AnnJanette Alejano-Steele
Co-Founder and Board Chairperson
Laboratory to Combat Human Trafficking

It’s somewhere after midnight post-Launch party, and I should be exhausted. I can’t quite settle down yet, because of all of the amazing things I observed tonight. I’m in a reflective space, appreciative of the energies that went into the evening. I’m thinking about the community support that presented itself in our beautiful space. I’m thinking about Bradley Myles’ recent blog about our LCHT community that is “immersed in good vibes, laughter, engaging discussions, and great energy surrounded by genuinely authentic people.”

Tonight, guests perused our office space, interacted with our computerized learning stations, and contributed to our Action Mural. As importantly, guests talked to each other about the issue of human trafficking on various levels.

I was humbled by the number of people who came to share in our celebration. Anti-trafficking field colleagues. Law enforcement. TAXI neighbors. College and university colleagues and students. Friends. Family. There was this uber-diverse and supportive community celebrating our efforts.

And surrounding us was a collective undercurrent whispering, “Keep going; we’re behind you because this work is necessary.”

This is the essence of sustainability.

Our launch event captured the fine details of our sustainability as a five-year old organization, a product of our intentional collaborations, both in the preparations and the party atmosphere. These details include steadfast optimism, trust, and pulling up as we climb.

Steadfast optimism. In my part of our presentation tonight, I mentioned my entrée into the local anti-trafficking movement that began as a thought: “Let’s see what happens when I approach Amanda to join her in this work.” Through the years, we have persevered as ever-positive optimists, open to possibility, and open to the fact that stumbling blocks created alternate paths to explore. Borrowing words from Derek Siver (2010), much of what we’ve done over the years has included a series of optimistic “tests and trials: an ongoing experiment to see what happens.” Indeed, a lot has happened in our rich history and we were thrilled to share with our guests tonight.

Trust. In the anti-trafficking field, trust is such a core component of the crime, in both negative (criminal) and positive (supportive) ways. At our launch, I could feel the trust that we held in the community. What I felt during today’s events was the implicit trust between our staff members, the trust of our friends and family, and the trust between our anti-trafficking colleagues. And here’s the thing. Trust takes intentional time and patience. Inherently, trust is about conveying “you matter.” Trust is the outcome of follow through. Reliability. Common ground. Humility. And trust-building is also about coffee. Healthy doses of humor. Awesome places to meet for lunch. Debates about Glee.

Pulling up as we climb. I think that when most of us hear “leadership development,” the emphasis is on “leader.” I humbly disagree. I think it’s about “pulling up as we climb,” because what is the use of laying down leadership initiatives if there is nobody to sustain the foundational work? It was great to see younger activists eager to learn tonight. It was great to feature the work of our interns in our leadership development program. This is a shout out to colleagues in my age cohort (yes you, listen up). We need to do our best to take patient time with our mentees. And we must include self-care tools to sustain their work. But that’s worthy of a blog unto itself (stay tuned…promise).

So…it’s about time I closed out the night. As co-founder of LCHT, I appreciated the time everyone took to join us. Thank you for holding us in trust and encouraging us to keep going. I stand alongside Amanda in the invitation to think critically with us in the laboratory and become part of the solution.

Let’s collectively see what happens when we mix your ideas with ours, and let’s keep going in a sustainable way.

Marlena Hartz
Social Media Intern
Laboratory to Combat Human Trafficking

The relationship has always been ambivalent, tinged with resentment, advanced on impulses, marked by a sense of mystery.

I purchased my first cell phone in my senior year of college. All my friends had them, but I didn’t understand the need. More than that, I feared what we might become: discourteous drones obligated to answer phone calls in all places and at all hours, defined by the tiny machines in our pockets. I liked to think of my refrain as a form civil disobedience. Then, I found a new apartment and new roommates who refused to be tethered to a landline. So reluctantly, I bought my first cell phone. I sat on my porch until the sun went down and painstakingly transferred numbers from a tattered phone book into a little device. Today, I don’t leave the house without my cell phone. It’s saved me a hundred times: from flat tires, from crowds that separate me from friends, from detours on strange highways.

A few years later that familiar trepidation crept up again. I’d been a reporter for a daily newspaper in New Mexico for about a year when traditional and new journalism collided. My editor had just invested in a couple handheld video cameras. He called me into a meeting with our publisher and department managers. I assumed we’d talk about my big story. The Board of the community college would announce its next president. The race, between a newcomer and a town native, had been contentious.

“Marlena,” my editor asked, “How would you feel about Dustin following you with a video camera tomorrow to cover the announcement?”

“What?” I balked. “I think that’s a horrible idea. None of my sources will open up if some guy’s lurking around with a camera. No one will talk. No one.”

The next day Dustin followed me around with a camera. All my sources opened up. Unlike me, they embraced the camera’s presence.

Confession No. 1: as an intern at LCHT, one of my primary duties is contributing to our social media campaign. I spend a lot of time as a graduate student of communication contemplating technology, asking how it’s changing the news business and how it’s changing our lives. My Strategic Communications class this quarter often revolves around social media. We talk Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and Flickr. Even these sites, I’ve learned, are now best described as “old school.” The telltale sign: my mom just opened a Facebook account. Innovative social media venues, such as Foursquare and Meetup, and brilliant ways to use them seem to spring up every day.

Confession No. 2: I still find technology dizzying. A team of four LCHT interns and staff met last week to discuss how to cover an anti-trafficking conference in Colorado Springs. We agreed we should do some live tweeting from the event. Comedy ensued.

Me: “Is is twittering or tweeting? I still can’t figure that one out.”
No answer. Discussion moves on to other matters.

LCHT Staff Member No. 1: “We should make sure there’s an Internet connection available at the conference site.”
Me: “Yeah, like Wi-Fi, or whatever it’s called?”
Silence.

LCHT Staff Member No. 2 to me: “Can’t you just tweet from your phone?”
Me: “My phone doesn’t have that capacity.”

As usual, I’m a slow to move with the times, still a print journalist at heart who’s exploring a pretty foreign landscape. Given all that, it’s surprising: the more I learn about social media, the more I like it. I seem to have landed in the right place, too, since LCHT embraces experimentation.

Gil Scott-Heron told us the revolution would not be televised in 1971. I wonder, will it be digitized?

I don’t think social media can replace the durability of relationships formed face-to-face or old-fashioned mobilization like marches, sit-ins, or boycotts. But it has power.

On the first day of class, my strategic communications professor prompted us to consider the recent Target scandal. Fittingly, we’ve been documenting it as a class on our communal blog. This June, news that the retail giant donated $150,000 to a group tied to a senator who opposes same-sex marriage went viral. Progressive consumers vented online, calling for action on blogs and Facebook pages. Employees vented on the same venues. Some 78,000 people joined an anti-Target Facebook page launched to encourage store boycotts. Target Ain’t People – the catchy YouTube video of a musical protest at a Target store – attracted more than 1.2 million viewers. In August, Target CEO Gregg Steinhafel publicly apologized for the store’s political misstep. That’s powerful. Yet, so are other forces working to dismantle Internet democracy. According to The Huffington Post, Facebook administrators recently blocked key functions of the anti-Target site. It proves advocates of social change need to work hard to maintain and fortify the digital ground they’ve won.

I’m getting more and more excited about my social media assignments at LCHT. I’m starting to think like a chemist. Virtual activism and on-the-ground activism are like red and white phosphorus on the tip of a match.

Together, I believe they have the power to combat human trafficking and incite tangible social change.

To join in the conversation with LCHT on social media, "Like" us on our Facebook page and follow us on Twitter. You can also find some of our other social media outlets in the footer of our website. Just scroll to the bottom of this page and click on any of the links under "Social Community."