We happened upon it and there she was. Encased in glass, she was trapped. Her head was down and her shoulders slumped, defeated. I don't know what I was expecting, a smile? A come and get me look? That came after her, right beside her was another and she was beckoning. But I was still thinking of the first. The prostitute was sitting on a chair in the red light district of Amsterdam. Jordan looked away, trying to show her respect by being the only man in that street not ogling.
I looked at her face and I broke. I wanted to rush at the glass prison with a battering ram screaming like Brave Heart to free her, is not this fight just as heroic?
How broken do you have to be to sit in glass with nothing covering and sell yourself? How many lies does a little girl believe until she becomes defeated as a woman?
He was carrying a briefcase and was balding. Walking with a purpose past the windowed shops he became sidetracked by a display and stopped. Going halfway into the door he started to turn around when suddenly a young man rushed towards him from up the street shouting "Don't be shy! Come on in sir!"
Satan beckoning men into hell with open arms. Here you will experience death eternal, don't be shy!
We walked on trying to find the way out, but wanting to stay and be aware of what we are up against as two people wanting to fight for justice. We passed girl after girl, all with plastic smiles. Jordan looking ahead, myself staring into their eyes, willing them to see my heart and the worth they have. We passed crowds and crowds of men, some looking at the girls in the windows, some walking into buildings. I have never seen so many groups of men or single men in all my travels as I did in Amsterdam.
How broken do you have to be to be a man who doesn't protect women and children but exploits and abuses them? Are you hearing me men? This starts with pornography and ends with destroying lives. STOP staring at your computers and magazines in the dark and be a man. Fight for the oppressed. I beg you.
When finally we excited the Red Light District, on the next street was a beautiful cathedral next to a canal. The church had it's back on the Prostitutes. Men flocked past us and I stumbled to the river. Hanging over the side and clinging to my husband. I have never felt more helpless. More broken.
A boat floated past us with a band playing a beautiful song. The whole scene was gorgeous and surreal and I had just walked through hell. "God, God, God..." I repeated. "Jesus, oh Jesus."
Even now that's all that I can pray when I remember. Her face haunts me. My lack of action to save her haunts me more.
So what am I going to do about it? What can we do children of God?
