15
From Clubs to Gangs

I had gotten free once again from those invisible chains that tried to keep me bound to abuse, drugs, and human trafficking, a life of misery and disrespect for myself.

I’m grateful to God that I never had to go into a rehab, which is unusual. God did a miracle for me. I prayed and the desire for cocaine left me. People who know the power of that addiction know that is a big, big deal. Few of us are able to kick the habit the way I did, but with God, all things are possible.

As I reviewed my life, I realized what a mess I had made of it. I was barely sixteen years old, a high school dropout, and had been lured into sex trafficking three times.

Jan, who had been my support system, was placed in foster care. I started reconnecting with former schoolmates by clubbing—that is, going to teen clubs. No one there used drugs, at least not that I saw. But they were into alcohol even though they couldn’t buy it there. Before they went to one of the clubs, they’d find older people to buy booze for them. It wasn’t long before I was part of that. Often we were drunk by the time we got to the clubs.

Running around with gangs who robbed and fought with other gangs became part of my lifestyle. Instead of trying to fit into what I would have called a hostile environment, I went where people would accept me. That was with gangs.

Then I met Al. He was part of the Thirty-Second Street Gang and hung around Miami in a rough part of town. One time I went to visit Al in his neighborhood. Another gang was having a problem with the Thirty-Second Street Gang, and they came toward us. It was obvious an altercation was going to take place and they would shoot at each other.

Just then, I heard the voice of God. I often wonder why the Lord would speak to me in such terrible places, even though I didn’t listen.

But God spoke yet again—like a shout inside my head: Walk across the street. Walk across the street and talk to those girls.

That didn’t make sense. I hardly knew them and couldn’t think of anything to say, but the voice was so strong, I couldn’t resist. In the past I’d heard and obeyed that inner voice, and it had always been right.

I started across. I had barely reached the curb when a car raced by. Gang members inside the car started firing at the group where I had been standing.

Al fell to the pavement. I ran back to him. Someone called 911 and they took him to the hospital.*

As I watched the ambulance take Al away, I said to myself, “This is the end of my hanging around with gangs. If God hadn’t told me to cross the street, I might have been hit as well. Maybe killed.”

I soon found out Al had lots of girls, and I was just another one. He didn’t really care about me. Once more, the truth was hard to take. I was being used again, and that was the end of my hanging around with gangs.

Realizing God had protected me from being shot and then learning about Al’s other girls made it easy for me to leave.

As bad as I feel about that terrible lifestyle, I remind myself that God has used that experience and knowledge so I can help others by my understanding the dynamics of what those kids go through. I had been one of them—someone on the inside, unlike those on the outside who don’t understand that dangerous, hate-filled, competitive environment.

I didn’t go back to the gangs, but if I couldn’t be with Al, the guy I thought I loved, what should I do? The depression became so bad, I again struggled with suicidal thoughts. I’m no good; nobody really loves me. Who will miss me? Mom will be better off if I’m dead anyway.

I told Mom that I wanted to commit suicide. I told her I had gone as far as trying to slit my wrists, but one nick of the razor blade was enough. I couldn’t stand the blood, so I stopped. “I thought of taking four Tylenols to kill myself,” I confessed. “I’m a mess and don’t know what to do. I don’t want to live anymore. Jan is gone, all my friends are gone, and I hate my life.”

Going back to the old life wasn’t an option, but where was the new way of life? Where could I find peace and some measure of happiness?

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*Al recovered from the gunshot wound, but I never saw him again.