in the nation. It’s all very encouraging, Carpenter says. But still, she adds, “To this day, the average San Diegan does not know we have a human trafficking problem. And if they do, they still think it’s people being trafficked across the border.” In fact, 80 percent of victims are born in the United States. ow, a bold new initiative, spearheaded by USD’s School of Law and the Kroc School, aims to not only con- tinue increasing awareness, but to bring the university’s considerable resources together in a formal way to combat human trafficking on multiple fronts. “As an institution, USD has had pock- ets of work being done to help address the issue,” says Jessica Heldman ’04 (JD), Fellmeth-Peterson Professor in Residence in Child Rights. “So about a year ago, we began to bring together folks from different schools on campus to talk about how USD could have even more of an impact on this issue.” At the School of Law, attorneys at the Children’s Advocacy Institute had already sponsored key legislation and were involved in the creation of San Diego County’s Resiliency Is Strength and Empowerment Court, conceived specifi- cally to work with child victims of sex trafficking. In the fall of 2019, Heldman teamed up with her colleague, Professor Bridget Gramme ’98 (BA), ’03 (JD), and Jamie Beck ’11 (JD) to offer a semester- long clinic, using a human-centered N

written a book by the same name. “Our reach is gigantic,” he says.

J

aimee Johnson lived the experience from the other side. Her upbringing in northern San Diego was very different from King’s, geographically and socially. “I wasn’t really aware that this whole lifestyle was going on. I would say lack of awareness made me kind of naive to the

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Spring 2020