Kylie and I went to Thailand to check in on X Squad for a few days in Pattaya, Thailand. Pattaya is one of the world’s major hubs for human trafficking and prostitution. The city was basically founded on it and sex tourism quadruples the population. The epicenter of this tragedy is called “Walking Street” and I was humbled, heartbroken, inspired, pissed of, devastated, empowered, and deeply saddened to get to make the long walk down Walking Street with a group of extraordinary men. Here is some of what we saw.
A giant arch with the words “Walking Street” rainbowing above it welcomed us into this den of sadness. The music is loud. The bars are decorated like Times Square – a plastic car coming out of a wall, virtual-reality games on the street, bright neon lights. There are a few street-performers and a guy making street food. Bars are shoulder to shoulder, sometimes two deep and two-to-three high.
As soon as we walk through the arch, a man thrusts a ‘menu’ in my face, a laminated list of sexual activities matched with a price list, complete with graphic pictures. We shake him off as fervently as he pleads. A few steps further and there is a group of women wearing matching ‘outfits’, which are next to nothing. They have numbers on them rather than nametags. Maybe nametags are too big for their tiny clothes. Maybe their humanity is intentionally being shaded from customers. They literally grab our arms, smack our butts, smile at us and invite us into the bar or strip-club next to them.
We keep walking.
Another couple men thrust menus in our faces. One fast talking guy invites us into a place and tells us how it works. One of our guys tells him about Jesus and he looks perplexed. A ladyboy tries to make eye-contact with us, a blank expression and a desperate plea in her eyes. Another group of prostitutes grab at us. Then another. And another. Then a menu guy.
We keep walking.
A beggar is on the curb. A man too drunk to stand stumbles past us. A pair of glass boxes on the second story have women dancing in them; they look like young teenagers. Another man pushes a menu in my face. Another man does the same a step later. A prostitute pulls at us and has a biting attitude when we say no. It is a strange kind of torture to be forced into this line of work and then rejected while doing it. A pair of very drunk guys dance wildly in the street with some prostitutes.
We keep walking.
A man comes up to me and I assume another pornographic menu is going to be inches from my nose. Instead, he pulls up his sleeve and offers me the cocaine taped to a little baggie on his wrist. Another man with a menu follows him closely. Another prostitute grabs my forearm and I literally have to wrestle myself loose. A middle-aged man comes up to a young girl and wraps his arm around her. They disappear behind a door. Another middle-aged man gropes a young woman in a dress on a barstool.
We keep walking.
We feel punched in the face. Appalled. Disgusted. But we are starting to remember who we are. A couple of our guys find some people to talk to. One of our guys starts praying and worshipping, a courageous and noticeable difference in that dark place. People dodge him and shoot back double-takes, wondering what that anomaly is all about. Standing still is hard. I just want it to be over. But I know I’m called to such a place as this. We are the light in the darkness. We are a city on a hill.
We keep walking, this time on a mission rather than in a hurry.
We pass a police stand with two guards. They are there to protect the tourist. The tragedy would be if money stopped pouring into Pattaya. That is the value being protected. A couple walks by holding hands, an American couple, and I wonder what they are doing here. A family is pushing a stroller through the chaos. A child, about 5, is bee-bopping around my ankles. I can’t imagine why kids are here just as much as I can’t imagine what these cops are ignoring.
We keep walking
At last, we get to the end. We take a minute and talk about what we’ve seen. The incredible aggression and multitude of the menu guys. How completely not-tempted we are because this is so, so far from what our hearts truly want. The shock that there are kids and tourist and cops here. The unabashed, unapologetic reality of this place.
And then, we turn on our heels and make the whole walk again. We get to the arch and then many of us make the walk again. And again. And again. I am inspired by the smiles our squad has as they talk to people, the desperate way the women of our squad seek out prostitutes to talk to in some of the dark corners of the street. I’ve never witnessed a group of people collectively devastated and activated in the exact same space.
What was at first a hard place to be in becomes a hard place to leave. There is so much sin, so much evil, so much to get away from. But we found there is so much to say, so many prayers to offer, so many lives that matter, so much to stand for. Some of our squad went back the next night and the night after that, choosing to stay up late and spend their free time making the long walk through hell on earth.
I’ll never forget our night on Walking Street. I can never erase from my memory the horrid images we saw. Neither can I erase the memory of the church worshipping, ministering, being, in such a place as this.
No matter what we encounter, we keep walking.
