06/25/2025
ENGLISH VERSION
Barbed Wire, Sewing Needles, and the Moral Duty to Love: A Journey from Princeton to Colombia then to Trenton
By Diego F. Maya
Princeton, New Jersey
I wasn’t prepared for the weight I would feel at the front entrance of the institution in Pereira, Colombia.
I had come through a friend who worked there, hoping to bring donations to a group of girls I’d heard about—but what I encountered shook me to the core. As my taxi pulled up, I thought I had arrived at a prison.
Barbed wire wrapped around the building. There were no windows. Just a steel door with a single peephole and a buzzer that pierced the silence. The sound jolted me—it transported me to those haunting scenes from The Shawshank Redemption or The Green Mile, where pain and punishment echo through cold corridors. It didn’t feel like a place for healing. It felt like a place where the world had tucked its shame away and moved on.
Inside were not inmates, but survivors.
Forty girls, between the ages of 8 and 18, had been rescued from sexual slavery—many trafficked by their own parents. Some were already mothers. All bore invisible wounds, far deeper than any wall or lock could contain. Who knows how wretched their treatment had been—so cruel, so unspeakable—that much of it never came to light in court proceedings, because they couldn’t bear to speak of the daggers that had pierced their souls and shattered both their childhood and feminine innocence.
And as I entered that world passing through the thick metal door, I asked myself:
Is this how we heal?
Do we lock survivors away to keep them “safe”?
Or have we, as a society, simply run out of answers?
The Moral Imperative
Years earlier, I met Dr. Cornel West outside Small World Coffee in Princeton—my favorite spot for a warm cup of reflection. I asked for a photo, and he graciously obliged. At the time, I was still evolving—an immigrant who had arrived alone in the U.S. at age 10. Over the years, I lived with strangers from different Latin American backgrounds, slowly finding my way through life as best I could. First through the school of hard knocks, then through education, I began to find my voice—through media, business, and community advocacy.
That day, Dr. West said something I’ll never forget:
“Justice is what love looks like in public.”
That phrase echoed in me as I felt myself walking inside this forgotten world in slow motion, like one of those heroes from a movie, and the steel door shut before me in Pereira.
As I look back at that moment, it was the precise moment I understood Dr. West’s words in full. Justice is not an idea; it is a profound moral obligation. It's a commitment to show up. It's a refusal to look away. To see suffering and do nothing is not merely inaction; it is the ultimate betrayal of love, a complicity that wounds the soul.
A Story Begins with Scraps
I had arrived in Pereira with my own hidden interest to meet the girls and with the help of Trenton Councilwoman Yazminelly Gonzalez, and New Jersey business owners Rosa and Freddy Rosado of McDonald’s and Arturo Ortega of La Fortaleza Restaurants, Carolina Moratti New Brunswick Community Leader and her son Abraham, Olga Carrillo Mercer County Guatemalan Community Leader and today Lawrenceville Public Schools Board of Education Member, I brought what I could: bookbags, tennis shoes, and clothing donated from our communities back home.
When I stepped into the girl’s common room—used for dining, learning, and therapy—the girls sat quietly, waiting for me to speak.
But I couldn’t.
Instead, I simply wept.
What felt like an everlasting moment continued with my heart thumping loudly in the silence.
It was a silence heavy with loud cries holding deep pain.
Their eyes—so young, yet so tired—held questions no child should have to ask.
And I thought:
What kind of world does this to children?
I came bearing gifts. But I left with a calling.
Charity would never be enough.
These girls needed love, dignity, and a way forward they could shape with their own hands.
The idea didn't form overnight; it took two years of dedicated effort. Two years to crystalize the vision, to meticulously connect the dots, to pour in money and time, and to seek out the right individuals. From that persistent work, Hope for Girls emerged.
Using my own savings, the support of New Jersey donors, my company Latino Spirit Media, and our nonprofit US Latino Affairs Initiatives, we built a sewing workshop inside the protected facility. I named the shop after my daughter, Paloma—a name that means dove, a symbol of peace and renewal.
The early months of Hope for Girls were dedicated to equipping the girls with vital skills. We covered everything from basic sewing and threading to entrepreneurial principles, the art of upcycling, and essential garment design. These girls often stay within the institution until they're either adopted, reach the age of 18, or are reunited with a responsible family member. One of the many girls who I have hugged has been there for more than 5 years.
The initiative quickly became more than vocational training.
It became therapy through creation.
A way to turn pain into power.
I realized it was a way for them to reclaim control over their stories and their futures.
Some of the girls, due to their history of self-harm, couldn’t even be left alone with scissors. But slowly, with guidance and trust, they began stitching not only fabric—but hope.
June 24: A Sacred Delivery in Trenton
On June 24, 2025, the capital of New Jersey became the setting for something profoundly beautiful. Through my Top Latinos of New Jersey Initiative, an effort to cultivate those hidden Spanish-speaking heroes, I came across Jose Cabrera. Jose had built a youth soccer league primarily for inner-city Latino children, growing it from just 5 kids to 350 on a bare, rock-ridden baseball field in the heart of Trenton, the Capital City. He participated in my Top Latinos event and was awarded third place in 2024-2025. Upon hearing about Hope for Girls, Jose had a brilliant suggestion: "Why don't we have the girls sew the uniforms for our kids?"
Inside the Trenton Municipal Building’s atrium, we delivered:
200 soccer uniforms
50 t-shirts
40 handmade scrunchies
Each piece was crafted by the girls in Pereira and included a handwritten letter and a drawing of encouragement—addressed to a child in Trenton.
The recipients were members of Team America, a local soccer league composed mostly of inner-city youth—many first- and second-generation immigrants from Central and South America.
These weren’t just uniforms.
They were messages of solidarity—stitched with trembling hands across thousands of miles.
Each stitch whispered:
“You are not forgotten.”
“You matter.”
“You can dream, too.”
The City Steps Up
What followed was unforgettable.
Almost the entire Trenton City Council stood with us—not just physically, but emotionally:
Council President Yazminelly Gonzalez, “Diego thank you for keeping Trenton first, no matter where you are across the world.”
Councilwoman Crystal Feliciano, “Diego, thank you so much for making this possible and for the collaboration with all the wonderful people.”
Councilwoman Jenna Figueroa Kettenburg, who said “Diego there’s nothing that you touch that isn’t inspirational. Keep shining the light on Trenton”
Councilwoman Teska Frisby, "Thank you, thank you, we are so very proud to be here and be a part of this.”
Councilwoman Jennifer Williams, whose presence made the circle complete said “Thank you for everyone being a part of this, sports are important in our youth.” She also excused the only council person who didn’t attend due to an unforeseen incident - Councilman Joseph Harrison.
Councilwoman Jasi Mikae Edwards, who—through tears—shared her own story of survival and pain adding “I remain holding back tears, because I am a survivor. Thank you.”
This was not a political gathering.
It was a human response to suffering—and to hope.
Global Pain, Local Healing
In a world fractured by bombs, disconnection, and indifference, this was a message of peace.
Funded 80% by Guillermo “Will” Garcés, a respected New Jersey attorney, and supported by Jose Cabrera, founder of Team America, this project was made possible by a network of courageous leaders.
In Colombia, thank you to the foundation that houses the girls, Corporación Sirviendo con Amor, and a powerful sisterhood of volunteers:
(Volunteer) Colombia Initiative Director - Paola Escobar Rueda,
Social and Community Worker
(Paid and Volunteer) Instructor Angie Cardona Rengifo Florez
Plus-Size Model & Fashion Designer
(Volunteer) Project Guidance - Martha Lucia Flórez Vallejo
Foundation Director and Psychologist
(Volunteer) Pedagogy - Yohana Monsalve Gómez
Children's Education Specialist
(Volunteer) Uniform Confection Sandra Paola Gallego Molina
Fashion Instructor, Colombian National Training Center - SENA
In the U.S., deep thanks to:
Retired Judge Kenneth Gonzalez, Perth Amboy, New Jersey
Ricardo Ramos, Mariachi Grill - Ewing, Hamilton, Trenton - New Jersey
Carlos Gomez, Parceros Punto y Coma - Trenton - Ewing - New Jersey
Cesar Lasso, CJ Lasso Fragrances - United States
Beyond Media, Into the Mission
As the founder of Latino Spirit Media and Executive Director of US Latino Affairs Initiatives, I’ve spent years telling the stories of our people—our struggles, our triumphs, our dreams.
But this story demanded more.
It had to be lived.
It had to become a mission.
Today, Hope for Girls – Sewing Dreams is about more than sewing.
It is about:
Building bridges between nations
Raising awareness of child trafficking and sexual violence
Uplifting underserved communities with healing, education, and opportunity
Because a healthy society is a prosperous society.
A Final Reflection
The world is hurting.
Children are suffering.
And yet, in a building without windows, behind barbed wire, 40 girls are sewing.
Not because they were told to.
But because they wanted to.
They stitched uniforms.
They wrote letters.
They drew dreams.
They didn’t just mend fabric.
They stitched the world back together.
I think again of Cornel West, and that morning in Princeton.
“Justice is what love looks like in public.”
These girls didn’t just speak justice.
They sewed it.
And in Trenton, we received it—with open hands and humbled hearts.
What’s Next
We’re planning a Hope for Girls Gala in November 2025, where the girls in Colombia will see their creations featured on a runway show.
🎁 Donate prom dresses or formalwear:
📦 Mail to:
Diego F. Maya
Executive Director – US Latino Affairs Initiatives
36 Cianci Street, Paterson, NJ 07501
(Make sure you add that the package must be receipt signed by US Latino Affairs)
📩 Volunteer - Sign up for UPDATES on this story of Hope or donate:
Email: [email protected]
💸 Tax-deductible contributions:
Payable to:
US Latino Affairs Initiatives – Hope for Girls
PNC Bank - Account Number - 8138289587
Same address as above.
Thank you for joining us.
