This was the moment I had been waiting for: a chance to visit Walking Street, Pattaya City’spremier bar district. I wasn’t there for the party scene though; I was there to see with my own eyes what I had heard about for so long – the women. I did a lot of research about human trafficking in university, and I know that Thailand has one of the worst track records in the world when it comes to the sex trade. Our contact told us that Pattaya is the #1 destination for sex tourism in the world and more than 8 million sex tourists go through the city in one year.
“Passion of Colourful Paradise”
I had done the research, knew what to expect, and felt pretty confident I was ready to face it all myself. However, all the research and facts boil down to words on a page after what I saw that night on Walking Street.
We prayed as a group before we went in and my studies gave me some idea of what to pray for, but I was overwhelmed by the reality of it all. Upon entering the street we were immediately approached by a woman with a menu of “services” offered at her bar. She assured us that it was worth our time and very cheap – only $12 for a short time. We were surrounded by neon lights and flashing signs, blaring music, throngs of tourists, and so many, many women. My heart broke for each of them as they sat at bars or stood in front of their go-gos, calling out to customers and enticing them to come in and spend money. I tried to catch their eyes so I could smile and maybe start a conversation, but it was as if I wasn’t even there. Their eyes passed over me and instead searched out the men walking by who would pay for their services and provide them with an income. The reality of it all shocked me.
I was disgusted to see foreign men walking hand-in-hand with girls young enough to be their daughters and touching places they didn’t have any right to touch. We walked down the streets and the only thing I could say was, “Jesus, Jesus” over and over again. I felt incredible sadness, pain, and love for the women whose culture and lives had demanded this of them or given them no better or other option. The hardest part of the night was when we realized that a lobster sold at a street stand cost more than a few hours of one of these women’s time – $37 vs $12. On the way home we stopped at a convenience store to get some food, and I found myself noticing the prices in a different way: “one of those women sells herself for the same price as this.” It was horrifying and too much to handle after what I had just seen, and I felt so much anger at the injustice of it all. My spirit was heavy and I felt defeated.
That’s when I remembered what our contact prayed before we started the night, and the words finally sunk in: “God, don’t let it steal our joy. Our hope is in You. You are the same in all things, and You are here.” Just because this was the first time I had experienced Walking Street didn’t mean it was new for God. He was at Walking Street before I even showed up or thought to pray for those women, and He’ll be with them long after I’ve left. He told me, “I love her, and I love her, and her” about each of the women that I had seen. “I made them each individually with every attention to the tiniest of details, and each one is a beautiful and priceless masterpiece in my eyes.” God cries for His daughters just like I do, and His heart is heavy from the injustice as well. He is still the same loving God that I trusted before I entered Walking Street, and He does not change. We went into a very dark place, but He brings light there and has promised victory over evil and freedom for these women. In Him we have joy and hope, and nothing can steal that away.
