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.) 

Overwhelemed

I am once again overwhelmed by all the suffering in the world.  The longer I work to combat injustice, inequality and systemic problems the more darkness I discover.  The more I hear individual stories, the larger and more grandiose the problem becomes.  If a small business can exploit over 200 people, how many people are being exploited by multi-national corporations? It seems like every time I check the news I am inundated with stories of fresh horror I never knew existed.  The weight of the pain human beings can inflict upon each other is staggering.  Sin is literally killing us.

When I think about the scope of injustice, it threatens to consume me.  I am one person, how can I make a difference?  Will my effort have an impact when I have worked so hard and seen little visible change in an unjust system?  What about the people who have no one fighting for them?  Selah!

BUT…………………………. I serve the Creator who did not intend for the world to be so unjust.  He hates the evil we inflict upon one another and sent His son to overcome sin and death.  When he looks at the unaccompanied minor or pregnant woman fleeing their war-torn country, His heart shatters.  His heart breaks more than mine when He hears stories of abuse and exploitation.  Thought the problem is overwhelming, He is just and will correct everything in the end.  Also, the moment my heart ceases to break when I hear stories of pain means that I am bitter and no longer passionate about my work.  Even in the painful reality of the human condition, I can celebrate the ultimate victory of good over evil, life of death, justice over selfishness.

Choice

Choice....six letters that combine to make such a powerful word.  More and more I am coming to realize just how important choice is to an individual, how vital it is to helping a person thrive and live with dignity.

Choice is something that I take for granted almost every day.  What am I going to choose for breakfast?  When do I have time in my schedule to meet up with three different people this week?  Honestly, sometimes I feel overwhelmed by all the choices I have to make navigating life in a city of 23 million people.  I fail to remember that choice is a blessing, a true blessing.

I know of some women working in situations of exploitation who do not have access to a kitchen.  Their boss brings them their food for each meal and they have no input in terms of the menu items.  These women also have no control of when they will be working.  Their schedule can change on a whim as the boss decides.

I made a deliberate choice to move across the world to work and serve.  Economic necessity forced these women to leave their hometown and seek any possible employment to keep their family financially afloat.  These brave women often leave behind their small children in hopes of seeking a better life.  Once they arrive to the big city they are tricked into working jobs they never expected.  Any form of choice or decision making is quickly taken away.

It often seems counter intuitive that women who are offered alternative employment and a better life do not immediately jump at the opportunity.  When you are not allowed to make basic choices through the day, it is a gigantic step to choose to leave your current situation and make a drastic life change.  It takes time for a woman to build up the self-confidence to start making decisions about their own lives.  This is a long process that takes relationships with stable influences.  More importantly, it takes hours of intercession asking Him to intervene in these women's lives and change their hearts as only He can.  I am so thankful that I have been blessed with the opportunity to be His salt and light to these amazingly resilient women.  I am thankful that I can be part of their healing journey.  I am thankful that how I choose to spend my time ultimately helps another woman make choices for herself.

Les Miserables and The Power of Dignity

Three days ago I was finally able to watch Les Miserables in the theater.  I was looking forward to the cultural experience I would gain from watching the movie but I was unprepared for the core value that was struck during the viewing.  Watching the movie I was enraged that human beings could be treated so poorly, with no forgiveness or chance for redemption offered by the community or political system.  It made my blood boil to watch Fantine be shunned by her community.  My blood pressure spiked when people refused to even be in the same room with a woman who could possibly have a "soiled" reputation.  

The one word that Father has kept burning on my heart since watching the movie is DIGNITY.  Les Mis highlighted the indignity of treating people only as flesh and bones, of refusing to forget the past, of refusing to acknowledge people can change and overcome their mistakes.  I was heartbroken when Fantine's first "customer" used her and then threw money in her face.  After using her this man could no longer acknowledge her humanity, and thus felt she no longer needed basic respect or manners.
  

This week I've been thinking about the inherent dignity that comes with calling people by their name.  Javert commonly called Jean Valjean 24601, his prison number, as opposed to his name.  By calling Valjean a number Javert clearly stated the power differential between himself, the prison guard, and the prisoner.  Javert was able to use and abuse prisoners when calling them by their prison number, by distancing himself from their  humanity.  I loved Jean Valjean's journey to maturity in the movie because he intentionally calls the characters he encounters by their name as often as possible.

I feel that through this movie Dad has revealed a simple yet profound lesson to me.  Treating people with dignity by calling them by their name is the most powerful thing that I can do because dignity can be conveyed in a short time frame.  I might not have the time or ability to truly pour into a person's life, but I can show them dignity and His love by treating them with kindness, remembering their name, and loving on them as best as I can under the circumstances.