It was lunchtime. Lots of cars driving by, area restaurants doing good business, neighbours greeting each other across the street, parents walking with children. A regular day in the neighbourhood.
But, as on every other regular day, there are other less pleasant parts of our streetscape. As I waited, I noticed three prostitutes working within 30 feet of where I was standing.
One girl stood across the street. Her shirt more open than closed, she positioned herself for maximum exposure, the hook more revealed than concealed by her bait. She occasionally glanced my way, but quickly turned back to look at the cars driving by.
After awhile, she started walking across the street toward me. She walked behind me and took up a new position just a few feet away.
She muttered something about business being rotten today. I wasn’t sure if that was an invitation to talk, but she seemed only slightly surprised when I turned and asked what she meant. She commented, “It’s usually busier at this time of the month.” When I asked why, she responded, “People usually get paid around now and they have a little more money on hand.”
I responded, “Well, be careful. It’s a dangerous business you’re in.”
Our discussion obviously confused some people as they walked by - a preacher and a prostitute, having a civil conversation on Sargent Avenue. There are some who would expect our discussion to be much more confrontational.
My outspoken and persistent condemnation of the effects of drugs and prostitution are interpreted by some as a rejection of the people involved. It may seem odd, but I don’t feel that way. My stand on social problems is clear, but I know people are more complex than their actions might indicate.
As the years go by, it gets easier to see both good and evil in almost every person I meet – including myself. I’m not as easily impressed or intimidated by either, because I know the other is there as well.
So I decided that talking to her was more important than avoiding the confused looks of passersby.
A cabbie drove by slowly, eyeing the girl – and then drove away quickly when he noticed me. She didn’t seem too upset, and continued talking. “Lots of those cabbies are bad,” she said. “They don’t like wearing protection and some of them get pretty rough.” And she offered numerous other frustrations with the hazards of her occupation. Then she paused, and looked more carefully at me.
“Are you a cop?” she asked cautiously. I responded, “No. I’m just a preacher.”
Her reaction was swift. “Holy… I’m sorry.” And she quickly fastened a few of the buttons on her shirt.
She mentioned – without my comment – that she knew she was doing something wrong. “I know it’s disgusting, but I still want to do it. When I’m getting more money, I don’t think about it as much, but when business is slow or I don’t get lots of money, I usually feel even worse about myself.”
She continued. “And what makes me feel worst is the way some of the young kids look at me. I imagine what they’re thinking, and I really don’t like it.”
There was no need to echo her judgment. She didn’t need anyone to explain the “wrongness” of what she was doing. So I decided to ask her if and how she would ever decide when to stop exposing herself to the risk and self-condemnation inherent in her trade.
At seventeen, she felt she could continue for awhile, “But not too much longer.”
She mentioned that she was pregnant. For awhile, we both thought out loud about her child, as well as options for her own future. I told her a bit about my own life. And she asked about our church, and mentioned she might like to come to a church service sometime. She didn’t ask if it was okay for “someone like her” to visit our church. I took that as a compliment.
I went back to work. I think she did too.
I haven’t changed my opinion of what she does for a living. It’s not hard assessing it as wrong. It’s obviously physically and mentally unhealthy, damaging to herself and the community. Whether by encouragement or enforcement, she needs to get to a safer place as soon as possible. Right now and later, whether here or there, she’ll be in our prayers as well.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca