Christmas vacation was hard, for a few reasons.  it was good to have a chance to be in a place other than the 2nd most popular sex tourist destination in the world, but it was really hard to recognize the reality of my life here in Angeles.  in the airport in Bangkok, I took some deep breaths and realized that not every man in my vicinity was a sex tourist, and I was incredibly grateful. unfortunately, I also realized that I can now spot a sex tourist from across a room.  once we made it to Koh Chang, I realized that I can spot them from across a beach…

being with friends was really great, on one hand, but on the other it was the beginning of understanding that no matter how close a friend is, and no matter how articulate I am in describing the things I see and hear, no one will be able to really grasp what my life here is like.  the loneliness I feel here seems compounded by that reality - that I am having this experience by myself.  when I come back, there will be no way to fully share this with anyone.  and I will be different.  being with friends from Seattle for a week helped me to see that it will be a challenge for me to reintegrate into my community at home, for me to reintegrate myself with, well, my self…

I felt a lot of the stress and trauma of the last few months in the 10 days that I was on vacation…which was a blessing and a struggle.  not being “on” meant that I could let out things I’d been holding in, but knowing that I’d have to be “on” again soon made that really painful and scary.  getting ready to come back, I could feel my heart gearing up, putting on my armor again.  then while waiting in the Bangkok airport for my flight back to Clark, I overheard this group of guys comparing the price of drinks and women in Bangkok and Angeles.  honestly, I get angry just thinking about it.  they were seriously complaining about how expensive it is!  I cannot understand how they feel no shame, running into each other at the airport and comparing notes loud enough for me, the Filipina sitting across from me, and the Filipino family sitting next to them, to hear.  I was fuming, and I couldn’t sit still.  I realized then that the last two months have really gotten to me, because this was the first time I wanted to pick a fight with these guys.  before, overhearing a group like this, I would sit quietly, probably crying, feeling sick to my stomach.  but this time I wanted to get up and yell at them.  I wanted to shout and draw attention to them, to say “you’re talking about my friends!  you’re talking about people, not some product in a magazine. how dare you speak about people this way!”  but, since I knew I’d be on the plane with them, and waiting in line at immigration with them, and waiting for a taxi with them, I just got up and sat somewhere else until we could board.

when I got off the plane, my first trip between Bangkok and Clark that I didn’t cry at all, I felt this unfamiliar cynicism rising up inside of me.  this defeated voice whispering that this is just the way it is, that people exploit people all the time…I felt cold, and hard.

I was reading back through my journal of the past four months, since moving to the Philippines, and there is this constant theme: please Lord, don’t let my heart be hardened.  I don’t want to be a cold rock of a woman.  please keep my heart tender.  I don’t want to get used to this.  I don’t want to disconnect from my heart in order to be here.

so, I am fighting.  I am keeping my eyes open wide for the beauty that I know is here.  I am listening hard for the hope that is in these girls’ voices.  I am expecting love to make its presence known here, with me and through me, and for me.

tonight I go to do outreach in the bars.  I go to see the faces of the women being exploited there and to share with them my hope.

I will leave this unfamiliar cynicism outside.