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Have you ever considered your freedom?

For most of us around the world—at least in the Western world—it’s something we possess everyday. It’s something we have; yet, we are completely oblivious to it. It’s so natural, so normal, that we forget we have it.

It’s not until we hear a story or meet someone who doesn’t have freedom that we are suddenly faced with the reality. 

We are free. They are not.

Until I walked into a safe house for the first time, until I personally met a rescued victim of human trafficking, until I heard first-hand the horrific stories of people who had their freedom stolen . . .

Until then, I didn’t know.

Maybe you don’t know either. Maybe you don’t know what it’s like to not have freedom.

Our Story

Only once did I actually experience it.

Only once, one day, for 22 hours, was my freedom stolen. Only once was the freedom of my husband and my four children stolen.

Several years ago, when trying to enter a foreign country, we were stopped at the border. We were detained. We were held captive. Our passports were taken. We were held in a room without food, water, blankets, our suitcases. I asked for our stroller so that I could lay my overly-exhausted three-year-old child down for the night. They wouldn’t give it to me.

Our movement was restricted. We couldn’t leave the room. If one of us needed to go to the restroom, we were police escorted.

Photo by Pandav Tank on Unsplash


We couldn’t sleep. We couldn’t take pictures. When I tried to document our situation, the police ran after me and grabbed my iPad. He stood there as I “pretended” to delete the photos.

This experience only lasted 22 hours, one day. But, it felt like an eternity.

We arrived at the airport at 1 a.m. in the morning, and our family was police-escorted onto an airplane back home at 11 p.m.

 We never knew why. They never answered our questions. We never got any explanation.

For only 22 hours were our human rights restricted, our freedom stolen.

It was long enough.

What Are Our Fundamental Human Rights?

If you have never heard of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, written and adopted in 1948, here it is.

Here are some of our fundamental human rights:


—The right to be free from torture or other forms of inhuman or degrading treatment 

—The right to physical or mental health

—The right to safe and decent housing

—The right to life

—The right to freedom and security

—The right to freedom of movement

—The right to human dignity

Photo by Chela B. on Unsplash

In the case of my family’s detention, mainly our right to freedom of movement was taken. I might add the right to human dignity and even the right to freedom and security.

I can remember us calling the American and French embassies while we were being detained. I was scared, and I wanted someone out there—beyond our four walls in that airport room—to know. Someone needed to know that we were there and keep tabs on us.

We didn’t have food and water. I was mainly concerned about our younger children. The U.S. Embassy promised to get us blankets, food, and water if the local authorities continued to not respond to our requests. Eventually, a kind policeman brought us coffee with milk and some croissants for the boys.

My story of stolen human rights is NOTHING compared to the traumatic stories of the men, women, and children we meet in our work among immigrants and refugees. Their freedom, their human rights have not only been stolen for 22 hours, but for days, for weeks, for months, for years, for decades . . . sometimes for a lifetime.

Habiba’s Story


I wrote Habiba’s story because she told me to. She was a slave, a sex trafficked slave. She lost all her human rights. Every single one on that list was stolen from her.

She was tortured every moment that she had to forcefully—against her will—sell her body in the day and night. The treatment was degrading and inhuman. Her physical and mental health were stripped in the process. Habiba didn’t have decent housing. The windows of her room were boarded up, and she didn’t even have a lightbulb. She was forced to live in the dark. She was not safe, and her life was constantly being threatened. She did not have freedom of movement, but was controlled by those who had “purchased her” like meat at the market. Human dignity? NONE!

Habiba’s story of slavery is hard, sad, painful. Yet, her story has now changed. Her story of slavery has now turned into one of redemption and freedom. 

Read it.

She told me to tell you her story. That’s what I did. Today is the International Day of Human Rights. Let’s proclaim our freedom and scream from the mountaintop that God created everyone—male, female, old, young, black, white—to be FREE!

No one shall be held in slavery or servitude, slavery and the slave trade are prohibited in all their forms.

Article 4, Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Today is the International Day of Human Rights, declared by the United Nations in 1948. Listen to stories, learn, open your eyes, and go out and make a difference.

Get Your Own Copy of Habiba’s Story Today. Our Journey to El Dorado: Two Women, Two Immigrants, Two Worlds Collide—A True Story of Faith and Freedom from Human Trafficking 

—The Cultural Story-Weaver

My Gift to You—Get Your Free Ebook—”The 5-Day Journey to Cultural Awareness”!

Let’s Weave Cultures!

Did you know the today is the International Day of Human Rights? How have you had your own human rights restricted or stolen? How do you see the human rights of people in your culture or country being violated?

We invite you to tell us your own cultural stories and global adventures . . . as you engage with the world, breaking down barriers, building bridges, and “weaving cultures”! Write about them in the comment box below.

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The Cultural Story-Weaver

Marci is a global nomad who has traveled to more than 30 countries and lived extensively in the United States, France, Morocco, and Spain. She loves to travel, speak foreign languages, experience different cultures, eat ethnic foods, meet people from faraway lands, and of course, tell stories.

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