January 2013
Chiang Mai, Thailand
I wasn’t planning on going out that night, but at the last minute something inside of me told me to go. So I grabbed my partner in crime, Jenni, and we headed to the bars.
It was a night just like any other as we approached bar street, our destination already in mind. We had been going to this bar frequently over the last three weeks, playing pool and making small talk with the girls .Yet tonight something was off. As soon as we stepped in I could feel it. There were way more men than usual. And they were American. Military, actually. And they were rowdy. Determined, we made our way to a few open seats at the bar and ordered our usual – diet cokes. We took the whole scene in as we drank slowly, silently praying about what to make of all this. And that’s when things got interesting. One of the guys came over and started talking to us, particularly curious as to why we were in a bar drinking diet cokes. He was quiet and quite difficult to hear over the drunken hoopla of his comrades taking shots at the bar in between rounds of darts. Entertaining yet frightening at the same time.
As we were talking to this guy, I looked over and saw one of his buddies getting friendly with one of the girls, who happened to be our friend. She was behind the bar pouring drinks, and he would lean over and try to kiss her and whisper who-knows-what into her ear. He was clearly drunk, seeing her only as an object he could have his way with. You could tell she was repulsed, but hid it well as she played along. This feeling of nausea and disgust was rising up within me. I wanted to go over, punch the guy in the face, and tell him to go home. These women are not objects. They are human beings. They have hearts and souls just like you. And then I saw it. Him talking to the bar owner as he pulled out his wallet, negotiating a price, with that horrifying drunken smile on his face. My heart stopped. I looked at her and our eyes met. The look of fear and dread pierced my soul. She forced a fake smile and I forced one back. The guy then got up and made his way to the bathroom. While he was throwing up, she came over to Jenni and I. Distraught. Afraid. She didn’t want to go with him. She was pacing. Tormented, she pulled out a cigarette as a desperate attempt to calm her nerves. My heart couldn’t handle it. Her eyes of sadness. Her cries of agony. In that moment I saw a glimpse of their humanity. The truth of their reality they are forced to conceal every single night as customers pay to abuse their bodies.
I didn’t know what to do. Then it hit me, I turned to Jenni and asked how much money she had. We both pulled out all that we had in our pockets. It wasn’t much, but it was worth a try. We called our friend over and I told her we would pay for her tonight. We would pay for her to go home alone and not with this guy. I tried so hard to sound calm but I couldn’t hide the desperation in my voice. Here I was, pleading to pay for her humanity to be restored if only for a night.
And she laughed. She laughed at our offer and said she would be fine. Though the look in her eyes told a different story. My heart stopped.
Then the man emerged, wiping his face, and staggered over to the girl. She threw out her cigarette and put on the mask of happiness she was being paid to wear.
We tried one last time to provide our friend another way out, but was unsuccessful. The feelings of helplessness were overwhelming. I couldn’t stay here and watch what was about to unfold, knowing that this was just the beginning of her night of hell. So much emotion was rising up within me, I could barely keep it together. So Jenni and I quickly pulled ourselves together, hugged our friends who weren’t with customers goodbye, and began the walk home.
I felt numb. It was all too much. Tears were streaming down my face as I had an internal dialogue with the Lord about why the hell this happened. A mixture of anger and heartache weighed heavy on my heart. The images of the night replaying in my mind. I felt defeated. Discouraged. The depravity I witnessed and felt powerless to change was overwhelming.
And that was just one night. This is her reality, along with millions of others, that she is forced to live every single day.
This night only happened a few months ago, but is one I’ll never forget. It has left a scar on my heart to remind me of the women oppressed and enslaved to a lifestyle they do not deserve.
