She had been in Phuket for just nine days. She came from Northern Thailand to earn money for her family like the thousands of other girls on poles who seduce white foreigners. It was evident that she wasn’t broken in…yet. Her pink, floral print dress that fully covered her cleavage gave away her innocence. She hadn’t yet fallen for the booty shorts and transparent lace tops. She disclosed to me that she was looking for a new bar because her manager wanted her to “do this” with customers. She clamped her hands together to imply sexual actions. Sweet girl…24 just like me. I met her last night and retrieved her number. Success.
Well, here I am…in one of the places I originally intended to come, doing the ministry I initially set out to do. Whenever I soak in this grand fact for even a few seconds, I am in awe at His faithfulness all over again. I’m in Thailand at a popular sex tourism destination. Known as having some of the most beautiful beaches in the world, Phuket displays a glimpse of the essence of God’s majesty. These two actualities collide: the beauty and wickedness. Is the Light bright enough? I was so greatly anticipating this work, and it came like what has seemed to be alll too quickly. Am I really ready? Am I ready to fight against some of the greatest darkness that exists in this world? I’m definitely not, but He is. He understands how to fight for justice better than my mind could ever intend to comprehend. I just put myself out there and make myself available.
Every other night, I get dolled up and hit the bar strip with my friends Emily and Krystle. We pull out the cutest possible clothes we can salvage from our packs and actually apply a little makeup, attempting to look like the other white tourist girls from places like Australia and Spain. This is quite the mixup from the previous three months of long skirts and greasy hair in Africa. At 8PM, worship begins in the great room on the second floor. I, along with 30 others sweat profusely, singing and interceding for the night to come. We board a fantastic, air-conditioned taxi van at 9PM. Arriving at the central square, we pray again by the Starbucks as passerby's stare and snicker. We're off…
We're off to neon signs, souvenirs, live bands, and tourists with crispy, red skin. Soon, we turn the corner onto Bangla Road and sights begin to change. What reminds me of the boardwalk back home quickly transforms into the most disgusting place I've ever encountered. Men galore, whose arms link with near-naked Thai girls. The men range from fraternity boys in their board shorts to the guy in his Sperry's with his balding grey head and wedding ring. Locals shove laminated sheets in my face that read, "Ping Pong Show." The shows take place in closed bars and are undoubtedly explicit. Blaring music intersects from all directions. Lady boys make their expected mark and parade body parts for all to see. It's not difficult to spot a few families here and there, sometimes with strollers, which always boggles my mind. A large glass box stands on the second story at a place called "Moulin Rouge" about halfway to the beach. The cube contains a pole in the center with a beautiful, blond-haired girl twirling and twirling, her eyes glazed over. The place blatantly advertises, "Russian Girls!" Every single time I step foot onto Bangla, I am saddened all over again.
Stephanie May
Or work begins as we stroll up and down the side streets of Bangla, following inklings and leadings from the Lord. Our mission is to meet and build relationships with the bar girls. Though no night is like another, we have a protocol. We typically look for bars that aren't too packed with customers so that we aren't scolded for "keeping the girls." We sit down and order Coke, Red Bull, or orange juice. The bartenders find this peculiar. Already, we are in the spotlight. One of the girls usually breaks the ice by brining out a Connect Four game. If she doesn't, we ask…"do you have a game?" After she beats all three of us over small talk, we begin to ask her questions about herself, eventually leading into questions about her job. It's fascinating how honest most of them are. Just last night, Krystle asked a girl if she liked her job. The girl shook her head and told us about her family of nine in Northern Thailand. All four of us begin to tear up. I slip a small piece of paper in her hand that contains information about hotel training and English classes. I know deep down that she doesn't want to make less money. But just maybe one day, she will realize that she is worth more than foreign men who only love her body. Maybe one day she will break.
And so we love her and part ways by giving her a hug. If things have gone well, we ask for her phone number to set up a time to get pad thai or ice cream if she agrees. I can't imagine what she is thinking, but I can only hope that it is good. I hope that she sees true Love in us. I must believe that she does, for 2 Corinthians 2:14 says, But thanks be to God who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere." We tell her that Jesus loves her more than anyone. After 20-30 minutes, we depart, scouting out a new bar and another girl.
"I wonder what it must feel like to be a girl in the bars. Having an occupation in which you must lure in men…men you will never love. Maybe you are providing for your family. They're well off because of your sacrifice. You're honoring them. Is it worth it? Are "you" worth it? Is it even okay to think for a second about abandoning your family and culture…maybe even your faith for your own dignity and self worth? Sister, it is! Run toward it! May your fears be stripped! Do you know that you are dearly loved? He loves you. I pray that you will see a glimpse of the freedom that is readily waiting just for you. No shame, no guilt, no looking back. He takes you as you are." -April 16th journal entry
This has been a difficult month. Though I should lack excuse, it does have much to do with why I haven't written any blogs. We have seen a girl come home with us, only to decide that she wanted to return to the bars. We have set up multiple dates in which the girls didn't show. We know they were probably with their customers from the previous night. It has been discouraging in many regards, but I have seen little breakthroughs that somehow bring hope. I can't lean on what I see, but on the things that are unseen. My team has been clinging to this verse in 2 Corinthians 2:18. An enormous part of this month has been intercession. While half of us are ministering, the other half are at home worshipping and praying. Every day, we walk the streets, praying for the evening ministry. Now with tonight being my last night on Bangla, I plan on visiting many of the girls I've become friends with to say goodbye. This may be one of the most difficult things I will have to do.
“I see a mountain, you see a miracle. I see a wasteland, you see a garden. I see a dry bone, you see an army. I see impossible, you see everything.” – Jonathan David Helser
