The illegal trade of human beings is something we at Adventures are passionate about ending for good. So this January, Human Trafficking Awareness Month, we’re telling real-life stories of people who have been trafficked, bringing awareness to their plight and hopefully an end to the trade.
Nicole Wolf of 2016 Expedition Squad spent her last two months pre-Launch reaching out to sexually exploited women in Calgary, Canada. She had no idea that while sharing the love of Christ, she’d find freedom herself.
It started with an exchange on the sidewalk. She was alone and working. It was after dark, and we were both trying to stay warm in the chill of Calgary’s first snow of the year.
“Hey,“ I ventured, “it’s cold tonight. Do you like tea?”
She smiled, and asked politely what I was doing.
Actually, I had been looking for her. I’d seen her flagging down cars while I’d been waiting for my other two friends to show up. Weekly, my friends and I had been walking the streets to form relationships with sex workers. We are human links to rehabilitative services for those who are ‘ready to leave’. Not everyone is ready, but when they are, we are an exit point with a face.
At the very least, a hot drink and an encouraging word can soften a cold night.
She kept looking past my shoulder.
“Just a minute,” Lisa* said, and hurried across the parking lot to an idling semi-truck. I walked away a few yards to give them privacy. Within five minutes, my friends had joined me, and she was on her way back. “Can we take you for tea?”
“Oh.” Lisa seemed embarrassed for our sake. “I’m not good for you girls.” She seemed to think from our smiley faces that we hadn’t clued in to her profession. It took a couple minutes of assuring her that we did, indeed, know what she did and yes, we wanted to have tea with her anyways.
A big smile lit up her petite face when she realized it. We saw her, and we loved her because of it.
Do you notice how some people (mostly, the wealthy ones) can get angry when offered intentional kindness? It’s as if receiving charity would threaten their façade of independence. Why is it that those considered the ‘most broken’ people are often the most open to receiving love?
I think it’s because they don’t have this mask on that says everything’s all right.
When you climb out of the semi truck cab where you just serviced a client, and agree to go for tea with a stranger, you aren’t trying to hide anything.
Suddenly, a pickup screeched in behind us. Two heavy-set men in their late middle ages leered out at our little group of women, enjoying the strange sight we made.
In voices amplified by alcohol and punctuated by impatient honking, they made their expectations clear. It was obvious they expected Lisa to do whatever they wanted, and weren’t used to being refused.
She was obviously afraid. I was too.
At this moment, please let go of any perception that Hollywood gives of prostitution. What happens in Calgary isn’t a scene from Moulin Rouge, sparkling with the glamour of wealthy clients in top hats and diamond–studded cushions.
This industry is dangerous, and the people inside are kept from escape by the fear of abuse, the torment of addictions, the pressure of poverty, and the resignation of shame.
Lisa hesitated for about a full minute, maybe trying to weigh the danger of servicing these two violent men with the danger of refusing them.
“Oh, I don’t want to…” she said, sneaking looks back and forth from our faces to their red puffy ones, as if searching for permission.
That was all the invitation we needed. “Then DON’T!” we said, “come have tea with us instead!”
She made up her mind in an instant. “Okay!” she smiled, and flounced towards the nearest fast-food joint, with us tightly surrounding her on every side.
Her ability to trust and receive deeply challenged me even in that moment.
Since many are tricked into prostitution by the kindness of pimps, pimp-boyfriends, or other sex workers, I’m always surprised when ladies trust us.
But Lisa decided we were safe. She trusted we wanted nothing from her in exchange. She accepted our invitation.
Soon, the four of us were eating curly fries and drinking tea. On her own initiative, she poured out her life story beginning to end, confident we would listen to every word.
“I have to believe that I’m worth better, and keep my standards high. These younger girls don’t know what they’re worth. They sell themselves short, and it affects all of us.”
She was soaking in our attention and prayers and encouragement like sunshine at midnight. We were basking in the honor of being trusted with her most intimate stories and her carefully protected emotions.
Although Lisa mentioned several times that she could’ve made a good income that night, given how busy the streets were, she carried the conversation for over an hour.
She was shining.
Her bruised hands, with two-month-old nail polish and grime rubbed into the cracked knuckles, reached across the table and gently took mine.
We’d both just seen a glimpse into the heart of God, and were fighting back tears of gratitude.
In the end, she said she wasn’t ready to leave the industry, but she made sure we all got a bear hug before she left. “I don’t think I’ll go out any more tonight. I feel like going home and taking a nice bath and reading a book, you know? Do something for myself, for once.”
And she walked away, haughtily ignoring the circling cars, while I fought back tears of gratitude. Her strength exposed me. She’d soaked in more love in that hour than I did in a month.
Secret: I struggle to let myself be loved.
I’ve always been the “tough one”, the strong woman who is there for every other person. I’ve sort of wrapped my identity in it. How unhealthy.
The result: I struggle to ask for or accept help, or to trust that people love me despite what I do for them. I fear that if I don’t stay strong, people will not want to be around me.
I didn’t think my last two months in Canada would be as hard as they were. The ‘breaking-down’ I experienced at training camp exposed all those masks, decoys, and excuses I’ve made to hide my softest self and avoid vulnerability with both God and man.
You want to know what it feels like to fake strength? It feels like being a like a too-tall, teenaged Sasquatch with glasses, covered in long fluffy grey hair and frumpy sneakers, trying to fit into high school all over again. It’s smiling while my heart shrivels into a prune, like the Grinch. I want to hide in a cave and double-hate everyone in the phone book.
All the while, like the shelling of a machine gun, the lies are coming into my brain so fast and hard I can barely deflect one before the next hits:
“If people find out who you are, they’ll never love you.”
“There is no safe place for you … you’ll never find a home.”
“You’re not worth Love.”
Lies, every one!
So, I’m going to do something for myself, for once.
Here are three things I’m doing to become more absorbent of love:
1. Communicate needs.
Apparently, my friends can’t understand my needs telepathically. How silly, I know! I thought only married couples struggle with this. So I’ve been saying this radical new thing that goes like, “hey everyone, I need __________.” It’s humbling, and effective.
2. Talk about emotions.
Sometimes I fear showing the emotions of packing up my life here are too intense for people to handle. So I tried actually crying last time I felt scared. Achievement unlocked! And my friends loved it! They felt trusted and honored, go figure.
3. Receive love from Love Himself!
It’s tempting to shut down and tell myself that others can never love me right, so why expect it? Actually, the problem is me. (I’m not saying everyone else is perfectly loving. They’re not. I am saying that if I’m not absorbing God’s love, I am the only one blocking it.)
God is the only source of true, unearned love. And He never stops being loving, even when no one can recognize it. Just like the mountains never cease to be beautiful, even when there’s no one looking at them. If I find myself in a couple months sitting in a pitch-black cell in the bottom of the earth in complete isolation, I’m still going to be experiencing the love of God.
It’s simple: if you find love in God, Love Himself, then you’ll see love everywhere. In the serenity and hush of the first snowfall, in the eyes of the homeless man downtown who is cracking jokes with you to stay warm, in the darkness that night brings to slow us down from each hurried day.
But if you don’t find love in God, even the kindest eyes of a friend will look manipulative and cold to you.
A sex worker in Calgary taught me that.
Are you fed up with the sex trade? Do you want to be a part of seeing it end? Click HERE to find out how you can GO and end it in Fall 2016!
