A note from Moxy Global:
In the spring of 2015, my partner committed suicide in a horse barn. In a sense by doing so, he killed us both that day; turning my safe haven into an inferno of agony. The absence of his love and support stripped me bare of the two demential character I had been hiding behind for seventeen years. Naked of all attachments to the persona and life I had created as a cowgirl and horse trainer, what I discovered at the bottom of the rubble - was a promise I had made to the universe in the fall of 1998.
I was just a sixteen-year-old girl then, on the run from pimps, hookers, and gangs alike. During the days and nights when I should have been revelling in my youth, instead, I was hiding from the world in dark spaces. Both literally and figuratively. My attempt to reach out for support was met with fear and . Which only reinforced the fear conditioning I had been subjected to by pimps and police alike during my indenture to the streets. Mine was a pain that no one wanted to acknowledge. A pain that no one was prepared to understand - not even my family who turned their heads in denial, content to allow me to carry the burden of blame in silence.
The price of freedom for my young body, had come at a cost that was too steep for my child mind to bare. On the verge of running back to my enslavors, out of my mind in pain, I went to bed each night grasping a bloody chef’s knife in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other; begging a god I didn’t believe in for the courage to slice open my own veins.
Instead, a magazine found its way into my hands. In less than 800 words, a girl whose name I will never know, explained her decision to leave prostitution. Although her’s and mine stories were dissimilar in how we managed to escape the streets, she instilled me with a feeling of connection and hope. I knew right then and there, that someone else knew the truth about the terrors of being a hostage to another's greed and desires. I was not alone in my darkness. I made a promise, that one day - I would do the same for another.
Over the years and on the rare occasion the death or arrest of a child prostitute did make social media - I recognized, as I aged and healed, that their reporting accomplished little more than scratching the surface of a growing epidemic. Unintentionally social media was helping the pimps to glamourize the public myth of drug addled Lolita’s and the teenage succubus.
"UNTIL THE LION LEARNS HOW TO WRITE, EVERY STORY WILL GLORIFY THE HUNTER"
~ African Proverb
When I began to look and try different writing processes for my story, I was in Thailand training and fighting in the art of Muay Thai Kickboxing. Despite my desire to give an accounting only, I recognized that not only did I need to come forward, but that my story would help no one if I was not completely honest. I had to be willing to be torn apart, replacing ink with blood, in order to help others and even myself. The memoir set its own pace, found its own tone, and in the voice of the young girl that I had been, each chapter was ripped from me like an exorcism.
Hyper-vigilance as well as hindsight, didn’t just allow for my past come to life on the blank pages set before me. It pushed and pulled me into reliving each moment from all angles as I searched for the words to describe the very true and unfiltered journey that was my experience with Human Trafficking.
Arriving home from Thailand saw me running in circles, trying to keep up with not just my own business training horses, but working a second job as a milker at a Dairy Farm, training in the art of Muay Thai Kickboxing, and maintaining a social life all while writing such a raw book. But the more I wrote, the smaller my world became. When I could no longer leave my bedroom, buried under the weight of my memories, the book had to be placed on hold so that I could work on the area’s in my life that I had been avoiding.
Over the course of a year, I not only revisited but began to understand and work through, that I had been living with sleeping demons such as Stockholm syndrome, co-dependency, abandonment, nightmares of gang rape and ultimately separation of self. Through hard work, multiple visits with specialized kinesiology, martial arts, animal therapy, and spiritual practice I was able to form a new foundation for myself, a fresh beginning - and the idea for MOXY GLOBAL was born.
I wanted not just to share the journey it took to heal myself, but to offer options and most importantly connection with and for those who had been THROUGH IT. Over the course of my life, I had been conditioned in ways that stripped me of my self value, leaving my survival buttons stuck in ON position. Slowly but surely, through hard work, determination, and the help I received through Specialized Kinesiology - I began to re engage with the world, as well as began taking courses in Specialized Kinesiology, with an emphasis on brain integration.
Now, when I turn on the news, I see people lobbying to make a difference for the girl I was, the girls and boys that are out there now, still. Documentaries are being filmed, websites are popping up, laws are being changed, and public awareness is reaching new heights. While I am excited for the book to reach shelves to show others they are not alone, I am even more excited for this website! To help raise awareness among parents on how to share and educate their children about the dangers of the sex slave trade. To open up and bridge an understanding and dialog between survivors and family members. To be able to reach into the isolated mind of a tortured human who is crumbling from the inside out - desperate to feel a connection and offering them someone to sit with.
My hope for this website is that once connection is made - when a person is ready, they will find multiple ways, and people, that will be listed here to help them move forward and claim their life.
Sharing her story...
The Author of HOOKED, Rayanne Kristin Irving, admits, "All I ever wanted as a child was to get lost in the meadows and ride the wings of fairytales. But life had other plans for me. The evil in others has stolen more than its fair share of my innocence and in the bowls of their hell, a fighter was forged. Blood Lust rolled me in its embrace, and in self-defense, I learned how to take a pound of flesh from the Devil himself, smiling wildly with blooded teeth.
But there are times in between the darkest of nights when I can allow myself rest, to tread deep inside the forest of my heart where she remains hidden forever - the little girl. My other self - I feel her soul is soft as velvet, her hope and grace shimmering like a flower petal. She holds my broken pieces together and they slowly mend with her Encouragement. She reminds me of all the beautiful and wondrous things in this world for which I am fighting. She loves me for every shape I have taken in her defense, every fault that has cracked but never shattered."