They walked out of the door, gave each other a slight “well that happened” smile, waved and walked in separate directions.
This is what I see when I am asked what’s what will stick with you about Walking Street.
For a little background, Walking Street is known for its brothels, go go clubs and bars. This is a whole street dedicated to the solicitation of men, women and children to whoever has the money and willingness to pay.
As a squad, we took to Walking Street to pray, to engage in conversations and to be the light in the darkest place I’ve ever been.
Knowing what I was walking into I had the weirdest sense of peace. I wasn’t anxious, I wasn’t nervous, I was at peace.
How do you feel at peace knowing soon you will be one of the darkest and heaviest places on earth? My only answer is God. He gave me His peace and His lens for the night….
As my group of 3 squadmates turned the corner, it was like nothing I had ever seen before. All the lights, all the people, all the noises, everything. Overwhelming doesn’t even begin to describe the stimulation in front of us.
This is not a place where what’s happening is hidden. There are women, barely dressed, dancing on the street- trying to entice you into their club, there are bar mothers negotiating with buyers for what they want, there are men shoving “menus” into your face. These menus do not describe the food and drinks you can purchase, but they describe the women. The type of women you want, the specific act you want. It was pictures of porn where you get to point and say “I want that”. There are children walking around, some with parents, others without. There are tour groups. They literally had tour bus groups walking through like this is an attraction to see.
Why do you think this is something to see? Why would you bring your child to see this? Do you even think it’s wrong?
With all these thoughts racing through my mind, I still wasn’t angry. I wasn’t angry at the parents, I wasn’t angry at the men, I wasn’t angry at the situation.
I was sad.
Sad that women are literally trafficked, tricked, and sold into this.
Sad that we have made objectifying women a “normal” thing that there are entire streets and cities dedicated to it.
Sad that these women think this is all there is for their lives.
Sad that men are so broken and searching for “something” they find themselves here.
Sad that people thought it’s a tourist attraction.
Sad that whenever I looked into someone’s eyes and smiled, they either turned away in shame or they looked at me in confusion. Why are you happy here? Happy people don’t go to Walking Street.
Sad for the children I saw and automatically fearful that they too were being sold to fulfill the desires of a tourist.
Sad that there is the demand for this.
Sad that there is nothing I can do about it.
Or is there…
We bought one of the women a drink and talked with her. Once she realized we weren’t there for sex, she became very disengaged from the conversation and eventually left us to a table full of men.
I felt so defeated, I failed, I couldn’t even talk to her for 15 minutes. She left us anyways.
But I did not fail. I went when He told me to go. I saw what He wanted me to see.
For that 15 minutes of conversation, that was 15 minutes she did not have to degrade her body.
That’s 15 minutes she could feel love knowing people wanted to hear her story.
That’s 15 minutes she can look back on and wonder why we were different.
That’s 15 minutes she can look back on and wonder if there is more to this life. If there is more to her life.
I may have left feeling defeat, but I was not defeated.
Who knows what will come from that 1 drink, that 1 conversation, those smiles, those prayers, the food I bought for the lady and her child, the roses that were given out.
I will never get to see what comes from my actions that night, but that does not keep me from acting.
