This is Walking Street.
During the day, it may look like any other street, but come nighttime, the entire atmosphere completely changes. The lights come on, the girls take their spots along the street and the men come out to meet them. All of the men that visit Walking Street are foreigners, most of them caucasian. In fact, Filipinos aren’t even allowed on Walking Street at night.
Now I have a confession to make: this past week, I baught a girl. I danced with her on the stage, then I told her that I wanted to buy her a drink in order to gain her time. She was a 30 year old mother of 4, and she was desperately trying to make money to feed her babies. I told her about Wipe Every Tear and everything that they can give her should she decide to live in the safe houses. For some reason, it didn’t take. It didn’t feel natural, and though it was a great experience, I don’t feel like I made a great impression upon this woman’s life. I felt like there was something else tugging at my heart, but I couldn’t place it until much later.
Throughout the entire day, I saw men walking around with Filipino girls half their age, and I just knew that they had purchased these girls for the day and maybe even for the whole month. At first, I wanted to be disgusted and angry with them for using these desperate and helpless girls for their own perverted enjoyment. Yet, every time I tried to look these guys in the eye as they walked by, they looked away. That was when I realized their shame. I realized how lost they truly are and that they are just as trapped as these women, just in a completely different way. These men are searching for something greater. They don’t know what it is, so they grovel and try to satiate their desires in order to fill the void, but the next day the void is still there. Their thinking has been distorted to the point that they truly think these women live to serve them. Without them, these women would have no purpose in life; they want to be baught.
It was at this point, that I became frustrated. I’m not the type of person who gets frustrated at being a woman, because I always try to keep up with the men in my life (and they will probably say that I can do so pretty well). But for the first time, I felt helpless because of my gender. I couldn’t go up to these men and try to talk with them; I couldn’t converse with them openly in the Red Light District; and I couldn’t show them love. So what can I do? All I can do is pray. Every time my gaze is not met, everytime a man is tempted by such a fleeting satsfaction, everytime these men’s actions try to be justified, all I can do is pray. But is that enough?
