Editor’s note: This article contains descriptions of sexual assault.
Sound of Freedom, the true story of anti-trafficking crusader Tim Ballard’s rescue of Latin American children during his time as a Homeland Security agent, has officially become one of the summer’s biggest sleeper hits. As of July 27, it has earned $155 million, on a budget of $14.5 million, and received widespread acclaim from critics.
But as a sex trafficking survivor and activist, I found that it perpetuated many of stereotypes and falsehoods that are intrinsic to the anti-trafficking rescue industry as a whole. Just a few of these misrepresentations are that BIPOC people and people in developing nations need an outside white savior and that survivors of trafficking do not have the agency, intelligence, or pedigree to speak for themselves.
The movie was, for me, extremely hard to sit through. I almost walked out several times. As I fidgeted in my seat, I noticed that a lady sitting in front of me was wildly smacking on popcorn, eyes glued to the screen. She seemed transfixed by a scene of a white American pedophile buying a seven-year-old boy as another one of the traffickers beat his sister. A horrible realization began to creep up: This movie is, for most viewers, a piece of entertainment that will likely solidify their preconceived notions about what trafficking is and how it can be remedied.
For example, while statistics on trafficking are highly variable, sex trafficking has historically been the least common form of it, with labor trafficking being the most prevalent. In the United States, this often takes place among migrant farm workers and laborers from Latin America.
Sound of Freedom is, in fact, mostly about Tim Ballard, not about the children.
As a child, barely old enough to talk, I was a victim of sexual violence for the first time. If I had known how many people would rape me between the ages two and thirty-four, I probably would have died by suicide. Being the victim of ongoing and complex violence, for myself and many others, is not an abstract. It happens. It’s happening right now. And when a movie like Sound of Freedom appears, suddenly vaulting trafficking into the public spotlight, I wonder why we need to see graphic depictions of sexual violence to believe it. Are testimonies from people like me not enough?
As I have detailed in other writings, there are a few big problems with the U.S.-based nonprofit industry that proclaims itself to be fighting human trafficking. One of the biggest issues is that the majority of these organizations—I estimate over 75 percent—are led by people who have never experienced human trafficking or the sex trade, like Justice Defense Fund’s Laila Mickelwaite, Modeling Equality’s Peter Qualliotine, or Exodus Cry’s Benjamin Nolot.
Sound of Freedom, by centering on a federal agent depicted as a savior to survivors, repeats the same outsider hero complex that’s prevalent in the real world.
When the credits finally roll, Jim Caviezel (the actor playing Ballard) appears for a “special message.” He claims Sound of Freedom is not about Tim Ballard, or him, but about the children. After a few stock remarks about the importance and power of storytelling, Caviezel concludes on a strangely religious note: “God’s children are not for sale.”
This ham-fisted monologue, I assume, was meant as an attempt to absolve the movie’s creators from profiting off of survivors’ stories. Of course, Sound of Freedom is, in fact, mostly about Tim Ballard, not about the children. If it was focused on survivors, it would’ve centered their voices, which it did not.
My point in writing this is that, while it’s not inherently a bad thing to want to do good, taking action on something as complex as sex trafficking without being aware of its intricacies, can be more harmful than doing nothing. Sound of Freedom perpetuates the notion that the best response is for the privileged to take justice into their own hands, perhaps by flying to developing nations, breaking down doors, and rescuing kids. What could go wrong?