Chapter 1
The Dress That Changed Everything
What would happen if you wore the same dress every day for an entire year? At sixteen, Bethany Winz embarked on this radical experiment, not as a fashion statement, but as a protest against modern slavery. Her project "One Dress. One Year. For Freedom" captivated thousands online and has been praised by anti-trafficking advocates like Christine Caine and Bob Goff. The memoir chronicles how a teenager's bold idea evolved into a profound spiritual journey that raised over $8,000 for anti-trafficking organizations. Featured in Christianity Today and embraced by college campuses nationwide, this coming-of-age story resonates with anyone who's ever wondered if their small actions could make a difference in a broken world. What began as a teenager's attempt to change the world ultimately changed her in ways she never anticipated.
Chapter 2
A Dress and a Dream
On a cool January evening in Florida, I'm struggling with buttonholes on a black dress I've been sewing for months. The buttons are too large for my buttonhole tool, transforming what seemed like a good idea into a frustrating reality. As I thread my Singer sewing machine, a loose curl escapes my bun-my hair and Florida's humidity have never gotten along. After another failed attempt at creating a proper buttonhole, I push back from my desk and pace, feeling tension creep up my spine.
This isn't just any dress-it's the dress I plan to wear for an entire year to raise awareness about human trafficking. The inspiration came from a woman named Elaini who wore one dress for 100 days to raise $50,000 for orphans in India. But my vision connects to the millions trapped in modern slavery. At dinner, my family offers support as I admit I've given up on making a second backup dress. Later that evening, watching Christine Caine, founder of the A21 Campaign against trafficking, I find the motivation I need to finish the dress that will become my mission.
Human trafficking had first captured my attention years earlier. The statistics were staggering: 27 million people enslaved worldwide, someone trafficked every 30 seconds, with precious few ever rescued. One story particularly haunted me-a rescued woman asking Christine, "If what you're telling me about your God is true, then why didn't you come sooner?" That question echoed in my mind, demanding a response. What could I, a teenage girl in suburban Florida, possibly do about such a massive global problem?
The dress became my answer-my voice raised in protest. I decided to start on January 11, Human Trafficking Awareness Day. I may not have been able to rescue victims directly, but I could use my everyday life to shine light on their invisible suffering. Little did I know how this simple black garment would transform not just my wardrobe, but my entire understanding of freedom, worth, and love.
Chapter 3
Going Public: First Steps Into Activism
On Day 1 of my project, January 11, 2012, I wear my black dress with an orange sweater borrowed from Pastor Sylvia for Human Trafficking Awareness Day. At Valencia College, where I take classes twice weekly while homeschooled the rest of the time, I feel conspicuously out of place. When I mention to a woman why I'm wearing orange, she misunderstands completely, thinking I'm supporting a teacher in the news rather than raising awareness about human trafficking. This awkward encounter plants seeds of doubt about the impact I might have.
By evening at youth group, my anxiety eases as friends like Erin and Morgan enthusiastically support my project. When Samantha asks me to explain why I'm wearing the same dress for a year, I find my voice: "Enslaved people wake up and face the same reality day after day without any hope for escape. My dress is a tiny way for me to help do something about that." As the day ends, I feel peace knowing my closest friends are cheering me on, even as practical challenges loom ahead.
The first week brings unexpected lessons in flexibility. During a camping trip with church members at Kelly Park, five-year-old Veronica questions why I'm wearing the dress again. I explain my year-long commitment while privately wondering if I'll actually make it through. I make pragmatic exceptions-wearing the dress over jeans in cold mornings but setting it aside for swimming in the springs. Floating downstream with friends in clear water, I reflect on how everyone deserves this kind of freedom and joy.
As the project gains momentum, I launch a blog to document each day's outfit and share trafficking statistics. My initial plan for handling donations proves cumbersome, so after receiving feedback, I decide to have donors give directly to anti-trafficking organizations and email me their donation details. I research several organizations-International Justice Mission, A21 Campaign, Not for Sale, Love146, Compassion International, and Restore International-each with different approaches to ending slavery. By offering multiple options, people can support whatever aspect of anti-trafficking resonates most with them.
The dress quickly becomes both symbol and teacher-showing me that activism requires both idealism and practicality, both passion and adaptability. Most importantly, it becomes a conversation starter, turning everyday interactions into opportunities to discuss modern slavery.
Chapter 4
Breaking Hearts for a Purpose
Hosting the "Celebration of Broken Hearts" party for Valentine's Day, we transform my house with themed decorations and treats. Morgan and I prepare heart-shaped cookies and cupcakes with #146 flags while sharing laughs (and secretly licking sugar off counters). When guests arrive, we show Love146's powerful video about child trafficking, share statistics, and hear from Mrs. Molly about her work with survivors in Nicaragua.
Though smaller than hoped, our gathering raises an impressive $591 for Love146. Yet as everyone leaves, conflicting emotions wash over me-gratitude for friends' support but doubt about whether I'm making enough difference. With my ambitious $100,000 goal seeming increasingly distant, I question if my efforts matter. Later in my blog, I reflect on how we can't look away from injustice once we know about it, quoting William Wilberforce: "You may choose to look the other way, but you can never again say you did not know."
Two months into The Dress Project, the reality of wearing the same dress daily becomes challenging-especially on days when it smells of sweat despite regular washing. During Spanish class, I daydream about the upcoming Leadership Rocks conference in West Palm Beach coinciding with my birthday. There, I gather courage to approach the band The Museum, whose anti-trafficking song "Not for Sale" inspires me. Wearing their "This Shirt Frees Slaves" t-shirt under my dress (worn open like a vest), I awkwardly explain my year-long project. Though initially confused, the band members become enthusiastic supporters, even signing my shirt.
Their encouragement reminds me that despite the dress losing its novelty for me, my mission still matters. "Fighting slavery is worth every minute of wearing the dress. Even when I am sick of it-and its ten buttons and janky buttonholes. Even when it stinks, the dress and everything it stands for is worth it."
As the project continues, I discover that awareness alone isn't enough. At the 75-day mark (20% of my journey), we've only raised about 2% of my fundraising goal. I remind blog readers that inspiration without action creates no change: "My goal isn't just for inspiration or to have an experience. My goal is change." This becomes my mantra when motivation wanes-that broken hearts must lead to meaningful action.
Chapter 5
Unexpected Encouragement and Crushing Doubt
By Day 90, three months into The Dress Project, the novelty has faded but my resolve remains strong. Blogging from my front porch swing, I reflect on how this journey differs from my previous passion for dance-this isn't about personal satisfaction but about fighting injustice, even when it breaks my heart. After connecting with Restore International, I email Bob Goff for advice about college and my dream of opening homes for trafficking survivors.
To my surprise, he responds enthusiastically, encouraging me that no dream is too crazy and offering practical advice: "Day 1: rent a house. Day 2: furnish it. Day 3: start finding the girls to fill it." Even more surprisingly, he invites me to call him directly, saying I'll "do magnificent things" with my life. When I finally gather the courage to call, Bob's enthusiastic response reignites my passion for the project. His encouragement helps me feel that the remaining nine months are manageable when I remember how many people are committed to ending modern-day slavery.
This high quickly crashes into a valley of teenage insecurity. By Day 100, I'm struggling with hormonal imbalances and excess facial hair that make me feel like a freak despite reaching this milestone. After celebrating with Mom at an ice cream shop, I discover the next day that the shop employee posted a cruel photo of me on Facebook with insulting comments about my appearance. The public humiliation devastates me just when I should be celebrating my achievement.
Mom arranges a meeting with the girl and her manager, where she apologizes and I struggle to forgive her. Though surrounded by supportive friends and family, the incident triggers deeper questions about my worth and lovability-fears I realize might connect me to those trapped in slavery, as we're all "desperate for a love to set us free." Despite my pain, I continue posting about The Dress Project, reaching $2,325 raised by Day 104.
This emotional whiplash-from Bob's encouragement to public humiliation-reveals how activism isn't a straight path but a roller coaster of highs and lows. The project is teaching me that fighting for others' freedom sometimes means confronting my own insecurities and finding my own need for acceptance and belonging.
Chapter 6
Finding My Voice in Unexpected Places
By Day 114, I'm flying to Pennsylvania as part of my family's ministry work. As a missionary kid, I've grown up visiting churches where my parents speak about their work with Cru (formerly Campus Crusade for Christ). My dad serves as editor of Worldwide Challenge magazine while my mom homeschools me and teaches writing to other homeschooled children. Their faithful reliance on financial support from others to do God's work has set an example that I now follow with The Dress Project.
Despite my uncle Rex's hospitalization, Mom and I proceed with our trip to speak at the Action-Impact girls' conference. Battling nerves and introversion, I share my journey through a video showing my first 116 days in the dress. I explain how I learned about modern slavery in middle school and felt called to action. My key message to the girls: "What are you passionate about? What makes your heart beat faster? Often, those things are passions God has given us." The weekend reminds me that following Jesus means never being alone, even when things don't go as planned.
On Day 121, a simple visit to deliver dinner to the Wells family before their move turns into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek with their four children. Despite wearing my dress, I refuse to let it stop me from playing. When I slide under a bunk bed to hide, I hear the dreaded sound-rip! The back of my dress tears, though thankfully only the top layer, not the lining. Later that evening, after a trip to the craft store, I attempt to repair the dress. After some initial frustration and an emotional breakdown witnessed by my brother Michael, I finally figure out how to attach mending fabric from the inside and whipstitch the lining back together. The dress is saved, giving me confidence to continue my journey.
By Day 162 at Kids-a-Flame Camp, I find myself being rolled onto a stage inside a giant plastic bin as a "prop" for Pastor Sylvia's sermon. Despite my nerves, I share my dress project with hundreds of kids, explaining how I'm raising awareness about human trafficking by limiting my clothing choices. When Pastor Sylvia asks about balancing work and worship, I admit I'm still figuring it out but that the project has forced me to rely on God more. The experience teaches me that God is using the dress not just to raise awareness about trafficking but to address the deepest issues of my heart.
These unexpected speaking opportunities-from conferences to camps-help me find my voice as an advocate. Each time I share my story, the mission becomes clearer, and my confidence grows. The dress becomes not just what I wear but who I am becoming-someone willing to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.
Chapter 7
When the Body and Spirit Struggle
On Day 169, I find myself in yet another doctor's office, still processing my experience at Kids-a-Flame Camp. The doctor suspects I have polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), explaining that this hormonal imbalance could account for all my symptoms-from male-pattern hair growth to acne, weight gain, mood swings, and lethargy. As she lists each symptom, I feel puzzle pieces falling into place. Mom continues asking questions while relief floods over me. These health issues have been a walk in the dark, but now I see a light ahead.
With the halfway mark of The Dress Project approaching, I plan to celebrate with dress-shaped cookies. Enough with doctor visits-it's time to have fun. At Adrenaline Youth Camp on Daytona Beach, Morgan and I spend our last day watching tiny clams dig into the wet sand. We're so engrossed that Rodney, the camp organizer, catches us racing them. Later that evening, during the final service, he surprises us by calling us up for an "unorthodox sports competition" award-a clam shell trophy for my winning clam, Gilligan.
More importantly, Rodney announces that tonight's offering will support my dress project. As worship begins, I watch 160 teenagers and chaperones drop donations into a hat. The band sings about a generation rising up to live out selfless faith as the line inches forward. I'm not alone in this journey, surrounded by people who care about ending human trafficking. It's a moment I'll need to remember when my energy for the project plummets in the coming months.
By Day 202, the excitement of summer has faded, leaving me frustrated and feeling like a failure. Living my life on a stage with the dress as my costume sometimes inspires me, but lately it feels like a weight on my chest. I want to be perfect for my supporters, but I'm constantly reminded of my imperfections. Despite my blogging, tweeting, and encouraging people to donate toward ending slavery, the response feels minimal.
My struggles with perfectionism, self-worth, and shame are intensified by Florida's August humidity and my ongoing battle with unwanted facial hair. After arranging laser treatments with Sharon, I realize my journey in the dress is uncovering layers of deeper issues. Fall becomes a season of darkness where I question if I'll ever find freedom from self-loathing while fighting for others' freedom. I cling to Albert's words-"He is good, he is enough, he will sustain us"-even when I can't feel their truth.
The physical and emotional challenges reveal an unexpected parallel-my own form of captivity to perfectionism and shame mirrors, in some small way, the bondage experienced by those I'm trying to help. Could it be that I need freedom just as much as those I'm advocating for?
Chapter 8
Unexpected Gifts and Necessary Repairs
On Day 242, I receive a package containing a Giving Key necklace engraved with the word "freedom." The sender explains these keys are made by people transitioning out of homelessness and meant to be worn until the message is embraced, then passed on. The timing couldn't be better-I'm struggling with doubt about my project's impact and desperately need the reminder of God's grace.
The next day, despite feeling like a fraud, I honor my commitment to speak at Spring of Life United Methodist Church. My passion has drained away, replaced by stubborn determination to finish what I started. With 123 days remaining, I'm no longer running on emotion but on sheer commitment-perhaps this is what growing up feels like, pushing forward even when uncertain of where I'm going.
By Day 268, I'm addressing the dress's deterioration. After ironing accidentally melts a hole in the nylon lining, I realize I need to replace the entire skirt. I cut the dress at the waistline, create a new skirt from my remaining fabric, and sew it all back together. The next day, I attempt to dye the faded top to match the new skirt, but despite following the instructions carefully, the top remains lighter. To make matters worse, I accidentally splash bleach on the front, creating pink-red splotches. Yet rather than despair, I find myself laughing. I'm learning to accept imperfection-in both the dress and myself.
On Day 312, I attend Mrs. Kim's fiftieth birthday celebration at the Winter Park Farmers Market. Instead of gifts, she's asked guests to donate to Restore International in honor of The Dress Project. Erin, Morgan, and I perform a dance to "You Are More" by Tenth Avenue North-temporarily trading my black dress for a red one. During our performance, I reflect on my ongoing struggle with perfectionism and shame, wondering if God has been teaching me that His love doesn't depend on my achievements.
After dancing, I change back into the black dress to share about Restore International with the guests. With six weeks left in the project, I'm finally feeling peace creep into my heart, recognizing that God isn't finished with me yet. The dress, like me, has needed repairs and adjustments throughout this journey. Its imperfections tell a story of perseverance and adaptation-a physical reminder that beauty often emerges from brokenness and that sometimes the most meaningful journeys involve unexpected detours.
Chapter 9
The Freedom Beyond the Dress
On Day 366, I twirl one last time in my black dress, noting its worn buttonholes and faded bodice. After 366 days of creative outfits without buying anything new, I've scheduled my final blog post with a video of all my outfits. Though I fell short of my initial $100,000 fundraising goal, I'm grateful for the $8,615.09 raised. The dress has changed me profoundly-teaching me about my family's love, the value of friendship, and bringing my own need for freedom to the surface.
As I hang up the dress for the last time, I reflect on how God has used it to show me His unconditional love. Tomorrow I'll wear a green T-shirt that reads "This Shirt Frees Slaves"-still making a statement with my clothes, still fighting for freedom. One Dress. One Year. For Freedom.
Two hundred and twenty-five days after taking off the dress, I begin college at Trevecca Nazarene University, majoring in social justice. Now I understand that justice doesn't always require dramatic gestures-sometimes it's about righting wrongs one relationship at a time. Standing in an Orthodox cathedral in Romania with my classmates, I reflect on my own vulnerabilities, including my ongoing struggles with my body. Earlier that week, we had spent time with trafficking survivors, singing together despite our different languages.
The cathedral's vaulted ceiling displays images of Jesus healing the sick. Tears fall as I touch my face, remembering my own physical struggles. I'm still learning what it means to worship through pain, still discovering that my suffering might help me understand others. During my freshman year, my pastor said we all ask two questions: Am I lovable? Am I valuable? Our only legacy is being loved by God, who weaves even painful moments into something beautiful.
This truth-that God loves us dearly-is the only one that matters, and believing it brings freedom. The dress project transformed me gradually rather than in a single moment. What began as an attempt to bring freedom to others revealed my own need for liberation-from perfectionism, from the need to prove my worth, from the belief that I had to earn love through good works.
In the end, the dress taught me that freedom isn't just about breaking physical chains but about embracing our inherent worth as beloved children of God. And perhaps that's the most powerful form of activism-not just fighting against injustice but living from a place of knowing we are already loved and free, and extending that same truth to others.
Chapter 10
The Journey Continues Beyond the Dress
Standing on a cathedral balcony in Sighisoara, Romania with fellow Trevecca students, I watch an Orthodox service unfold below. The experience feels worlds away from my teenage bedroom where I first sewed that black dress, yet the mission remains the same-to understand freedom in all its forms and to extend it to others.
The dress project wasn't just about raising money or awareness-though it accomplished both. It was about discovering that true change begins with transformation of the heart. When we recognize our own need for freedom-from perfectionism, from shame, from the endless quest to prove our worth-we become more effective advocates for others' liberation.
My journey with the dress revealed that justice work isn't sustainable when built on guilt or the need to prove ourselves. Rather, it flows naturally from understanding our own belovedness and extending that same recognition to others. The most powerful statement against human trafficking isn't just that it's wrong (though it certainly is), but that each person trapped in slavery matters infinitely because they are loved by God.
This understanding continues to shape my approach to social justice. Rather than seeing myself as a savior bringing freedom to others, I recognize that we're all on a journey toward liberation together. Sometimes that means advocating for policy changes or raising funds for anti-trafficking organizations. Other times it means simply being present with survivors, singing worship songs across language barriers, or acknowledging our shared humanity.
The dress has long since been hung up, but its lessons remain. Every morning when I choose what to wear, I remember that somewhere in the world, someone woke up without that choice. I remember that freedom is both a gift and a responsibility. And I remember that even small actions-like wearing the same dress for a year-can spark conversations that change hearts and minds.
The journey that began with a black dress continues in new forms, with new challenges and opportunities. But the foundation remains the same: we are all loved, we all matter, and we all deserve to be free. And that truth is worth fighting for, one day-and one dress-at a time.
