The following blog was written by my sweet teammate, Liz. You should visit her blog because she’s an awesome writer.
 
 
Ang’s
birthday was on Friday. Lindsay, Stacy, and I went out armed with a
lei and a brownie to celebrate with her. We decided that earlier was
better, so we got to Soi Sea Dragon at about 9:30. Lindsay asked one
of the girls at the bar if Ang was there.

The
answer was disheartening: “No, she’s not here.”
When
a girl isn’t at her bar, there’s only one explanation for the
absence. And being sick is never in the equation.
We
asked when she would be back, and the girl said probably around 11.
We promised to return, and went back to our base at Starbucks. I sat
there thinking: Someone bought my friend on her birthday. Someone
bought my friend. On her birthday.
When
someone is paid for sexual services, it’s pretty universally called
prostitution. But Ang is my friend. She’s not a prostitute. She’s
not an ugly word. She’s not just a face with a body. She doesn’t
deserve to be degraded or looked down on. She has hopes and dreams.
She has potential. She has value as a human being. She is loved.
She is worth respecting and honoring. She is so much more than that
convenient label.
She
is my friend. Friday was her birthday. And we were there to
celebrate with her because she was worth it.
Her
twenty-three years were worth celebrating. Because even if this was
her life now, this won’t be her life forever. She has three friends
who want her to know how much she is loved. She has three friends
who want her to feel empowered. She has three friends who want her
to understand what her heart is worth. She has three friends who
call her a friend, not a prostitute.
We
went back to the bar at 11, as promised, and she was there. With her
customer. We called her name.
“Happy
Birthday, Ang!” We put the lei over her head and brought out the
7-11 brownie and four spoons. We sang Happy Birthday to her, very
loudly, and very badly, as all Happy Birthdays should be sung. She
might have been surprised that we brought her those gifts, but I
don’t think she was surprised that we had come.
After
all, we were her friends.
Our
beautiful friend.