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Woman Rising: Surviving Human Trafficking

Woman Rising is a long-term photographic and short film documentary that follows Cary Stuart, a survivor of human trafficking in Maine, as she rebuilds her life after seven years of exploitation and incarceration for crimes committed under coercion.

The project reveals how broken systems allow trafficking to persist. Poverty, isolation, and gaps in social support shape daily life for many, and Cary’s story reflects the wider struggles of communities affected by domestic violence, foster care, and housing insecurity. It captures the delicate journey of starting over, restoring dignity, and finding stability after trauma.

Maine’s opioid crisis, geographic isolation, and social service gaps have made the state a quietly active corridor for trafficking, a place where hardship is constant and often unseen. Through Cary’s journey, Woman Rising exposes this hidden crisis and challenges the assumption that trafficking happens only elsewhere.

Woman Rising asks us to confront how our communities and systems contribute to or prevent exploitation.

Cary Stuart stands at the threshold of her childhood home in Kennedy Park, a neighborhood nestled in East Bayside, Portland, Maine.

From Vulnerability to Survival

This image marks the beginning of Cary’s story and also the beginning of a reckoning with the systems that failed her and countless others.

Cary Stuart stands at the threshold of her childhood home in Kennedy Park, a low-income neighborhood in East Bayside, Portland, Maine. Once a familiar place of innocence, this doorway now represents a stark divide between who she was and who she had to become to survive. Portland, like many urban centers in the U.S., is grappling with deepening social and economic challenges. Rising housing costs, widening inequality, a growing opioid crisis, and limited access to comprehensive healthcare and social support all create conditions in which vulnerability thrives.

Cary’s early life was marked by instability, fractured trust, and deep trauma. The wounds are both visible and hidden. These scars set the stage for the difficult path ahead, where addiction and exploitation threatened to consume her. Even in the darkest moments, seeds of resilience remained.

Hidden Wounds

Cary Stuart gently extends her left wrist, revealing a delicate feather tattoo. To the unknowing eye, it’s a simple piece of art. But for Cary, it’s a shield. It's a quiet emblem of survival that conceals the physical scars left by past suicide attempts.

In the Woman Rising narrative, this feather is more than ink. It marks the turning point when pain became purpose, and silence was replaced by story. Cary’s feather reminds us that survival is not a straight path. Healing often begins in unseen places, and resilience lives quietly beneath the surface. Her tattoo stands for the strength of all survivors who carry hidden scars and still choose to rise.

Brocken Child Welfare System 


Cary Stuart reflects on her childhood during a visit to the Maine Youth Center, where she was committed at age 14 and held until she was 18. “I was on a tracking program. I was the worst kid in there because I figured I couldn’t go home. I felt like I wasn’t wanted, like nobody loved me,” she recalls.


Cary’s story is emblematic of a larger crisis. The National Center for Juvenile Justice estimates that 60% of child sex trafficking victims have histories in the child welfare system. Youth without stable families, often grappling with trauma, abuse, or neglect, are especially vulnerable to traffickers’ false promises. Just like the modeling career that lured Cary into commercial sexual exploitation.


Many children in foster care bring with them Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) from prior abuse to homelessness that increase their risk. Cary’s journey reveals the devastating consequences when protective systems fail, underscoring the urgent need for reform and targeted support to break cycles of exploitation.

Addiction


Despite the courage symbolized by her tattoo, Cary’s path has been marked by setbacks. Addiction being one of the hardest battles to face.
In her home in Biddeford, Maine, Cary struggles to dress herself under the influence of illegal substances. Addiction is both a gateway into trafficking and a tool traffickers use to maintain control. “I ended up getting really heavy into drugs when I was being exploited by my pimps,” Cary shares. “They would either dose me or withhold drugs to keep me coming back.”


Addiction did not start Cary’s story, but traffickers used it to isolate and manipulate her. Like many survivors of sex trafficking, she found herself trapped in a cycle where drugs blurred the edges of trauma and deepened her entrapment.
In January 2019, July 2021, and January 2022, Cary relapsed. Each time, she was admitted to a drug rehabilitation facility for three months. These setbacks are not failures. They are part of a long, difficult journey toward healing—one that requires courage every day.


This moment challenges us to look beyond stigma and see addiction not as moral weakness but as both a consequence and symptom of sustained trauma. Through Cary’s honesty and vulnerability, Woman Rising invites us to witness the brutal reality of recovery—and the courage it takes to try again.

First Responders at the Front Line


Officers from the Portland Police Department respond to an incident, highlighting the role law enforcement plays in addressing human trafficking. Trafficking often occurs in hidden spaces and targets vulnerable individuals. Police and first responders are usually the first to encounter victims, intervene in dangerous situations, and connect survivors with available resources. Cary Stuart, a survivor of trafficking, spent significant time incarcerated for crimes committed under coercion by her trafficker. Law enforcement intervention is essential not only in dismantling trafficking networks but also in helping ensure that survivors like Cary can access protection, support, and a path to recovery.
In Maine, the challenges run deep. The opioid crisis, geographic isolation, and loss of trained law enforcement have left countless cases uninvestigated and survivors without justice.

Falling Through the Cracks

Recovery is rarely linear. For many survivors of trafficking, addiction is both a coping mechanism and a lasting wound. Even after breaking free from exploitation, the shadows of trauma can resurface. Especially when compounded by poverty, isolation, and lack of access to sustained care.

“Once an addict, always an addict. I’ll always struggle with my addiction. I must take it one day at a time. I just feel like a part of me has died.” — Cary
Cary’s honesty reveals the quiet battles many survivors continue to face long after their rescue. Her words remind us that healing isn’t a single event, but a lifelong process requiring support, understanding, and grace.

Caught in the Cycle

In her son Triston’s room in Portland, Maine, Cary Stuart struggles with substance use, caught in the grip of addiction even as she fights to stay present for her child. Triston quietly observes, a silent witness to the ongoing battle.

For children of survivors, the risk of trauma is alarmingly high. Often within multigenerational cycles of abuse and addiction.

This raw moment lays bare the heavy toll of trafficking. Not only on survivors but on their families and underscores the urgent need for comprehensive support to break these devastating cycles.

Lost Childhoods

This empty room once held the laughter and footsteps of Cary’s children—taken from her after a relapse, a moment that shattered their family. For many children in Maine’s foster care system, silence hides a deep and lasting trauma: the pain of separation, uncertainty, and loss. Despite efforts, the system remains overwhelmed and under-resourced, often failing to provide the stability, healing, and protection these children deserve. Their stories, like this empty room, speak volumes about the urgent need for reform and compassion.

 

Foster Care Visit 

In this latest photo from the Woman Rising Project, Cary stands strong with her three young children, who are currently in foster care. Today, she has been granted a supervised day visit, accompanied by a court-appointed chaperone tasked with ensuring the children’s safety and providing transportation, as Cary is not yet permitted to drive them.

After picking up the children from their foster parents, they spend a joyful day together at the carnival—sharing precious moments of laughter and connection amid challenging circumstances.

For many survivors of trafficking and addiction, the foster care system is a complicated and often painful reality. While children are removed for their safety, the separation can deepen trauma for both parent and child. Supervised visits like this one represent crucial opportunities for reconnection, though they also highlight the ongoing challenges survivors face navigating legal restrictions, rebuilding trust, and healing fractured relationships.

The child welfare system often struggles with limited resources and the difficult balance between protection and family preservation, sometimes leaving families caught between safety and separation. This image reminds us that behind every policy and procedure are real people, parents fighting to rebuild their lives and families, and children longing for stability, love, and belonging.

Moments of Normalcy

After all the darkness, sometimes healing shows up in the smallest, most ordinary acts. Like a breath held in soap and air. These bubbles, fleeting as they are, carry the weight of something profound: the possibility of joy, the freedom to play, and a quiet return to self. For Cary, motherhood is both anchor and aspiration. While systems have often failed her, moments like these remind her and us that love can be a lifeline, and connection a form of resistance.

“I just want him to know I tried. That no matter how hard it gets, I always come back for him.” — Cary

Rising Into Herself: Cary’s Journey from Exploitation to Empowerment

On a quiet afternoon in Biddeford, Maine, Cary watches her two-year-old son, Tristin, play in the yard outside their home. Tristin, her second child, was born without a cochlea in his left ear and lives with significant hearing loss.

Cary was still “in the life,” as she describes it, when she became pregnant. She believes the violence she endured during those months may have contributed to Tristin’s disability. “I was choked until I passed out more times than I can remember,” she says. “I was punched in the stomach. But the doctors say it’s genetic.”

Tristin’s father was likely one of Cary’s traffickers—either a man known as Ramey or another who went by King. King, she says, was the most brutal. He attempted to strangle her on several occasions, introduced her to drugs, and frequently locked her in a room for days at a time. Each morning, one of his enforcers would arrive to collect the money Cary was forced to earn. Her nightly quota was $1,000, with a steady stream of men expected to fill it.

Cary’s exit from that life began only after serving an 18-month prison sentence. Upon release, she entered an eight-month recovery program at Hope Rising, a trafficking-focused residential program in Maine. There, she attended AA meetings and domestic-abuse support groups. Over time, she began to understand that what she had lived through was not simply a series of abusive relationships—it was human trafficking.

Seeking clarity, Cary turned to survivor-written literature, including Survivor Guide to Learning by Rachel Lloyd. As she learned more, she noticed gaps in the support available to her. Her therapist, she says, had limited experience working with trafficking survivors. So Cary decided to step in. Using Lloyd’s guide, she began facilitating the support groups herself, helping other residents make sense of their own experiences.

Eight months later, she completed the program. It was the first time in years she felt something like pride.

“It was important to me,” she says. “It was during that time I could finally see myself—real self-realization. My whole life, I was always worrying about everyone else. Now, for the first time, I felt like I could take care of myself.”

 Moment of Hope

Cary's son explores the dashboard inside a police cruiser with Officer Tim Farris, a moment of childhood curiosity filled with possibility.
Cary reflects, "Having been incarcerated several times, I was just going in and out of the system until I met Officer Farris. He was able to help me see that I was being exploited and had not chosen this path. He saw me not as a criminal, but as a woman in crisis. His trauma-informed approach marked a turning point in my journey toward recovery."

Women who have experienced exploitation are often criminalized for acts they were coerced into or for survival behaviors, leading to incarceration for crimes they did not commit. The intersection of trafficking and the criminal justice system can compound trauma, making access to empathetic, trauma-informed support even more crucial.

Law enforcement officers like Farris, trained to recognize signs of exploitation and respond with empathy, are essential not only in rescuing victims and disrupting trafficking networks but also in helping survivors navigate the justice system and reclaim their lives. Their work is a critical piece of a broader effort to bring justice, healing, and dignity to survivors.

For too long, survivors—particularly those struggling with addiction or involved in the sex trade have been met with punishment instead of help. Combatting trafficking demands more than enforcement. It requires empathy, patience, and a willingness to listen.

From Surviving to Leading

Cary Stuart stands alongside Mary Irace, Director of the Salvation Army’s Tools for Life Program, as they thoughtfully select professional attire for an upcoming panel on human trafficking in August 2023.
This quiet, deliberate moment speaks volumes. Through years of steady support, Tools for Life has offered Cary more than services. It has provided community, dignity, and a path to leadership. Her relationship with Mary is built on trust and shared purpose, showing the power of allyship in survivor recovery.

Today, Cary is not only a survivor; she is a leader, advocate, and speaker. Her lived experience brings an irreplaceable voice to the fight against human trafficking. Survivor leaders like Cary challenge misconceptions, humanize statistics, and push for meaningful, informed change. Empowerment is not only possible; it is necessary.

Hope and Renewal 

Cary Stuart cradles her newborn son, a symbol of hope and renewal after years of struggle. Now clean and sober, she is determined to build a stable, loving life for herself and her child.

Motherhood has become a powerful motivation in Cary’s journey toward healing. Despite the trauma of her past, she is focused on creating a future defined by care, strength, and resilience.

For many survivors of human trafficking, reclaiming parenthood is a profound step toward reclaiming their identity and freedom. Cary’s story reminds us that recovery is possible—and that love can be a lifeline.

Healing in the Margins

Cary Stuart engages in weekly trauma therapy, women’s support groups, and drug counseling as part of her long-term recovery journey. “I dedicate myself to these steps, all for the well-being of my children and myself,” she says. “The road is long, marked by mental illness, night terrors, PTSD, and dissociative personality disorder—scars from a past that tried to break me.”

Cary’s perseverance reflects the deep resilience of survivors—but also exposes a painful truth. Across the United States, survivors of gender-based violence and human trafficking face a severe shortage of trauma-informed mental health care. Despite reports from the National Institute of Justice, Polaris Project, and the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services urging reform, funding for survivor-specific services remains critically inadequate.

Recovery is not just personal—it’s political. Cary’s determination to heal, for herself and her children, is an act of resistance. Her story underscores the urgent need to center mental health in the national response to human trafficking.
 

Reflections of Resilience

In the bathroom mirror, Cary meets her son’s gaze.

After everything she’s endured this image speaks to what endures: love, presence, and the will to be better for the next generation. The mirror doesn’t just show their faces. It reveals a future being reimagined in real time.

"Not so sure how I did it myself. Some days were much tougher than others to get to where I am today. I just keep showing up, working on myself, growing, changing for the better..." Cary reflects. "I want to live free... raise a family like I should have been raised... My dream is to take what I went through and use it to help others."

This final image honors the full spectrum of Cary’s story: from surviving to mothering, from fragmentation to wholeness, and toward a life defined not by what happened to her, but by the choices she makes now with love at the center.

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