I spent my childhood being trafficked for sex. When I was five years old, I was raped by my stepfather and uncle. Soon, my stepfather began to pass me around to his friends. This quickly escalated into strangers paying my stepfather for time with me and eventually being sold to a larger client base across multiple states.

Tomorrow, the movie adaptation of “global phenomenon” Fifty Shades of Grey will be released in theaters, after selling more than 100 million books worldwide. Fifty Shades of Grey, billed as “romantic erotica,” tells the fictitious story of a Seattle billionaire who enlists a woman to be an object of his degrading and violent sexual acts.

Several years ago, I was sitting on my couch, enjoying the silence that only a parent of small children can appreciate. The digital clock on our DVD player told me I was up too late, but the stillness of that hour was a refuge to my ears and soul. The silence was immediately interrupted by the sound of our sliding glass door being unlatched.

Tonight, hundreds of children and thousands of women are being exploited for commercial sex in our city. Night after night, in hotel rooms, in area homes, and in cars parked along our city streets, girls and young women are raped for profit.

Growing up, despair felt like my closest companion. Most days, I felt invisible and unknown. My dad struggled through deep depression and bouts of mania, suicide attempts and hospitalizations, and the consequent guilt and shame.