A few years ago I went back to visit Pakistan, the country my parents left to emigrate to America.

I still have relatives there. I can understand the language. The food is delicious. The art is stunning, and the people have legendary hospitality. It’s also been on the brink of a failed state politically, with all the challenges and corruption that developing nations face.

It’s an odd experience when you’ve grown up a minority in your own country to suddenly be in a place where you are in the majority. I was particularly aware of my status as part of the privileged majority when I visited with the religious minority communities there. Members of the Ahmadiyya community face state-sponsored discrimination, and some Christians also have been targets of persecution and targeted violence. Political leaders and journalists who have spoken out in defense of religious minorities risk violence and threats. For years, rising intolerance has been fueled by those with a political agenda.

Hatred and fear of “the other” can be powerful recruiting tools anywhere in the world. My own children have never been to Pakistan, and I wonder how different their experience might be. For me, there’s always a sense of relief when I come back home from traveling abroad. I’m hyperaware of my “Americanness” when I am in a different country -- my beliefs, my mannerisms, my way of operating in the world are a clear giveaway.

After this most recent trip to Pakistan, questions nagged at me when I returned. What if my parents had stayed and I had been raised in an educated, Sunni Muslim family where the country’s power structure and dominant culture benefited my group. Would I have grown up to care about the most vulnerable people in that society? Would I have spoken out if they were demonized if it didn’t affect me personally? Would I have made excuses for or rationalized the dehumanization I can see so clearly as an outsider? Would I have looked away from it all, oblivious to an injustice because I wasn’t personally involved?

Maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to rock the boat or offend my family or friends who supported a particular political party. Maybe I would have thought there were more pressing concerns and been willing to compromise on the backs of the most vulnerable.

These were uncomfortable questions to consider. I wouldn’t want to be that person. I like to believe I’m a person who cares about liberty and justice for everyone, not just when my own liberties are threatened. But, maybe as part of the majority, I wouldn’t have been aware of what it actually feels like to live under a sense of political threat and otherness.

Maybe it would have been easier to stay silent, even if I saw places of worship bombed or angry mobs targeting innocent people who were different from me.

I think about this when I notice the deafening silence of Americans who I know to be good and decent people. We all know what it means when people chant “Send her back!” at a political rally. We know what it means when only certain Americans are ever told to “go back” somewhere other than the country in which they are a citizen.

In Pakistan, I could have been part of a silent majority willing to overlook cruelty and bigotry. It wasn’t just greater economic opportunities and democratic freedoms I benefited from by being born in America. Growing up as a minority in America changed my heart and conscience. I internalized the belief that we are a country bound by common ideals -- not a particular race, ethnicity or religion -- and the sense of responsibility that comes with defending those values. This is the idea of America I’ve instilled in my children. 

Growing up hearing slurs shouted at my mother has given me the courage to call out a wrong when I see it happening. Learning our history has made me realize that if a politician promised me safety and economic security at the expense of Christians or Jews or Hindus, I would reject it.

It’s America that taught me if a political leader says we would be greater if we got rid of those who disagreed with him, he is betraying our most cherished values.

It’s America that taught me the price of silence is greater than any risk of speaking out.

It’s America that tells me it is my only home.

There’s a little-known group of local women quietly giving away millions of dollars in the St. Louis metro area. Their nearly 240 members include both outspoken liberals and hard-core Republicans.

They call themselves the Spirit of St. Louis Women’s Fund, or SOS for short. Together, they’ve donated more than $2.5 million since 2007 exclusively to small nonprofits in the metro region. At a time when political divides are fraught, many people’s volunteer efforts and charitable giving reflects their ideological values. This makes SOS’ stealth philanthropy to a diverse array of causes even more remarkable.

The group is part of a “collective giving” trend that has skyrocketed since 2007. The idea is simple: Members recognize that they can make a bigger impact by pooling money and donating larger grants than by giving smaller amounts individually.

Shelby Schagrin brought the idea to St. Louis in 2006 after seeing a successful model in San Diego. She recruited her friend Susan Block to join her in trying to launch the same thing here. They started the fund by asking 100 friends to join them by committing to give $100 a month for at least a year.

At first, they weren’t sure if anyone else would be interested. The organization was designed to fly under the radar, and hasn’t had a single fundraiser since it started 13 years ago.

“We didn’t want to fund buildings or have big events,” Block said. “We just wanted to help people.”

 Any woman who commits to the monthly donation can join. There are no other requirements for membership. No one has to sponsor or invite a new member. There are no volunteer requirements, although many of the women do become involved with the groups they end up funding.

They solicit grant applications from area nonprofits with operating budgets under $1.5 million. They have a team of members who commit to reviewing proposals, doing site visits and going over operating budgets. Then, they put around 20 organizations on a ballot and let the members vote on how to divvy up the funds.

“The point is to make it equal,” Block said. “Every vote counts the same.”

They’ve supported more than 80 local organizations with grants ranging from $5,000 to $25,000 each.

Studies show that women at all income levels give more to charity than men. A 2018 U.S. Trust study found that 93% of high-net-worth women -- those earning more than $200,000 or having a net worth greater than $1 million, minus the value of their home -- give to charity. Of the same group, 56% volunteer, 6% participate in impact investing and 23% serve on nonprofit boards. That’s compared to 87% of male donors and 41% of men who volunteer. The same gender disparity holds true at lower income levels, and the proliferation of women-led giving circles may be a contributing factor.

Amy Inman, president of SOS, says her giving patterns reflected what other studies have shown: Women tend to give more spontaneously, in group situations and with their hearts, as compared to men. Before she got involved with SOS, she describes herself as a “knee-jerk giver, willing to donate to whoever is asking and whoever you are standing closest to.”

After seven years with SOS, she has learned to become more intentional about her giving, studying how to achieve the best outcomes for the most pressing needs.

Inman, who is self-employed, said she’s also discovered causes she never would have known about, and she’s developed relationships with women outside her usual circles that she wouldn’t have met otherwise.

The organization does not make donations to political or religious groups. In fact, they try to avoid conversations about politics or religion altogether, Inman said.

“We talk about issues that are for the good for our community that we can agree upon,” she said.

Shawntelle Fisher, CEO of the SoulFisher Ministries (not a religious organization), is one of their favorite success stories. Fisher’s organization serves the needs of youth with incarcerated parents. She applied for a $14,000 grant in 2014 when her nonprofit was launching a pilot project. She was formerly incarcerated and struggling to raise money.

Inman said SOS decided to take a “calculated risk” after they got to know Fisher.

They gave her $10,000 in 2015 to help start up the nonprofit.

“They gave us our first substantial grant, and because of that, it positioned us for others to take a chance on us,” Fisher said.

Her organization has since blossomed: It got a $1.5 million grant from the Department of Education, and now employees eight full-time staff, 12 part-timers, four AmeriCorps Vista volunteers and several students from nearby universities.

Fisher was so moved by the work SOS does that she became a member herself.

“It just feels great. I’m changing lives in my own community through this network of powerful and compassionate women,” she said.

Five other women whose nonprofits were funded by SOS later ended up joining as members in order to help fund the next round.

“Nobody does anything like a woman,” Fisher said. “Having a whole group of us together is unstoppable.”

When my daughter became old enough to go to parties unattended but still needed a ride to get there, I had a captive audience. I used this drive to revisit the dangers of opioids, pills and alcohol abuse. Even when her friends were riding with us, I’d talk about the issue while they all rolled their eyes.

“No one is passing out opioids at the eighth-grade dance,” she told me a few years ago. I often shared chauffeur duties with another mom, who had her own drive-time PSA campaign.

“She talks about sex trafficking the way you talk about opioids,” my daughter said. It seemed like a low-level risk to warn our girls about in this middle-class, suburban town in the middle of America.

In fact, it’s a bigger deal than many parents realize. The St. Louis County Police Department investigated 191 cases of human trafficking between 2016 and 2018. The St. Louis metro area is often used as a “stop-off” point because of its location in the center of the country. Some groups of children are far more vulnerable, such as homeless and runaway teens, but anyone can get entrapped. Recruitment typically takes place over a period of time and involves brainwashing, manipulation and grooming tactics before the abuse begins.

A window into this sick world opened when federal prosecutors in the Southern District of New York charged billionaire Jeffrey Epstein earlier this week with sex trafficking and sex trafficking conspiracy. He faces a maximum of 45 years in prison if convicted. The indictment alleges that he “sexually exploited and abused dozens of minor girls” between 2002 and 2005. Epstein allegedly lured girls as young as 14 to come to his homes in New York and Florida and sexually exploited them. Some of the children were used to recruit other minor victims.

The indictment describes an actual child-sex ring operation run by a man who is part of the wealthiest and most politically connected Americans. The case reveals how privileged men can avoid consequences for the most depraved acts.

In 2008, Alex Acosta was a federal prosecutor in Florida who made a secret plea deal with Epstein that allowed him to escape federal charges and a potential life sentence after being accused of sexually assaulting dozens of underage girls at his Palm Beach mansion. The Miami Herald reported last year that the plea deal essentially shut down an ongoing FBI probe into whether there were more victims and other powerful people who took part in Epstein’s sex crimes. Acosta’s office broke the law by not telling Epstein’s victims of the sweetheart deal, a judge later ruled.

The investigation involved at least 40 teenage girls. Epstein's plea allowed him to serve 13 months in jail, during which he was allowed to leave for work during the day.

Think about that: He was allowed to leave jail during the day to go to work. Did the lives of 40 traumatized girls matter so little?

And yet, there are those who have expressed more outrage about a black actress playing a fictional Disney mermaid.

Epstein’s social circles reached the highest levels of our government. President Donald Trump had called him a "terrific guy" he had known for 15 years and told New York magazine in 2002 that “(Epstein’s) a lot of fun to be with ... It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side.”

Former President Bill Clinton also had previously praised Epstein and had traveled on his private plane on multiple occasions. In the past several days, both men have distanced themselves from Epstein.

Senators knew about the secret sweetheart deal when they approved Acosta as Trump’s labor secretary.

Meanwhile, Trump picked an odd focus for his sympathy. “I feel very badly actually for Secretary Acosta,” he said to reporters.

Who feels very badly about the dozens of children who were sexually abused?

Meanwhile, Acosta has proposed 80% funding cuts for the government agency that combats child sex trafficking.

Parents can warn their children about all the potential dangers and risks they might face. But there’s no way to explain an even darker truth: Some adults are more invested in protecting predators than children.