Today we’d like to introduce you to Alicia Bush.
Hi Alicia, we’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
My story begins long before TVF ever existed — it begins with a growing awareness that something was terribly wrong right here in our own backyard. For years, I had this unsettling tug on my heart, a sense that the headlines weren’t telling the full story and that the crisis of human trafficking wasn’t some distant problem happening overseas or in movies. It was happening right here in Texas, in our neighborhoods, in our schools, hidden in plain sight.
I didn’t start out knowing what to do about it. I just knew I couldn’t unknow what I had learned.
The more I listened, the more I researched, the more I talked to survivors and advocates, the more my sense of responsibility grew. It didn’t come from a place of saviorhood — it came from being a mother, a neighbor, a woman, a human being who couldn’t continue living comfortably while so many young lives were being stolen in silence.
That’s when TVF was born — not as a business, but as a calling.
I began with nothing but passion, a notebook filled with ideas, and a conviction that storytelling has the power to open eyes and shift entire cultures. I believed deeply that people don’t move until their hearts do. So I set out to bring awareness in a way that was honest, hopeful, and unignorable.
My path has been made up of countless conversations, late‑night research sessions, moments of heartbreak, and moments of profound hope. I’ve met survivors whose strength rewired the way I understand resilience. I’ve met families forever changed by the realities they never imagined existed in their communities. And I’ve met everyday people who, once aware, refuse to stay silent.
TVF became my platform to do something meaningful — to illuminate what is hidden, to give voice to what is often ignored, and to remind our communities that vigilance is everyone’s responsibility. My mission isn’t fueled by fear; it’s fueled by love, truth, and the belief that awareness saves lives.
Today, I stand here not because the journey has been easy, but because it has been necessary. I am humbled by how far TVF has come and energized by how much work is still ahead. My story is still unfolding, and each chapter reminds me that when we follow the pull on our spirit — even when the path is uncertain — purpose finds us.
If my journey shows anything, it’s that one person really can spark a movement. And sometimes, the most powerful change begins simply by choosing not to look away.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Not at all — and honestly, I don’t think it was ever meant to be.
When I look back over these past ten years, the road has been filled with deep heartache, discouragement, and moments where I wondered if I had the strength to keep going. From a mission standpoint, it was frustrating to be fighting for a problem I knew existed while trying to convince others that the solution was needed. How do you raise money for a crisis most people don’t realize is happening right here — in our own neighborhoods? How do you ask a community to care about stories they’ve never seen, fears they’ve never felt, and trauma they can’t imagine?
Some days the hardest part wasn’t the work itself, but hearing how easily some people blamed the very ones we serve — assuming their pain came from “choices” they made. But so often, these weren’t choices at all. They were circumstances, manipulation, and a systematic stripping away of options. That ignorance in the community was heartbreaking. It still is.
And then there was the nonprofit learning curve — steep, unforgiving, and humbling. We didn’t start TVF with a blueprint. We started with a burden. Learning everything from fundraising to compliance to trauma‑informed care, all while trying to build a safe, secret home where real lives were healing… it was a lot. And because the work happens behind closed doors for the residents’ protection, we can’t parade success stories or display the transformation the world desperately wants “proof” of. We serve quietly. Privately. Sacredly. And that invisibility can make the journey even lonelier.
Leadership, especially in this space, is often a silent, isolating path. It’s a 24‑hour‑a‑day calling — no holidays, no off‑switch, no tidy separation between your heart and your work. Trying to explain to family and friends why I left a successful full‑time career to spend the last decade as a full‑time volunteer… that has been one of the most personal struggles. People have asked, “Why give so much to people you don’t even know? People whose story is nothing like yours?” The only answer is: because as a follower of Jesus Christ, I knew I was called to obedience. Because once you see the truth, you can’t pretend you didn’t.
There were also the practical struggles — juggling volunteers, leading a team, supporting residents, stewarding donor relationships, building partnerships, and trying to grow mission capacity at the same time. And yes… the repeating cycle of “We need another home. We’re ready. But we can’t move forward until we raise more.” That rhythm has become familiar — but it hasn’t defeated us.
Even in the hardest moments, the reward has always been greater than the weight.
What I’ve learned is that purpose rarely comes wrapped in comfort. Calling requires cost. And the road to making a difference will ask more of you than you thought you had — but it will also give you more than you ever imagined.
If there is anything I want people to take away from my journey, it’s this:
You were made for more. You are capable of more. And you don’t have to do it alone.
Tenacity matters. Faith matters. Choosing the right people to walk beside you matters even more. TVF exists today because of a community of determined hearts who refused to look away — who linked arms and believed change was possible.
The road hasn’t been smooth. But it has been worth every step.
As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
At TVF, our work lives at the intersection of awareness, restoration, and radical compassion. We exist to confront the reality of sex trafficking in our community and to support survivors with a level of individualized care that honors their dignity, their story, and their potential.
A large part of what we do is public-facing — educating communities, churches, schools, and families about what trafficking really looks like here at home. Awareness is powerful, but awareness paired with understanding is life‑saving. I’m proud of how TVF has helped shift the narrative in our community, giving people not only knowledge but the confidence to speak up, to look closer, and to protect the vulnerable.
But some of our most meaningful work happens privately — in the moments no one sees in our TVF home.
When a desperate mother calls us because her child is missing, being groomed, or caught in a situation she doesn’t know how to navigate, we get to be the steady voice on the other end of the line. We encourage, we guide, we provide resources, and we help her breathe again. These moments remind me why TVF exists — because crises don’t wait for business hours, and families need a safe place to turn.
The heart of our mission, though, is the generational life‑changing work we do with survivors of sex trafficking.
We are known for having a unique, highly personalized approach to healing — one that wasn’t designed in a boardroom but built organically over the past decade by listening to the women we serve. Their needs shaped our methods. Their experiences guided our structure. Their voices refined our approach.
Each woman has her own story, her own trauma, her own pace — so we don’t force a one‑size‑fits‑all formula. We build healing around the individual, not the other way around.
One of our earliest survivors was pregnant when she came to us. She received safety, stability, and the support she needed to begin again. Today, she is thriving with her family — and one of the most beautiful full‑circle moments was when she returned to mentor women entering the program. I will never forget her words:
“You changed my life for generations to come.”
That is the kind of impact we fight for every day.
People often focus on how we serve survivors, but I’m equally proud of the long‑lasting impact on those who walk alongside them — volunteers, mentors, community members. Whether someone spent an afternoon planting a garden or showed up on a Saturday to help move furniture, those simple acts of love leave permanent imprints on everyone involved. Healing was never meant to be done in isolation — it happens through relationship, presence, and shared humanity.
And yes, we are known for being Christ‑centered.
That foundation shapes everything — how we lead, how we serve, how we love, and how we hold space for the women in our care. It reminds us that every person is worthy of dignity, restoration, and hope.
What sets TVF apart is not our structure, or our programs, or even our impact —
it’s the heart behind the work.
It’s our commitment to see the unseen, to serve quietly when needed, and to walk with people through the darkest parts of their story until they find light again.
And that is what I’m most proud of.
What matters most to you?
What matters most to me is creating a place where healing is not only possible, but protected — a home. In the fight against human trafficking, there are so many incredible nonprofits and resources working tirelessly in our community. But the truth is, very few provide what survivors need most: a safe, stable, 24/7 home where they can breathe, rebuild, and begin again.
TVF is a home in every sense of the word — not a shelter, not a temporary bed, not a program that clocks out at 5 p.m. We provide wrap‑around support day and night, the kind of care that allows a woman to finally exhale after years of survival mode. It’s one of the most vital — and most expensive — resources in this entire movement, yet it is the one resource that is the least available. That reality fuels me.
What matters to me is that every woman who walks through our doors knows she is not a statistic, not a case file, not a burden — she is someone worth fighting for. She deserves a home to stabilize, to heal at her own pace, and to gain the skills and confidence to someday live independently and sustainably. Watching that transformation is one of the greatest honors of my life.
What also matters to me is the ripple effect — the generational change that happens when one life is restored. When a survivor becomes a mother who is present, a woman who is healed, an advocate for herself and others, the impact stretches far beyond one person. That is why we exist. That is what keeps me going.
And beyond the mission itself, what matters most is staying true to our heart: to serve with compassion, humility, and unwavering Christ‑centered love. This work is messy, exhausting, and often unseen — but the unseen moments are the ones that matter most. It’s the late‑night conversations, the quiet victories, the simple acts of trust regained.
More than anything, what matters to me is knowing that we were created for more — and helping others discover that they were, too. This work has taught me the power of perseverance, community, and purpose. It has shown me that healing takes a village, and impact takes tenacity. And when you surround yourself with people who share the same passion, you can change stories, families, and futures.
At the end of the day, what matters most is that no woman feels alone — and that every woman has a safe place to call home while she writes the next chapter of her life.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://treasuredvessels.org/
- Instagram: TreasuredVesselsFoundation
- Facebook: Treasured Vessels Foundation
- LinkedIn: Treasured Vessels Foundation
Image Credits
Vanessa Corral Photography for the headshot.
