We were sitting at a French coffee shop on my first real day in Thailand. I was eating a croissant that cost me 12 baht (a little less than 50 cents). After I was done my stomach was not quite satisfied and I became fidgety, hoping that we would leave soon so that I could get a smoothie from Zion Cafe (our ministry contact's coffee shop).
It was then that I noticed that behind me sat three older gentlemen, probably 60 years old or more, speaking in French and a Thai boy working the cash register.
What business do three French men have in Chiang Mai?
Naturally, suspicions arose in me as to why they might chose such a destination for either a long or short term stay. Where were their wives? I didn't see any women in the shop at all except for those I came with. And unfortunately the next emotion that grabbed me was a white hot anger.
I grabbed my journal and a pen and started furiously writing, asking God what I was supposed to do with all of the white men in Chiang Mai. I hadn't even thought of it before. I knew that sex trafficking and prostitution were rampant here; that was obvious. But I forgot the simple economic law of supply and demand. I knew who the suppliers were: young Thai girls mostly from villages who were likely sold into working for bars and servicing sexual desires. But the demanders of the service… these three French men perhaps?
Had it not been for a good chat with one of my squad leaders, I would have sat in that anger for days. I might never have let it go, actually. Every time I see a white male in this city I wonder what has brought him all this way to Thailand. I wonder if he has a wife, how many lies he's told to get there, and how very deep and desperate his loneliness must be if he's willing to pay for sex.
And the part that I've had to learn is that these men are not the enemy. They commit actions that make my stomach sick, but they do so out of a broken spirit. An empty heart. A wasted life. Satan would love it if I spent all of my time demonizing them, condemning them, being angry at them. But he is the enemy. And they are also the victims: of an entirely different sort, but really no better off than the girl at the bar exposing herself with the hope that she might be able to provide for her family and store up some good karma.
The real enemy is not only here in Thailand but at home in the sexualized culture that glamourizes absolutely everything under the sun. The horror of the sex industry in Thailand is just a small piece of a very complex puzzle that is our current global status. No person is my enemy; just a broken soul that needs redemption.
That's the first lesson I've learned in Thailand.
