Protective Walls

This week I was visiting women who are still working in situations of exploitation.  For over 3 years I have been visiting women in their work places.  I have seen a lot of things over my hundreds of visits.  Due to my exposure to direct exploitation, it takes a lot to rattle me when I visit.  

This week I was shaken to my core.  My two friends and I were visiting a shop and talking with a women we had known for a few months. I have never met any of the women in the shop, but my coworker did.  She was introducing me to the women that we have existing relationship with, Miss Wang.  After talking with Miss Wang, I introduce myself to her coworkers.  After giving my standard introduction* I asked for their names.  Without pausing, the 2 new women introduced themselves by a number.  [As a way to protect their privacy and make things fair in the brothels, the women are assigned numbers.  The numbers rotate and the customer is served by the next person up on the rotation.  When talking in front of a client the women will address each other by their number, not their names, as a form of privacy and anonymity.]  I met #16 and #8.  No names, not even a made up nickname to pacify us.  

It broke my heart how in the month the new employees had been working there had adapted to being referred to as a number.  The thick walls they have put up as means of survival have penetrated their very identity.  They have accepted the reality that they can be referred to a number and seen only as a thing to be used.  During the course of our 45 minute visit, I heard the women refer to each other as a number the entire time.  I was on an emotional roller-coaster as I went from being on the verge of tears that these women are looked upon so poorly, to sad for the fact that their personal histories have made this seem acceptable, to admiration for the fact that these women have figured out a way to cope with circumstances that I would never survive, to prayer as I asked the One who can shatter the walls to do His work.

I don’t think I will ever get used to starting injustice and exploitation directly in the face. I am not sure what I can do personally that will chip away at the protective walls these beautiful women have put up.  I know that I have the most powerful weapon, asking our Loving Father to meet them where they are and woo them to Himself.  However I can help in that process, I am thankful I am in a position to do so.  Until that day, I am going to do my best to build trust and learn these beautiful women’s real names. 

*(Hi I’m Jennifer.  Yes, I’m American.  Yes, I am tall and this is my natural hair color.  If you want to study English I can teach you free lessons if you agree to teach me free Chinese lessons.) 

Strength in Numbers

           I have been reflecting recently on the power of diversity found in community.  We were designed to be in relationship, to learn from others.  There is such strength found when different people are intentional about bringing their best to the table. Everyone was created with different skill sets and abilities.  I know that I have many wonderful attributes to contribute to any group of people, but my skills alone are not sufficient.  I need other people to bring their best so that I can more fully experience all the attributes of our Father. 

Gifts mixes are designed to work together.  On a recent trip to Shanghai, I became sick and my friend Emily and I ended up needing to reschedule our flight.  Emily is one the most compassionate and attentive people I have the pleasure of knowing.  I could not have had a better person to help take care of me when I was feeling ill.  As Emily was helping us reschedule our flight and making sure I had water and a comfortable place to sit, I suddenly remembered that Emily had checked baggage and her bag was about to leave for Shanghai without her.  [Honestly, it seemed like that was the only coherent thought I had during the entire night]. Emily was able to inform the fight staff in enough time to keep her bag from traveling across the country without her.  When we finally on the way to Shanghai and immune systems were back in full swing, Emily and I started laughing about how my attention to detail was crucial in that situation.  That skill is so ingrained in me that it came out even while I was not operating at my best.  Attention to detail, however, is no comfort.  I needed Emily’s compassion just as much as she needed her bag. 

While this is a small example, it reminded me of the importance of relationship and appreciating differences.  What do I miss by not asking for help, allowing others to speak into my life.  What aspects of our Father’s character do I not see because I am focused on myself and what I can do well?  How could our communities, fellowships, families change if we actively celebrated our diversity?