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Say the name Jezebel, and most people immediately picture the ultimate bad girl of the Bible—the woman so scandalous she got her own eternal insult.

What happens when sex workers seek justice? Too often, the system betrays them. Reports are dismissed before evidence is even reviewed. Investigations stall without explanation. Prosecutions - if they happen at all - are token gestures that rarely result in accountability. Courts treat sex workers as unreliable witnesses or, worse, as criminals. When families of murdered sex workers plead for justice, they encounter indifference, closed doors, and coded language about “lifest

Stigma is a shadow that follows sex workers everywhere—often more destructive than the law itself.

For many people, laws are supposed to protect. For sex workers, laws often do the opposite. Criminalization - whether full, partial, or through the so-called “Nordic model” - creates conditions that make violence more likely, not less.

Violence against sex workers doesn’t just happen in a vacuum. It is created and sustained by the systems around us - criminalization, stigma, and neglect.

December 17 is recognized worldwide as the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers—a day of remembrance, resistance, and solidarity.

Tamar doesn’t usually make it into Sunday School flannelgraph sets. Her story in Genesis 38 is messy, scandalous, and uncomfortable for anyone who wants the Bible to be a neat moral guidebook. She was Judah’s daughter-in-law, widowed twice, promised security but denied it, and ultimately forced to take matters into her own hands.

In New Orleans, Calvin Duncan - a man who spent 30 years incarcerated for a murder conviction later vacated - has just been elected clerk of criminal court. His victory isn’t just historic; it’s a reminder that the people most harmed by the criminal legal system often understand its failures better than anyone else. 

There’s a story making headlines again - a powerful man, a teenage girl, and a media cycle eager to flatten everything into a tidy narrative about “trafficking.” But when you read past the outrage and into the details, something else becomes painfully clear: this isn’t a story about sex work.

Every few years, the anti-trafficking field releases another report diagnosing its own dysfunction. The Safehouse Project’s recent white paper is the latest to outline the emotional toll of the work, the predictable cycles of vicarious trauma, low wages, inconsistent leadership, and the churn that destabilizes survivor support. 

If you’ve ever heard Rehab’s name in church, it almost always comes with a label:  “Rehab the prostitute.”  Out of all the things she did, all the roles she played, the one word attached to her forever is her occupation.

As we move toward December 17 - the 22nd Annual International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers - we remember those we’ve lost and honor the fight that continues.

Say the name Bathsheba, and most people picture a beautiful woman bathing on a rooftop, luring poor King David into sin. She’s been cast for centuries as the biblical seductress - the woman who tempted a man after God’s own heart.

Let’s be honest - love ain’t always what we see online. It’s not matching outfits, perfect smiles, or those “couple goals” reels that make everything look flawless.

Let’s talk about hunger.

If you grew up in church, you probably remember the Samaritan woman from John 4—the one who meets Jesus at a well, has “five husbands,” and is living with a man who isn’t her husband. Cue the Sunday School whisper: immoral… loose… fallen.

What if the power to end violence wasn’t locked inside a politician’s office or a police budget - but sitting right in your hands?

The morning after the 2025 election feels a little like waking up after a storm - the sky’s clearer, but the debris is still everywhere.

A government shutdown happens when Congress fails to pass a spending bill to fund federal operations. When that money freezes, so do the programs it supports - including SNAP and WIC. This shutdown began on October 1, 2025, after Congress couldn’t agree on a budget. For people like me, that means one thing: No benefits. No safety net. No food.

When people hear the name Mary Magdalene, the mental Rolodex usually lands on one of three words: prostitute, fallen, sinner.