By Tanya Dennis and Vanessa Russell

Although California Senate Bill 357 was intended to alleviate arrests of willing sex workers under anti-loitering laws, it opened up a Pandora’s box loophole that hinders the ability of law enforcement to halt human trafficking, especially of young Black and Brown girls.

Over the last five weeks we’ve covered multiple ways that SB 357 and legislation like it allows sex buyers to prey on the vulnerabilities and ongoing economic instability of Black communities.

Each of the vulnerabilities – repeated trauma of poverty, racism, drug addiction, broken families — paint pictures of the difficult position that Black girls are placed in as they choose the sex industry over homelessness and hunger.

But is it really a choice when you have no other options?  Black people are continually faced with coercive opportunities from the sex industry.  Because they are overrepresented in the sex industry, many may think they want to be there or that they should be there, but a deeper look reveals that sex work for many is not a choice but a means to survive.

Being trafficked, aka sold to a sex buyer against one’s will, has a tremendous impact on mental health causing Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD), General Anxiety Disorder (GAD), depression, and panic disorders.

In a Psychology Today article, survivors share similar feelings:

• “I was going through life on auto-pilot”
• “I was always self-blaming”
• “I felt shame and fear”
• “I was not in touch with myself”
• “With so many secrets I felt I had to keep, I didn’t want to get really close to anyone. I didn’t want people to know what I had been through, and I didn’t want to face these things myself.”

Even those who say they voluntarily worked in the sex industry said that being reduced to a product affected their mental health.

In a Proletarian Feminist article titled “Sex Work,” Esperanza, a socialist, feminist, transgender Latina woman, and survivor of the sex trade shared that “the reality of being a transgender prostitute was not so simple. What started out as empowering in my mind quickly became a trap I couldn’t escape.

In general, 16% of the Black population is experiencing mental illness, according to a Mental Health America story on the subject.  It’s no surprise that mental disorders are so prevalent in the Black community where 40% of those who are sexually exploited are Black and 1 in 5 Black women are survivors of rape.

One study reported by University of Pittsburgh Professor Rebecca Thurston in 2021 showed that people who experience sexual assault are at a higher risk of brain damage including cognitive decline, dementia, and stroke

Solving the Black mental health problem is complex. First, mental health services are not widely accepted in the Black community.  There is still a stigma about seeking help, LCSWAmy Morin wrote for VeryWellMind in October of 2020.  Historically, the Black community has characterized traditional counseling as something that you do when you are crazy and have completely lost control.

Talking about feelings in a chaise lounge chair and needing to take medicine can be viewed as a sign of weakness.   Also, when Black people do buy into receiving mental health services, they want them from someone they feel comfortable with, someone who is culturally astute.

Unfortunately, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) reports that “only 2% of the estimated 41,000 psychiatrists in the U.S. are Black, and just 4% of psychologists are Black.”

What would happen if we had more representation in the Black mental health space that integrated important parts of our faith with clinical educational insights that can inform our healing?

We could help Black people understand that they can rewire their brains with an improved thought life and at the same time continue to pray about negative thoughts as they arise.

Several evidence-based studies have shown that prayer is highly effective in traumatized patients and yet government agencies fight tooth and nail to keep faith-based practices and services separate from government sanctioned clinical versions of mental health services.

The Oakland Frontline Healers has formed a Black mental health providers coalition.  This group is making great strides to meet the needs of Black clients in non-traditional ways.

Unfortunately, when bills like SB 357 are passed without consideration for these issues and allocating funding to exit services including mental health, we are not able extend these resources to the people who need it the most.

Most of the services that Black people receive are pro bono which is indirectly taking from the Black clinician that has earned their way into this profession but once again cannot serve their own people without going broke.

This vicious cycle of Black people having to make all the sacrificing for our own people must end.  It is time for legislators to discontinue using black pain to pass legislation and leave Black people with the bill.

Robust funding of exit services such as mental health, outreach, housing, workforce development is long overdue.

Tanya Dennis is the facilitator for Oakland Frontline Healers and Vanessa Russell is the executive director of Love Never Fails.

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