I have been extra surrounded lately by strong women doing
amazing work in the fight against human trafficking. We have had the
conversations I have so desperately missed: “What is being done? How does trafficking look among different (European) cultures? Who are the victims/perpetrators? What is the
next step?” and the hardest for me, “How do you not hate the men involved?”
Through the work that I have done and been exposed to, I
have had encounters with Johns, a
term for men who solicit (pay for) prostitution. One experience, in particular,
just drove me over the edge. This man sat across the table from three former
prostitutes, women that I had been working with for months, and me, and
listened to their stories. They told about how they had come to be prostitutes,
what the life of abuse has done to them, and the difficulties they have been
through trying to leave that life behind. One woman asked, “How can you do this
and still love your wife?” “Oh, I still
love my wife! Having sex with a prostitute doesn’t require any feelings. I
don’t have to love her so it’s not like I love my wife any less.” The man
left completely unapologetic to the crimes he had been committed of; but not
before shaking my hand and thanking me for the work I am doing. “These women
really need the help,” he said. I have never wanted to hit someone like I did
at that moment.
As if I didn’t already have a hard time loving these men, it now seemed impossible as I got in my car and drove home that day.
The idea that Jesus died on the cross for everyone is not an
easy thing to grasp and accept. These men do not deserve that kind of grace.
They do not deserve to have a second chance.
But then again, neither do I.
A few days ago, I listened to a song I have heard a hundred
times before, but this time, something struck me.
The first verse contains these lines:
Cigarettes are
burning down to my fingers
In my motel, where
the smell still lingers
From the night
before...
With a ten-dollar whore who didn't even know my name
The idea that a man becomes a John in hopes of seeking
comfort and approval breaks my heart. It does not change the situation; however,
knowing that is the best way he knows to feel those things is saddening. One way or another, these men need help just as much as the women do. (By
the way, I am only speaking about Johns right now. Pimps are another story.) This man in particular told my women story after story of the pain he feels, which drives him towards these acts, "We have pains, too. It's not just you women, the prostitutes, who are hurting." Whether these stories are true, or just an emotion-inducing cover up, I do not
know, but I have heard them plenty of times. Either way, I cannot be the one to
judge.
Despite my feelings of hatred (judgmental, I know), it hurts
to see human suffering.
Grace is a hard thing to give, but so easy to receive.
Jackie Green "Write a Letter Home"
