She Was Only Passing Through
Most people driving East Colfax assume the women they see have always been there.
That this is their neighborhood. Their choice. Their life.
But for many of the women standing on those corners, Denver is just one stop on a long, exhausting route they never chose.
Our 5 outreach teams are meeting women from Los Angeles, Arizona, Las Vegas, Chicago, Houston—women who arrived in Colorado days or weeks ago and will be gone just as quickly. Not because they want to leave, but because they are being moved.
This is what traffickers call a circuit.
Women are rotated city to city every two to four weeks. Denver is often the starting point. From here, they’re sent on—sometimes to Vegas, sometimes to Arizona, sometimes farther east. The purpose is simple and brutal: new buyers, fresh faces, more money. When demand slows or attention increases, the women are moved again.
Weather doesn’t matter.
Cold doesn’t matter.
Exhaustion doesn’t matter.
One woman from Los Angeles stood shivering on East Colfax, shocked by the freezing temperatures. She hadn’t packed for Colorado. She hadn’t been told where she was going. Our outreach teams gave her gloves and a beanie—small acts of warmth in a system designed to keep her disposable.
Rotation also serves another purpose: isolation.
When women are constantly moved, they can’t build community. They can’t learn where help exists. They can’t build friendships. The trafficker is what’s familiar. The trafficker is what they know.
Two weeks here.
Four weeks, then gone.
Some women stay longer, depending on the level of control they’re under. Not all women are working a circuit. Others are moved as soon as traffickers believe they’ve “maxed out” their earning potential in one location. Large events—sporting championships, conventions, major conferences—often trigger sudden influxes of trafficked women into cities where buyers will be plentiful.
This is not chaos.
It is calculated.
It's business.
And yet, in the middle of this system, there are moments of humanity.
A conversation.
A cup of coffee.
A name remembered.
A woman who is seen again—and again—and slowly begins to trust.
Outreach teams know they may only get one moment. One chance to look a woman in the eye and remind her she is not invisible. That she is not forgotten. That there is another way—even if today isn’t the day she will take it.
When you see women on East Colfax, know this:
Many of them are far from home.
Many of them are being controlled.
Many of them are just passing through.
And every single one of them deserves safety, dignity, and a future beyond the circuit.
So, we show up. We try to introduce them to Jesus. We offer prayer and the invitation to another life. We believe in their value.
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