Victims of their Own Choices . . .

Street outreach last night -- almost bizarre how similar it was in some ways to Seattle. Most of the women working the streets are Nigerian girls trafficked to Athens - some are pretty open about their bondage debt; many continue working even after they've paid off their trafficker & pimp, because they have no reason to return home and no other way of obtaining work.

I'll be honest, being out with them last night made me miss the girls in Seattle SO much! The three biggest differences between street outreach in Seattle and street outreach in Athens:

1) No pimps on the streets in Athens - the girls for the most part work out of hotels, and are monitored by "madams," which are basically the hotel managers, instead of pimps.
2) IT'S WAY HOTTER!! Seriously, even at 1 and 2 am, it's still over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. That's an estimation, but our team was definitely sweating in tank-tops in the middle of the night. Weird.
3) Nigerian cultural barrier -- even though the girls mostly spoke English, it was really difficult to have real conversations with them. Part of that might be because I've known many of the girls in Seattle for longer, but I think a lot of it was because I don't really even know how to carry on a conversation for more than five minutes with a Nigerian whose NOT working in prostitution. Hmm. That was a trick.

Exciting thing, though -- Nea Zoi (the organization I'm working with) just worked out a specific location with the police that they can kind of take ownership of -- like the corner we work at for New Horizons. So, instead of just walking around with a basket and some iced tea, tracking down all the girls in the neighborhood, they're modeling New Horizons and they're going to start letting the girls come to them!! We're just starting it off in the next two weeks, so it'll be interesting. I'm sure that it'll take a while for the girls to become familiar enough to start taking ownership of the place on their own . . . but hopefully, it will be fruitful.

Emma Skjonsby, an American woman from Seattle who founded the organization with another woman named Jennifer, has already taught me quite a lot. Her perspective is invaluable to me. Yesterday (I think - maybe two days ago) we were discussing the plight of the women, and she staunchly believes in their own responsibility in the choices they are making. "Even if they've been trafficked in from another country and are in severe danger," she acknowledged, "These women are not without choice. They could jump out a window - they could refuse and be tortured - I know that sounds cruel, and I'm not trying to be callous, but we must acknowledge that even the most desperate has on some level also taken part in choosing this lifestyle. No matter the circumstances I was under, I would refuse to take part in this act at all cost. And yes, their choices are a result of a darkened understanding of who they are and their intrinsic worth, their inherent rights . . . but still, we cannot see them only as victims."

I find her perspective challenging . . . and also freeing in some ways. And particularly moving because still, after 10 years, she is spending her life serving these women. We don't serve because they're victims - we serve because we believe they can and WILL choose a better life for themselves . . . and we will persevere in walking with them through that process.

Also, I've gotten to spend quite a bit of time this week working "in the office," focusing on the administrative side of an organization like this. Weirdly, I feel really energized by that . . . learning data entry strategies, discussing budget (mainly struggles), assessing the recent end of an employment mentorship program that five girls graduated from. Obviously, most of this has been mostly listening and observing . . . but I've learned a LOT. And I've remembered that even the Type A parts of myself can be sanctified for Kingdom glory (which has often, in times past, seemed doubtful).

And it makes me wonder about my future. Let's be honest . . . what DOESN'T make me wonder about my future . . .