Sunday we did a variety of things, mostly introductory stuff to familiarize with the area and ease into the craziness of the night scene. We prayer walked around one of Bangkok’s red light districts during the day, later during the setup, and again at night. It was raining pretty hard, so most of the vendors were shutting down around 1 am and the streets were relatively void of customers. But even on a lesser scale than normal, the perversion and depravity were still going strong.
I was relatively prepared for the scene. Since I want to base my career around social justice and fighting human trafficking and other things of the like, I’ve seen plenty of documentaries and photos and read lots of the literature about red light districts. I knew it would be obscene. I knew I would see bare bodies, drugs, alcohol, children… I knew the facts.
What the documentaries, photos, and books can’t capture, though, is the eyes. We saw lots and lots of girls, of course. Parading outside the bars, sitting outside the bars, dancing inside the bars, dancing on stages and tables. Each one seemingly less clothed than the last. But instead of watching their near-naked bodies spin and bend in impossible ways, I was struck by the emptiness and numbness in their eyes.
I understand, to a degree. If that were me on the streets or on the stages I would retreat into myself too. Shut down. Not think about where I am or what I’m doing. The men want the embodiment of exotic sex, not intimacy. My feelings, emotions, and thoughts would be far from that stage. Perhaps counting the money I’ll be making to go buy my next meal, or thinking of my children, or a memory from my childhood. Anything to not be truly engaged in the present. I would leave myself alone on that table and flee to a place far better.
I understood the numbness. I understood the emptiness. But as I glanced into one of the bars to pray for the girls on stage, for the briefest of moments I made eye contact with one of them, and offered her a genuine smile. For just a second, she came back to life. Her eyes flashed with a bit of light, and a half smile – a real one, not just a seductive ploy – followed. Just as quickly, the light and smile were gone. She was back in character again – mentally far away, physically a dancer. But for that briefest of moments that we were together, she was a real girl again.
Did I change her life with a smile? Not in the least. It would make a great story to come home and tell all of you. “When I was in Thailand, I saved a girl with a smile!” But that’s not quite how it works. In her mind, if she remembers me at all, I’ve forgotten her. She has no idea that her face will remain with me forever, nor does she know that I have been and will continue to pray for her. What she does know, however, is that at least one person in this world sees her as a real human. Looked for her, into her eyes, instead of leering at her bare body.
This girl has thoughts, dreams, hopes, and ideas, just as I do. She and I are far less different that I would like to think. I am who I am by the grace of God, not because I’m so much better than her. Without His grace and mercy, I could easily end up in any of a huge mess of situations. But He blessed me. And He can just as easily choose to bless her too.
This was the tiniest of seeds. She’ll be back on that stage tonight. Tomorrow. Next week. And probably for a long, long time. She was young, beautiful. But for a second, she was reminded that she was real. Perhaps she will remember, and not lose herself completely. Maybe she’ll seek out a different life someday, if more people remind her that she has worth. Perhaps she will forget, and retreat forever. Only God knows. But for now, she’s still in there somewhere. Though a dancer, selling herself night after night, inside, she’s no different that I.
She’s still a real girl.
