The Super Bowl is today. Downtown has been alive with activity for days. Barricades. Policemen with dogs. Bustle on the sidewalks. Helicopters. Camera crews. The Blimp. A $17.00 Super Bowl mug.
But on a deserted lot in Roosevelt Row Art District, The Scarlet Cord offers hope and healing to the wounded and curious…
- A prostitute asks for help to feed her children
- An ASU professor requires her class to visit The Scarlet Cord
- An aunt sheds tears over the rape of her 20-year-old niece
- A young woman confides that she had been raped at 12
- Another expensive car with darkened windows slows before driving away
- A hand brushes a single tear off a cheek
- A young students says, “The same scarlet cord that tethers the children to their pimps can be used to suture their wounds”
- A man emerges from the nearby broken-down hotel and walks through The Scarlet Cord
- A young pedicab driver stops to talk and decides to see the installation
- A couple slowly walks through The Scarlet Cord as the young woman cries
- A seasoned news anchor commenting on The Scarlet Cord says, “I did not realize the extent of the problem when I went out there; you can’t walk away without having an impact.”
A middle school girl sat down on the curb—holding her head in her hands—crying out, “I know what it’s about. I know what it’s about.”
You may choose to look the other way but you can never say again that you did not know. William Wilberforce
