I’ve tried writing this blog for at least an hour now. Typing and deleting everything I write. Because the truth is, nothing I write captures my heart. It’s one of those things, that I can’t just “tell a story” and get it across.
I woke up this morning, intent on having lunch with some prostitutes. Well, everyone here sees them as prostitutes anyway; I simply see them as friends. I met them at a bar a few nights ago, visited them again last night to celebrate Lee’s birthday, and invited them to lunch today. When I called Lee this morning, I didn’t even expect her to answer the phone. She did. When she agreed to meet us for lunch, I didn’t have very high expectations. I mean, she told us herself she sleeps all day. When she showed up, I was surprised. I was beyond excited, but I was honest to God surprised. And as I think about that, I do feel a little guilty. Nobody thinks anything of these women. Nobody expects them to amount to anything or to actually be true to their word. They are fed lie after lie about their worthlessness and purposelessness in this environment they live in, and here I am not even believing they’ll show up. Thank God they did.
So anyway, I know you’re still probably thinking, “What’s the big deal about the booth?” Well, I’ll get there. Just be patient with me.
We’re sitting there having coffee and well, life happens. Reality sets in. Lee shows us the bruises on her arms from her 20-year-old client last night that, in his drunken state, pushed her around, as well as the bag containing rubbing alcohol and bandaids she used to clean him when he, in his drunken state, cut himself with a bottle. So, not only did she get to be his plaything for her birthday, she also got to be his mother. We tell her she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this and you can tell it hits her. She doesn’t want to be, but it’s what she knows-it’s all she knows. We tell her about SHE and you can tell it seems to good to be true. We promise both of them it’s real-life can change. This leads us into talking about families. Both Lee and Jung have children. Both live with their ex-husbands. Jung says she can see her daughter if she goes and visits her husband, who now lives with many women by the way, but she can never bring her back here. Lee says she has not seen her son in over two years and her husband will not let her. This is the first time I had to comfort my crying friend in this very booth.
You see, here is the thing most people don’t realize about these women. They are people. That sounds so simple and almost stupid to say but sometimes I think people forget that. These are people we’re talking about here. People who have feelings. People who deserve to be listened to. As I sat there watching Lee cry, yearning to see her son, I realized-she probably hasn’t had the opportunity to cry over this because she probably hasn’t had anybody to care.
Conversation eventually shifts and Lee stops crying. I don’t even remember what we were talking about when it happened but all of a sudden, Jung, who’s on the phone at this point, is hysterical, crying, and yelling things in Thai to Lee, who then joins in the hysterical crying. Drea and I don’t know what to do besides comfort our crying friends because, well, we had no idea what was going on. And then Lee tells us. Their friend was killed by a ladyboy last night. So here I am, holding Lee as she cries for the second time, doing everything I can to hold back tears of my own. We offer to go to the hospital with them but they turn down the offer. They need to go over to the bar to clean up first. After all, tragedy doesn’t mean you’re done being a prostitute.
I wrote this in my journal after the girls left, as I cried for probably a solid half an hour:
Their friend just got killed and they have to work tonight. They literally break down on our shoulders because they’re in a profession that stifles their emotions, one that doesn’t allow this to happen. All these people walk around this town like it’s a happy place when they just don’t have a freaking clue. These girls are dying. They’re literally dying to just be, to express themselves, to be the emotive women that they are. They’re dying for someone to listen to them, dying for someone to wipe that tear. They’re dying for someone just to give a damn and remember they’re human too. But no, instead they’re trapped in a way of life that forces them to make friends with their customers, lean on prostitutes for support. They’re trapped in a life where they support families they can’t see and nobody seems to care.
So yea, I can’t really explain to you anymore. I can’t really story tell in a captivating fashion at the current moment so you’ll have to forgive me. But know that at the current moment, my heart is broken for these women. My heart is broken for this life they are living and how it is literally sucking them dry. Please, please, please pray for both Lee and Jung. Pray that they have the courage to leave the bar and come to SHE. Pray that tonight, they have no customers and have the opportunity to simply grieve. Pray they realize the truth we spoke over them-that they deserve more and have purpose-is truth and they can start walking freely in that.
**I’ve been ministering with at least 2 girls throughout my whole time here. While one changes each night I go out, the one has consistently been Drea. Drea was with me today when all of this happened and she posted a blog about her take on everything as well. I’d encourage you to check it out at her blog if you haven’t already**
