December 17 is a day of remembrance - but it has always been more than mourning.

Solidarity is not abstract - it’s something you practice.

If Tamar makes church folks squirm, Lot’s daughters practically blow the doors off the Sunday School classroom. Their story in Genesis 19 is short, shocking, and often whispered about: two sisters who got their father drunk and conceived children by him.

The Power of Creation in the Face of Erasure Art has always been one of the fiercest weapons of survival for sex workers. When our histories are erased, art rewrites them. When the world refuses to see us, art makes us visible. When grief threatens to swallow us whole, art transforms it into something we can hold, share, and use to fight back. On December 17, as we remember those taken by violence, we also honor the beauty and power that emerge from within our communities - t

For many sex workers, “family” is not a word that brings comfort. Too often, biological families, faith communities, and social institutions turn their backs on us. Some reject us for the work we do, others for our gender, sexuality, or survival choices. What’s left behind is a painful truth: sometimes, the people who were supposed to love us unconditionally are the first to abandon us.

In every conversation about sex work - whether it’s policy, research, or “rescue” - one question should guide us: who is speaking, and who is missing?

For most people, safety means calling 911, trusting social services, or turning to institutions for protection. For sex workers, those options often don’t exist - or worse, they make things more dangerous.

Too often, when sex workers make the news, it’s because of tragedy. The headlines focus on loss, sensationalize violence, and erase the person behind the story.

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.

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

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.

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

When you give to SWOP Behind Bars, you’re not just donating — you’re investing in someone’s comeback story. You’re helping people move from surviving to thriving: from waiting on a bunk in county jail to stability, from a DOC number to a driver’s license, from isolation to connection.

Labor trafficking doesn’t always involve chains or cages. Sometimes it looks like contracts written in legalese, passports held just out of reach, or threats veiled as “rules.” It’s coercion in a cocktail dress. It’s violence dressed up as opportunity.

When you hear the name Delilah, you probably picture the ultimate seductress - the sultry femme fatale who batted her eyelashes, whispered sweet nothings, and single-handedly brought down Israel’s strongest man.

When it comes to “bad girls of the Bible,” Eve takes the crown as the original troublemaker. She’s the woman who - according to centuries of sermons, paintings, and pop theology - single-handedly ruined paradise.