No, really. I’m going to tell you what a brothel is really like. (And I am looking forward to finally giving you a real glimpse into a heavy day of ministry on the World Race).
This month, we’re working with people who rescue street kids and women who have been sex trafficked.
And that’s how today, I ended up in a real, actual, underground sex brothel.
Euphemistically called “dance bars” or “cabin restaurants,” the one we went to today has an unassuming exterior door that leads to a dark narrow staircase a story below street level. It’s dark in every way.
Below the rushing traffic overhead and at the bottom of the narrow stone staircase is a small door that leads to a narrow elongated room with no conventional tables – only small cubbies or booths where clients come and order drinks and food. Included in the overpriced average food is a girl – one that a client may touch however he wishes.
While the rooms are “private,” the “restaurant” is surprisingly open. No sound in that place is covered well. I compare it to elementary school bathroom stalls with slightly sturdier walls that come down to the floor.
We were there in an hour of broad daylight overhead, and thankfully by the grace of God, there were no clients there at the time. (But the fact that these are open during the middle of the day-and that they stay open-haunts me).
Being the only people there, we had the full attention of both of the girls currently working there. They were already drunk at 4pm.
No matter, we still talked with them for a solid hour and a half.
We were a group of about 7, under the guise of being wandering tourists, so we were escorted to the biggest, longest cubby at the back of the bar when we got there.
There were no chairs, only the floor. As I thought about what happens on that floor on a regular basis, I cringed and subtly tried to squat and not sit – until one of the girls called me out and told me to get comfortable.
Impossible. But I sat fully on the floor.
We ordered Mountain Dew for everyone (you have to buy something at these places). As the glasses came, many in long shot glass-looking vials, I desperately hoped it was like India where it was okay to politely take a fake sip and then leave your drink. (Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. Toward the end, with a bladder that was already about to explode and a burn in the back of my throat from all the smoke in the brothel, I had to pound it. It made me even more nauseous than I already was.)
Some things to know:
Most of these women end up here because they come from villages where work is scarce, particularly for women. Often, they come to the city with a promise of work or education. And this is what they are brought to instead. Sometimes, their families willingly sell them into this industry, because in their eyes, the daughter finally begins to bring money into the house instead of only take money out.
Most of the time, it’s less of a physical enslavement as it is a mental one. These women are making money. They aren’t educated, and know that the money in this industry is good. They don’t see any better options. In fact, many of them go on to own brothels of their own. They grow to know the business, and when it’s all they know and it’s lucrative, they continue.
It’s definitely a case where they don’t always want to be rescued. They often don’t know any different, and don’t see a point if they’re making comparatively good money for their lack of education and experience elsewhere.
They’re also just real women. The ones we talked with today both had families. One just got married this year. The other showed us pictures of her kids.
Here’s where we come in.
Our job is to genuinely befriend them. Get to know them. Hear their story. Show them love. Then, when a door is opened, share with them why they don’t have to do this, and that there are other options. Share with them who they are in the eyes of God. Share with them how infinite their real worth is, and that no one can put a monetary price on their value. Share with them that we can help them get an education and/or work elsewhere.
Many women have been rescued this way through this organization we are working with. They have many contacts who can help them with the logistical elements- skills, employment, etc.
But since my team is short-term, we get to be part of the relationship-building process.
When we were there today, one of the girls kept saying that she loved us being there – that the entire atmosphere changed. That she felt so much joy when we were there and would be sad when we left.
I learned much today. But most of all, I was reenergized about why fighting for women’s liberation and rights is so, impossibly, indescribably crucial.
Kayla
Please be a part of shedding light on this dark industry. And for those of you that pray, be in prayer for these women whose stage names I can’t even share with you.
(To learn more about cutting off this industry at the #1 source – the pornography industry – visit fightthenewdrug.org)
