PrintNomi Network has a very clear-cut mission—end human trafficking. Though still in its start-up phase, Nomi Network actively works to combat the leading cause of trafficking, poverty, by marketing tote bags produced by Cambodian women who themselves were victims of human trafficking. Behind Nomi’s surprisingly effective methods is Diana Mao, a 27-year-old social entrepreneur and co-founder of the organization. The Eye interviews Mao to discuss this incredible organization, the future of the nonprofit industry, and the choice to abandon for-profit for good.
What role do you see for-profit organizations playing in human trafficking and social justice in general, if at all?
I was at this event with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, and they said that 60 percent of our GDP comes from the private sector. Only 6 to 7 percent comes from nonprofits. And then think, $32 billion—that is what the human trafficking industry is worth. Do you think we can make a dent with our 6 to 7 percent, a fraction of which consists of human trafficking organizations? I really believe that the private sector has a pivotal role to play. Besides having philanthropy arms, their business strategy has to be realigned. A company donates 10 percent to environmental causes while polluting the environment with products from the other 90 percent, while nonprofits clean up their work. ... You have TOMS Shoes and a lot of companies that are changing their business model and focusing more on people. They are doing things that are out of the box—and it’s profitable.
Nomi Network is a nonprofit. Is it any different from the usual nonprofit?
Most nonprofits do a lot of awareness-raising, so it’s not so obvious if they are fulfilling their mission. For us, it’s very clear. We focus on empowerment and prevention through the marketplace. If we are not able to create more jobs and high demand for the products we’re selling, then our numbers will show, and we shouldn’t exist.
You were in both for-profit and nonprofit industries for awhile. Why go into for-profits? Could you compare the two industries?
After grad school, I worked for MAXIMUS, a consulting firm that specializes in governmental services. … I felt I could learn a lot from the profit-based, because given the limited resources of the nonprofit industry, I really wanted to understand how businesses work. ... I had to apply skills from both sectors to each other, such as project management, analytical thinking, financial management, and interpersonal skills. But in a for-profit industry, you answer to your shareholders, so in MAXIMUS, it was still very much about the bottom line—even though helping the government … was very much embedded. Whereas in Nomi Network, sometimes it doesn’t make sense financially, but you do it anyway. … In a nonprofit it’s [the culture] more team-based and laid-back, because it tends to attract idealistic people who really care and are more missions-focused. The for-profit tends to attract people who want to advance in their career and make money, like how I was in college.
So you weren’t always so altruistic.
As a child I was a little selfish, given my experiences. My parents were immigrants and we were not very wealthy, so I had to do everything for myself at a young age. I started working for myself at 15, and whatever I wanted to buy, I had to earn it myself. When I entered college, I want to live comfortably and support myself and my family. I wouldn’t say we starved, but it was sometimes paycheck to paycheck. I think a lot of Asian-Americans think like that because they come from immigrant backgrounds. So I looked at economics and accounting as a lucrative opportunity—you could really go anywhere with it.
What changed?
I decided I hated accounting after some internships—it was constantly sitting in front of the computer with minimal human interaction. I didn’t feel like I was doing anything significant. I also went overseas and saw how good I really had it. I went with InterVarsity to the slums of Cairo and saw children dancing around with open syringes and piles of trash and no shoes and flies everywhere and a stench that is so bad you want to throw up—and people live there. But I also saw the innovation: People were extracting trash and turning it into something consumable and making a business out of that. Like the Bible says, to give beauty for ashes. You’d have the women and children digging through trash with their bare hands and separating them. The plastic and cloth would be processed into plastic mats and chairs. There was an entrepreneurship, even among the poorest of the poor.
After grad school, you went to Cambodia, where a father offered to give you his daughter. What did he say?
I went to Cambodia through FINCA [International Village Banking], who came to recruit at Wagner, to do research for microfinance. The man I visited had six other kids with him, and in Cambodia they have a lot of second wives. His English was broken so it was choppy, but he said something like, “You’re from America? You like her? Take my daughter.”
Was he joking?
He wasn’t laughing. He was serious. I looked into his eyes and I could tell he didn’t want to but it was best for her. I would say that was a climactic moment, but I had heard snippets about sex trafficking from grad school so I knew that it was prevalent in Cambodia. Seeing really old men holding hands with girls that were in their teens and prancing around them really bothered me. So it was there that I drew the connection between their socioeconomic background and what they were doing.
So after that you decided to co-found Nomi Network. Where did that name come from—is Nomi is a person?
Yes. She is someone Alissa, my co-founder, and I met in a rehab center in Cambodia. Right when we got there, she ran to us. This is their first place out of the brothels, so we expected the girls to be withdrawn, but to our disproof, Nomi just ran to us. She was, at that time, 8. She hugged me and was so trusting. Her innocence was restored. She was trusting and held us and was like, "Come and see my rabbit." The director told us she has a mental disability now because of her traumatic experience. I really believe there is a hope for her. She was in a great place, we toured it—the facility, the care—and our hope was that she would really be able to arise and progress. And that’s why we decided to name it Nomi. Her name is really Naomi, but we really wanted people to know her: Know me. Know her story. Know her success.