Women in panties and thin jackets step into traffic along Figueroa Street, flagging down passing cars as families walk into nearby churches and children head to school just blocks away.
      On this 50-block stretch of South Los Angeles known as “the Blade,” prostitution and trafficking concerns are not hidden in back alleys — they unfold in plain view, day and night, between Gage Avenue and Imperial Highway, an area that has become one of the most notorious child sex trafficking corridors in the U.S.
      Church leaders say the visibility of the activity — sometimes involving young women they believe may be minors — underscores the seriousness of the crisis unfolding outside their doors.
      “When you drive down Figueroa and see young ladies standing out half-naked, it impacts the community,” said Dr. Gentry R. Atkins IV, executive pastor of Faithful Saint Mark Missionary Baptist Church. “Young people ask questions — what’s going on, who’s doing something about it?”
      For decades, the corridor has been associated with prostitution, trafficking concerns and chronic street-level instability. Officials say the area remains one of the most persistent prostitution and trafficking zones in Los Angeles, fueled by demand, poverty and limited enforcement resources, even as periodic crackdowns attempt to disrupt activity.
      Those concerns extend beyond adult sex work, Atkins said, noting that outreach teams and ministry partners have encountered individuals they believed to be minors, reinforcing fears that trafficking involving teenagers persists along the corridor.
      Law enforcement officials have voiced similar concerns.
      “It is a huge, huge issue, and everybody should be extremely concerned,” LAPD Vice Investigator Liz Armendariz of the department’s 77th Division said in previously reported remarks. “I just think, man, that is somebody’s kid, and it’s heartbreaking.”
      At Faithful Saint Mark Missionary Baptist Church, near 95th Street and Figueroa, outreach efforts have become increasingly organized in recent years.
      “Our team goes out weekly — typically nights like Thursday or Friday — walking the corridor, encouraging the ladies and trying to rescue those who want to leave,” Atkins said.
      The church conducts its outreach in partnership with Northeast of the Well, a faith-based organization housed within the ministry that provides training, street outreach support and connections to aftercare services for women seeking to exit the streets.
      Through those partnerships, church leaders and outreach workers have helped connect women with services and safe exits.
“In recent months, there have been young ladies who wanted to be rescued and were able to reach out to community partners and be picked up off the Blade,” Atkins said.
      Pastors say the environment also shapes how young people understand their future.
      “If the only people you see with money, cars, and jewelry are the bad guys, who are you supposed to aspire to be?”, Faith Way Baptist Church Senior Pastor Di’Andre Lee told LA Focus.
      Even when enforcement efforts reduce visible activity, leaders say the pattern rarely disappears.
      “It slows down, but it comes back,” added Lee.
      For Faith Way Baptist Church, located in the heart of the corridor, the crisis is no longer something happening around the church — it unfolds at its doorstep.
      On Sunday mornings, church leaders say, families arriving for worship may pass women soliciting nearby in broad daylight, forcing parents into difficult conversations with their children.
      “It’s heartbreaking,” the pastor said, recalling having to explain to his young son why a woman outside their car window had no clothes on. “That’s somebody’s daughter. Somebody’s child.”
      Church leaders say their involvement deepened after the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office hosted a press conference at the church last year, strengthening coordination with ministries, agencies and anti-trafficking groups. What followed, they say, was a broader realization that enforcement alone cannot solve the crisis.
      Other pastors along the corridor describe churches functioning as informal support hubs for people navigating the area’s risks.
      Bishop R.A. McKinley, a longtime South Los Angeles pastor, said his church provides meals, clothing and shower access for people in need, including women working nearby streets.
      “Believe it or not, they’re in need like anybody else,” McKinley said.
      He added that women sometimes come quietly for assistance in everyday clothing, seeking food or a chance to shower — and that activity generally stays away from the church itself.
      “I believe it’s out of respect,” McKinley said, noting that when they come inside, “they’ll eat, have coffee, and respect the church.”
      While pastors describe practical outreach — meals, showers, and support — Atkins said the crisis also reinforces a deeper sense of responsibility for congregations along the corridor.
      “Jesus didn’t call us to restore people who already look cleaned up,” Atkins said. “He called us to go after those that are lost.”
      McKinley said meaningful change will require both enforcement and sustained community engagement.
      “Some way, somehow, we need to reach these young ladies and reach our community,” he said. “We need to tell them there’s a better way.”
      Along Figueroa, that work continues week after week — not as a temporary campaign, but as part of the daily reality facing churches and residents along one of Los Angeles’ most visible corridors of exploitation.
      The goal for these faith leaders is not just preaching hope but providing it. Job placement. Housing referrals. Food assistance. Safe exits for women trying to leave exploitation. Immediate options for people in crisis.
      “Not just a message of hope,” Lee said, “but we want to be a center of hope.”
      “You don’t have to become a church member for us to care,” the pastor said. “If you’re part of this community, you matter.”