From our orientation on prostitution and the Red Light District, we learned that not just women are involved in human trafficking. Men are forced into selling their bodies as we
ll. Many are forced to get sex changes so that they can get more business. Sometimes, they are pretty easy to spot. But most of the time, you wouldn’t even be able to tell unless you look closely. You can usually spot them because of their face structure or their Adams apple. These “women” are called Ladyboys.
Today was my first time seeing one.
We were riding in the back of a truck formed into a taxi with bench seats and a roof. Kind of like Jeepnies from the Philippines. But “she” came onto the truck and sat down. She was wearing a super short, bright pink dress. She had long hair, makeup, heels, painted toes and nails, and a purse. At first glance, most people would see just a woman. But she sat down across from me, and I looked at her and immediately thought something wasn’t right about her from the looks of her face. We caught each others eyes for just a moment, but there was an exchange in just that short glance. She looked at me and I looked at her, and I knew that she knew Who was looking back at her from inside of me. And she knew that I knew who she was.
She looked away, almost like she had been caught in a crime. The Light was shining on her.
As we sat there, I studied her to confirm what I already knew. Sure enough, she had an Adams apple. She was petite enough, though her hands and feet seemed more masculine. And just something about her face gave her away, at least to me. With a closer look, I noticed scars and old marks on her.
There was one that looked like a cigarette burn on her arm, and other marks up her legs. (see blog “As It Is In Heaven.”) The old familiar tightening in my chest came on me as my heart felt for her. What kind of pain and torture had this person been through? I couldn’t begin to imagine. I didn’t want to. I looked at her face pointedly and she looked back at me for what could have been an awkwardly long few seconds. I gave her a kind smile, and she returned it with one that made my skin crawl. I knew it was the kind that she flashed at men and women to hook them. For just one second that seemed to last an eternity, my stomach felt sick. For just one second that stretched out into much longer, I felt a new emotion toward her: repulsion. For just one second, I knew I could look at her and be disgusted by her. And one second is all it took to realize the spiritual battle that was taking place right in that truck. All Satan needs is an opportunity. All he needs is a foothold. And I knew he wanted to use this second in time to get a hold on me.
Yes, to the world, what she is doing is disgusting. But you know what? We’re all disgusting in whatever sin is in our lives. She’s no worse than me, and I’m no better than her. Her sin is my sin, and your sin. Because there is no sin under Heaven that God looks at as worse than another. I wasn’t going to give in to that snake’s temptation. So I used the same second that he wanted to use for evil, and used it for good. I went to battle for her. I prayed fervently for her, and tears of compassion for her, and anger for the demons clinging to her, sprang to my eyes. What must this person be thinking, sitting on a truck full of white women? Did she feel shame? Did she feel condemned? Did she feel alone? Did she want to cry out to us for help? I don’t know. I’ll never know. But she’s a person. And I can’t for one second dare look down on her. Because a second is all it takes to fall.
This is war. And if I don’t fight for them, then what the heck am I doing here? I love them. God, I love them so much. Give me more of Your heart for them. Keep breaking and showing and revealing. I want to go deeper, no matter how much it hurts.
Lighting Up the World,
~Eryn
