As articles have come out about the sex trafficking happening during the Super Bowl, it’s made the reality of what’s happening around me right now all the more real.
Our squad arrived in Vietnam only a few days ago in the midst of celebrations for the Chinese Lunar New Year. From the first night of exploring and walking around the city casually my heart was unexpectedly breaking over and over.
All day, not just at night, I watched as older white men walked around with their arms slung possessively around young Vietnamese women. Buying them gifts, dinner, and probably their body. At first I felt guilty that sex trafficking was my first assumption watching them, but the dark feeling in my heart as I saw these couples never went away.
And it only got worse.
On the night of the actual Chinese Lunar New Year, my sister JB and I walked through the main strip filled with bars and hostels (one of which we now live in) back to our old hostel. I saw couple after couple that made me squirm with discomfort. I desperately wanted to not feel the pain of what I was seeing but my heart kept breaking over and over until the last pair I saw.
It was a very tall older white man standing possessively behind a girl I couldn’t see yet, with his hands on her shoulders, making sure everyone knew she was his property tonight. He was talking to another older white man. It wasn’t until I passed the man he was talking to that I saw her face.
Her arms were crossed protectively in front of her chest, her soft jacket slightly pushed off her shoulders, her hair covering some of her face. And her face? Her face was filled with fear, sadness, embarrassment, shame, and worthlessness. Her face was filled with feeling trapped, feeling dirty and broken. Her eyes were downcast and near tears. Her face was filled with the reality she had no way out.
And the man was just standing behind her, chatting away with his friend, completely unaware and uncaring of what he was doing and about to do to this girl.
I burst into tears.
What is wrong with these people? Why do they think this is ok? I just don’t understand! And it has been on my mind constantly since.
I know what it’s like to be in that girl’s position, except unlike her, I had a choice. I knew what I was doing and I willingly did it so I could have that ex-boyfriend’s friendship for a few hours after. And I remember all too well, three years later, how demoralizing it made me feel. But what would it be like if I didn’t have a choice? If I was told to sell my body to men I didn’t know. If that became my life at night – with a promise of waking up the next morning feeling worthless?
I have such a big heart for talking to those involved with this lifestyle – both men and women. The women who are trafficked, and the men who think it’s ok. I pray about it constantly and I am consistently praying about having a conversation with someone about it.
But I realized, I’m just not ready.
The other night my sister Jenna and I went out to do “bar ministry.” We sat down outside and soon three older white men sat next to us. So we struck up a conversation with one of them. It was cool because we could tell he just wanted someone to listen, but then he mentioned that he has a 35-year-old woman here. I knew it was the perfect opportunity to pursue this conversation, but I realized, I just wasn’t ready. I’m not ready for the reality behind what his words might’ve been
But I want to have that hard conversation. I want to talk to someone who is living the life that keeps breaking my heart. I want to know, “Why?” I want to love on those broken people, show them care and possibly build a relationship with them. But I also know that I’m just not quite strong enough yet. I’m just not ready.
So instead, I continue to pray that G*d puts the person I need to talk to in my life. That He puts him/her right in front of my face in a way that I can’t deny or ignore. Earlier this month the L*rd gave me the name “Dillon.” So I’ve been praying over that name since He gave it to me. Maybe that’s the guy I’m supposed to talk to sometime this month, or maybe it’s the name of the guy I saw one night and felt I should talk to, but wasn’t there when I came back. Who knows.
But I just want to ask for your prayers. Prayers for what’s happening here. Prayers for the men and women involved. Prayers for the strength and wisdom and discernment to talk to those I’m supposed to talk to. Prayers that G*d will put someone in my path sometime this month that I will have that hard conversation with. That I’ll be ready when it happens. And even if I’m not ready, that I’ll obey despite my fear.
