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.

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.

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

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.

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

Tristin, two years old, gazes into the camera, his presence quietly resilient. Born with significant hearing loss, he entered the world while his mother, Cary, lived through abuse and trauma in human trafficking.

A 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."

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.

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.”

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."