After spending close to three weeks going into the bars on Bangla Road in Phuket, Thailand, I’ve got a lot to say. I’ve seen, smelled, touched, tasted, and heard a lot. It’s been an overload to my senses:
Sight: The crowd is thick with tourists from Australia, Europe, America, and the Middle East. There are boyfriends and girlfriends who hold hands and video cameras. Middle-aged men walk a few feet and then stop to gawk at the pole-dancers at a nearby open bar. From the street I can see women in 4 different bars dancing in little clothing. Most look bored out of their minds, some try harder because they have a customer gazing from the bar below. Still, there is no joy in their faces.
A mom pushes a stroller carting an infant daughter, while a dad holds the hand of their 6 year old son. The little boy stares at the commotion around him, as I pray that God quickly removes the memories of what he sees.
There is a bar on the second level of a building with a small glass box where one Russian girl dances around a pole. The tourists stand on the street below with their cameras pointed upward.
Down a bit farther is Soi Crocodile, the street with lady boys (men who dress like women or have been surgically changed to women). There is a small stage at the end where people are gathered around 3 lady boys dancing together provocatively.
Smell: I smell street food as I walk up to Bangla Road; meat being smoked over a grill, crepes filled with chocolate and coconut, and fresh fruit smoothies with mangoes and pineapple. The second I step onto Bangla Road, the scent of food is replaced by wafts of perfume and cologne by passersby. I can still smell traces of sunscreen from daytime beachgoers. Cigarette smoke fills my nose and I hold my breath until it passes.
Touch: I cannot walk 3 feet without bumping into someone. Whether it’s a group of young men, an elderly couple holding hands, or a woman holding a placard advertising a “ping-pong” show, I can’t go very far without human contact. I walk about 20 feet and there is a man placing a giant iguana on my shoulder in hopes I will pay him for a picture with it.
Taste: My team and I choose our first bar and we pull up a stool. I order an Iced Tea with lemon and pour it into a glass of ice. The cold beverage is refreshment from the hot, humid air around me. The bar manager puffs a breath of cigarette smoke in my face and my throat burns.
Sound: The Rihanna song “Love in a Hopeless Place” blares inside the bar, making it difficult to hold conversation. I listen as my waitress tells me her name. I smile and shake her hand, meeting her gaze intentionally as most people look at her body first. The man across the bar is talking with his waitress and I am uncomfortable with how he is touching her. I ask the woman who brings me my drink about her family. She has 3 kids who live in Bangkok and she is working here to send money back to them. Her smile fades as she talks about them. I can see how much she loves them, and how much she dislikes what she is doing in order to make ends meet. We play Jenga as we continue our conversation. As our team leaves, we hear a man negotiating a place to stay with the Thai woman on his arm.
I’d like to add a Sixth Sense to this picture: EMOTION.
I’ve felt a lot.
Despair
Comparison
Joy
Hope
The first time I walked down Bangla Road, I felt heaps of judgment. Every single man I saw, I questioned his reason for being there. I thought about him purchasing a woman for the night and got upset. I played out a scenario in my head of how much he would drink, how much he would pay, how he would treat her. I saw men walking alone and thought, “Do you have someone at home?” and “Do they know you are here for sex?”
I also saw families…with kids. Who in the world would bring their KIDS here?? It’s enough to see adults choosing to put themselves in the environment of prostitution, nudity and alcohol, but to succumb your children to it?
I had judgment, and it resulted in bitterness.
I knew I had to give away my judgment and bitterness to God. I didn’t want to hold onto it because I knew it would poison my ministry. After a night of worship and lots of prayer, I returned to Bangla Road with a redeemed perspective.
Guess what? God loves the men who are purchasing those girls just as much as He loves the girls who sell themselves.
Both the women AND the men are trapped.
The women are trapped in thinking they have no other way to provide for their family. They are trapped by the amount of money they make, and the lack of skills to find another job. They are trapped by the hope that, one of these days, a man will really love them for more than one night and sweep them away into a life of happiness and financial stability.
The men are trapped in thinking that one night of sex will satisfy their thirst for love or accomplishment. They are deceived.
At first, it’s easy to feel hopeless going into the bars, thinking “What can I do to help this situation?” or “How will little ole’ me make a difference when there are thousands of girls selling their bodies?”
God reminded me that every girl is a treasured daughter of His, and one encouraging conversation can give hope in the midst of so much heartache. So I go into the bars looking at the women as treasures who are worth more than one night with a man. They are loved for the simple fact that they are daughters of the Most High King. All I can do is love them, not from my own supply of love, but the love that Christ has freely poured out on me.
I am completely filled with joy every time I get to spend time with a woman and encourage her in a bar. Twenty minutes of time with me is twenty minutes she doesn’t have to spend being treated or looked upon as a disposable object. That is worth it.
