dig·ni·ty noun \ˈdig-nə-tē\

the quality or state of being worthy, honored, or esteemed.
Go to Liberia. Serve as a Dignity Advocate.
Your caring presence, your smile, or your hug can bring a kind of healing that medicine alone cannot. Women who have suffered with fistula are in desperate need of kind, authentic, human connection. Often outcast from family and community, part of the healing journey for these women includes regaining the self-esteem that comes from being valued by others.

As a Dignity Advocate™, you can offer these sacred gifts in-person. When you travel to Liberia, you’ll spend time in pre- and post-operative care units, getting to know women and hearing their stories. You’ll see some of the challenges faced daily by healthcare providers in this recovering nation. You’ll visit local orphanages and spend time giving love to children who will repay you with joy. Most of all, you'll be forever changed, knowing that you have played a small part in restoring what these women have lost: dignity.


Let Us Know if You're Interested

Please let us know if you are interested in serving as a Dignity Advocate* providing your contact information below. Thank you.

While costs can fluctuate, on average the cost involved in serving as a Dignity Advocate is approximately $3,200.00 (includes vaccinations, passport, visa, food, lodging, and air/ground transportation). Most trips are scheduled to last two weeks.

*Please note: A completed Dignity Advocate application, travel waiver, and attendance at an informational meeting are all required for consideration as a potential team member.

I want to know more about serving as a dignity advocate.

IF YOU CAN'T GO, GIVE.


Travel to Liberia is costly, both in time and money.  If you are unable to travel as a Dignity Advocate, consider helping someone else to go in your stead.  

ONE ADVOCATE'S STORY

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Martha Griffin said, "When asked to go back, I said, yes, without even thinking about it."
Sometimes people do things without knowing why they are doing them. I realized I fell into that category when I decided to return to Liberia for the second time in early 2020. I can confidently say I never thought I would go back after returning from Africa in 2019. My work over there, although incomplete when I left, was done—or so I thought.

For my first trip to Liberia, I had a simple task which was to teach young female students how to make feminine hygiene kits. Because young girls often do not have money or resources to purchase these kinds of products, making their own would allow them to go to school uninterrupted all year long. Even though we did some amazing work, there was no possible way to visit every school in Liberia to teach every student how to make these kits. It wasn’t long after we got back, that one of the trip organizers had a new idea. We needed to teach teachers so they could teach their students.

Despite this new direction, I didn’t think I would be asked to go back, so I decided to make 50 patterns for the Liberian teachers. With those patterns, they could teach young women the same thing they learned, and they could make additional patterns. I told a few friends what I was doing, and before long, several women were helping me make patterns. Fifty patterns quickly turned into 100. However, I needed scissors. Lots of scissors. Good scissors.

Once in a while, we get confirmation in life that we are doing what God wants us to do. I got that confirmation when a single person heard my need for scissors and donated 100 pairs.
Because Liberia is so hot and humid, and because of personal experience trying to work with paper patterns, we also needed 400 thick plastic pieces from which to make the additional patterns. In the heat, paper disintegrates, so I came up with the idea to use plastic placemats for the pattern material. My friends and I visited every Dollar Store in the area, and were able to get our lot of placemats. In addition to that, we also got all the thread, fabric, needles, and thimbles we needed to produce 125 kits for the Liberian teachers. I thought I was only going to ship the kits and be done with the project.  When Dignity:Liberia’s President, Kathi Gutierrez, asked me to go back with them, I said, “yes,” without even thinking about it.
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By making all of those kits, God had a plan for me. He was preparing me all along to teach the teachers in Liberia. When we started discussing the upcoming trip, I learned that we would need 250 kits. We decided to cut the large patterns down to make the additional kits we needed. It was very much a 2-fish and 5-loaves-of-bread moment. God was working.
When we got there after the long trip, the girls were so excited to see us, and many of them remembered me. After traveling halfway around the world and driving down mile after mile of dilapidated roads, we finally arrived at our destination. One of the girls saw me, ran to me with her arms out, and said, “Grandma! You didn’t forget us!” It was at that moment everything came into focus, and I knew I was exactly where God wanted and needed me to be.

We overcame obstacles such as the lack of interior lighting and I learned there was nothing we couldn’t overcome. We taught the classes in the schools and most girls left with at least a few completed pads and patterns to make more. In all, we taught nearly 200 women and men how to make pads and kits.
Sometimes I wonder why I ever went to Liberia the first time. Was it adventure I was looking for? Was it just because I could say I’d been to Africa on a mission trip? Once I arrived, it didn’t take me long to understand why I went. I have a desire to help people. I have a need to help people help themselves, but it took going halfway around the world for me to realize how strong that desire was. At 72-years-old, I overcame the oppressive heat and humidity, the adverse conditions, the long rides down horrible “roads,” and lack of modern conveniences because of one thing: people. Was the trip hard on me physically? Yes. Was it worth it? Yes. “Grandma, you didn’t forget us,” made it worth it. People made it worth it.