X

The saddest irony about child abuse is the fact that kids think it's their fault.

Her name actually sounds like another letter in our alphabet, but I'm going to call her 'X' because of how she sees herself. 

X says she is 20.  She was brought to us 3 weeks ago by another student.  She had been working in bars but quit.  She was obviously insecure and unhappy, usually keeping her head lowered, resisting eye contact and smiling only when smiled at.  She came for about 8 days, then quit.  Yesterday she came back, saying shyly that she needed to send 2000 baht ($59) to her mom and daughter ASAP.  She said she had gone back and applied at some bars.  She repeated what we've heard many times from other bar girls.  "It's ok if I don't like it, as long as my family is happy."  

We're careful of course to not simply believe stories like this, but in this case I decided to take advantage of the request a bit to test X's sincerity.  I told her that since she had worked about 2 weeks and had a daughter, she was entitled to a stipend of 4000 baht/month.  It's paid semi-monthly, but new students must wait for a full month.  I told her that she had "earned" about 1500 baht so far, and we could advance the remaining 500, with the conditions that she re-join and start at The Well the next day, and that we have a worker go with her to send the money.  She turned it down, so I figured that was that--she probably just needed the money for something else, even drugs.

Today she came back.  I sat down with her and asked how she was feeling.  She didn't say much, just that she felt the same, and she was still stressed about the 2000 baht.  She said her mom was waiting on it.

I said nothing for a while, praying.  She kept her face down, silent.  I felt prompted to change the subject, that ultimately this wasn't about money.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember--did you finish 9th grade?"  

"No, I didn't."

"Seventh?"

"Yes."

Eighth?

"Yes."

"What happened in 9th?"

"I had a problem with my older sister." 

"It must have been a big problem to make you quit school."

"It was with her and her boyfriend."

There it was.  

"I think I know what happened, but I don't want to think."

"What do you think?"

"He did something to you."

"Yes."

"What about your mom and dad?"

"I was separated from my parents when I was little.  My dad was an alcoholic and womanizer.  Mom and dad fought all the time, hit each other, almost every day.  He was a salesman, and when he'd make some money, he'd go to the pub and spend it on women.  He never had any left for us."

"Who raised you?"

"My aunt."

"Did she love you?"

"Mmm, not really.  She had seven kids of her own."

"So you were a burden.  You've always been a burden."

"Yes."

I explained that when kids are discarded or abused as kids, their nature is to think it's their fault.  "So all this time you have felt like you're worth nothing, you have no meaning, no use.  And what happened in 9th grade proved that to you."

"Yes."

This is why I hate prostitution so much.  It's not about women who just want money so badly that they'll sell themselves for it.  It's that they think that a little money is all they're worth.  And the man who buys a prostitute is simply agreeing.  

I talked with her a long time about the fact that I loved her, what that meant and why.  Not because I'm a good person, but because God made her loveable, and that by knowing God I had learned to see people that way.  I told her that I knew she had contemplated suicide, and she acknowledged that she had seriously considered it.  We talked about her walls, her obvious guardedness, her fear of being disappointed, that what we were offering might be just a trick, that she'd never had anyone care for her for no reason.  I said I understood.  Life has never given her anything else until now, but how was she to know that?  

My time ran out--I had to go pick up the kids at school, so I restated our offer and asked another student to spend more time with her, praying with her before I left that God would speak to her heart and show her His love for real.  Later on I gave her a call.

"How are you feeling?"

"I still think I need to work at bars, I need to help myself."

I felt a burst of confidence.

"X, let me tell you something.  I don't see you as a charity case.  This is about respect.  I earned a master's degree because people gave me the opportunity.  I didn't do it alone.  No one can.  All I'm asking is the opportunity to give you an opportunity."

She continued to resist, so I decided to take a risk.  One of the few things that made X brighten a bit when we first met was when she said she really like art.  The day before I had tried to get her to do a painting for me, but she refused.  "I'm really not good," she had claimed. 

"Everything I see about you tells me that you are very bright, and I'm sure are good at many things.  So I'm going to make a proposal."

She listened.

"I have friends that I know would buy a painting from someone like you.  So here's what I'm going to ask.  I want you to come tomorrow at 9am and do a painting for me.  I promise I'll be honest.  If it's not good, then I'll tell you and and drop the subject.  I'll have Judy help decide.  But if it is good, I will buy it from you tomorrow.  Will you do that?"

She agreed.  I pray she will follow through, and if she does, I do believe it will be a special painting that some of you might like to have.  I'll post it right away, and all reasonable offers will be considered.  Then I'll need to find a better pseudonym for her...