Child Marriage Survivor Finds Her Voice and Support Through Advocacy at the Oregon Capital

Published on 1/28/2025

January is Human Trafficking Awareness Month, a time to reflect on the many forms of exploitation that continue to affect vulnerable individuals. While many of us associate human trafficking with abduction or forced labor, one of the most overlooked forms of trafficking is forced marriage, including child marriage.

Every year, thousands of girls in the U.S. are married off before they reach adulthood, often subjected to violence, abuse, and a lifetime of limited opportunity. These girls are not just victims of harmful practices—they can be trafficked under the guise of marriage, sexually exploited, and forced into servitude. As we observe this month dedicated to raising awareness about human trafficking, it is crucial to shine a spotlight on forced and child marriage as a form of trafficking that needs to end. We must also shine a spotlight on the sex trafficking forced and child marriage can lead to.

This is the story of one such survivor, Amy Turpin, who was married off before she had the legal capacity to consent, and how, through incredible resilience, she found her way to freedom. Her journey is a reminder of the urgent need to protect every child from the horrors of exploitation, to break the chains of child marriage, and to ensure that every girl has the opportunity to grow, thrive, and choose her own future.

Amy’s story was edited for length and clarity.

On her upbringing and life in a child marriage

Thank you so much for allowing me to share my story. Growing up, my life didn’t seem unusual to me at all since both my mother and grandmother were minor brides and mothers, too. Signs of dysfunction as a result of generational trauma were there since before I was born.

My mother’s work environment also deeply affected her ability to nurture or protect me. This led to a childhood defined by emotional isolation and control, including being locked in my bedroom and subjected to physical punishment. My mother’s life wasn’t great so I try to give her grace. I give her grace and distance.

Photos of Amy Turpin, a child marriage survivor from Oregon, when she was a child.

My family could make me do almost anything as a result of stacked traumas: car accidents, surgeries, near drowning, and even a baseball bat to my head that needed stitches by four years old. I only realized my abuse in the last couple of years as a result of also being so medically gaslit by medical providers they triggered PTSD.

From about 13 years old, I was set up with college guys. Through these meetings, I met my ex-husband, when I was only 15. He was 23. He proposed months later as I stood in his bathroom with the positive pregnancy test in hand. I wanted to finish high school first, but he kept assuring me that if I married him, everything would be alright. Those reassurances were mixed with obvious disregard for my safety, like taking me to dinner out but not letting me eat (while pregnant).

There was already a married girl at school, a widely spread rumor that a teacher was dating a student, and another rumor that a campus security guard was dating a cheerleader. School seemed fine with my pregnant belly waddling around the halls my junior year.

I worked hard to graduate a whole year early while also working full time, but my OBGYN scheduled my induction finals week. When my high school refused to allow me to take makeup finals, I was too discouraged to go back and dropped out to focus on my new family.

We couldn’t get an apartment because I was a minor, effectively blaming me for having to stay with my mother, who was getting more agitated by my lack of compliance with marriage. Getting married was the only way to get my child safe. My mom had me working full-time again at her company two weeks after my c-section surgery at 16 years old. I had to get us out of there.

My ex-husband proposed again. We had our wedding six weeks after I became a mother, in a park with family, friends, and our mutual employer as witnesses. My brother gave me away because I don’t know my father. I was signed over from my mother to my husband like a car wrapped in yards of Victorian lace because I was too young to sign myself. For the honeymoon, he took me to an adult shop to show me off and we got McDonald’s. The next day, he closed my bank accounts and kept all my paychecks until I moved out years later and got my own account.

Before I was 18, he moved us out of state to Tacoma, Washington. I had zero support. A bunch of unexplained health issues popped up in Tacoma. Recurrent infections and complaints that went unattended or ignored by both providers and myself, another common theme.

My ex-husband didn’t want me after my 18th birthday. Years of DARVO (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender), a manipulation tactic often used by abusers to avoid accountability for their actions, and gaslighting confused me, so when he asked me to be with his friends intimately, I thought, at least he didn’t hit me. He treated me like an employee and trafficked me. I just realized a few years ago because I was raised for it.

On the ongoing harms of child marriage

A photo of Amy Turpin, on her wedding day at the age of 17.

My escape, if you can call it that, is ongoing because I am still mostly in survival mode. My nervous system is broken. Organized abuse doesn’t stop, really. That is the high exit cost that keeps many in line. It is a network invested in oppressing survivors to protect each other. My abusers still mess with me occasionally.

Eventually, I left my husband and moved in with a roommate. I had a great union job as a shop steward in Tacoma and made enough money for us. I was okay when my ex-husband kept everything, including the house, in the divorce. I didn’t have any legal help. Eventually, I got my GED and started community college. Although my marriage was over, my abuse was not. I was sexually assaulted multiple times in the years after and faced continued hardship.

If I had any support, it wouldn’t have taken a decade to get my diploma and start on my degree. But I believe many in my community know I have been drugged and assaulted. Even doctors ignored the physical signs.

On her relationship with her children

I haven’t talked to my grown children since 2023. When abusers triangulate with professional skill, it is often more harmful and vulnerable for everyone to stay connected. It is purely circumstantial and my love for all my children runs so deep I am able to stay away. They know how to find me if they need me. I heard it called potted plant parenting and I like that.

My youngest is watching this journey and cheering us on. There is definitely pride seeing the coalition’s efforts to protect children from forced marriage and interest in attending the signing, when it’s time.

On what motivated her to testify for the child marriage ban in Oregon and how that has impacted her

My public speaking and willingness to share my story stems from a strong desire to stop those who use their positions to exploit children. My mother signed me over to a 23-year-old man at 17. I never had a chance.

People like myself frequently don’t see clearly until much later as a result of lifelong trauma conditioning. By then, shame is easily dished to keep us silent. The things I have been told by professionals are what is shameful.

I have attempted to report so many abuses and, even with all my privileges, was dismissed, ignored, lied to, and even hung up on by different institutions. Sometimes, even my privilege was used against me, like I didn’t deserve resources. Imagine what someone less advantaged could experience. After we “get away,” we are tormented socially, in education, in employment, and financially for speaking out at all. Free will alone can only get us so far in such communities, but I speak of my lived experience.

What child/forced marriage survivors need are communities made by us for us. Child marriage isn’t uncommon and there are a lot of us, of all ages, just looking for people who understand the experience. Shame is a powerful emotion that will keep abuse fresh, like a record skips, long after we do find safety. We need a safe place, literally and emotionally, to really put that shame down enough to heal old wounds.

Lack of education is also brutal. And I don’t mean just graded or formal education. I still learn the most basic things because I was always doing someone else’s bidding instead of my own developmental milestones. Being in constant fight or flight leads to memory issues that compound problems with retaining information. I am not flaky on purpose, but it is still isolating socially.

I speak publicly to protect little me as much as any child who doesn’t have the family they deserve. I can’t wait to be a part of the coalition that officially frees Oregon children from marriage and I hope the trend just picks up momentum state by state. Everyone previously and potentially harmed by abuse deserves this bare minimum gesture from Oregon’s elected officials.

Speaking on this publicly at the capital was so therapeutic for me. It was the first time anyone in authority apologized. I literally sobbed on and off for days after. I thought not crying made me strong. But with Kristin, another child marriage survivor, the Unchained at Last team, Pete from Zonta International, and Susanna from AHA Foundation beside me I felt strong enough to get loud. With both, support and a platform, I found my voice. In fact, my voice felt louder in the halls of the Oregon capital than it ever had before.

We must combat abuse like mine with the proper legislation. Survivors must be loud enough to show the truth of organized abuse to the world. If my story can help a call to action, then get ready to hear more from me. I finally found my voice. Together, we can protect more children. Especially if that’s how they abuse so many of us in the first place.

Thank you for hearing me.

SB548, a strong bipartisan bill that would end child marriage in Oregon, was introduced on January 13, 2025. Oregon residents can locate their Senators here, to urge support of this bill.

*The views in this blog do not necessarily reflect the views of AHA Foundation*