Reading Ezekiel 16 and 23 in the Red Light District

A variation of the following was published in Global perspectives on the Old Testament (2014), edited by Mark Roncace.

Calling someone a prostitute is generally considered a great insult. In Ezekiel 16 and 23, however, Jerusalem is called more than a whore: she is considered to be worse than a prostitute as she scorns payments and bribes her lovers to come to her. Furthermore, the descriptions of her prostituting would make many readers blush. The prostitution of Jerusalem is clearly shown in the text to be a metaphor for Jerusalem’s chasing after other gods, but that hardly abates the prostitution motif. The question asked here is whether a fuller understanding of prostitution as a social phenomenon affects how the reader understands these texts.

When I moved to the Red Light District in Amsterdam a number of years ago, I was immediately confronted with women behind the windows who were selling sex. Wanting to know and understand these new neighbors of mine, I read studies on prostitution, read prostitutes’ own stories, and even had short conversations with the women as I helped bring coffee with the Salvation Army. I also tried to see my neighbors: from the skinny young blond model type to the Eastern European with limited Dutch knowledge to the grandmotherly types who seemed like they’d be more at home entertaining in the kitchen. It soon became clear to me that prostitution is complicated, just like the text of Ezekiel.

Based on its use in Ezekiel 16 and 23 it would appear that to act as a prostitute is unambiguously wrong and deserving of punishment, even death (cf. also Deuteronomy 22:21). However, the stories of prostitutes named in the Bible paint a different picture: Tamar was declared righteous (Genesis 38), Rahab was the only one rescued from Jericho (Joshua 6), and Gomer was bought back as Hosea’s wife (Hosea 2:5). Prostitution in the Bible, then, like the phenomenon of prostitution in society, is not simply seen as all bad.

Those working behind the windows in Amsterdam perceive their prostituting themselves in various ways: a necessary evil, an interesting and even enjoyable job, or one’s worst nightmare come true. For some, prostitution is seen as the only option (whether by force or general circumstances) and for others, prostitution is hardly their only option but the one they still choose because of the opportunities it presents. The description of Jerusalem and Samaria in Ezekiel 16 and 23 falls into this latter category, what is sometimes referred to as the “happy hooker.” In such an understanding of prostitution, the person is so infatuated with sex that prostitution would be considered the “ideal” and he/she could not imagine doing or wanting anything else. Jerusalem fits this category through her longing after foreign men, bribing them to come to her. Yet, describing Jerusalem as happy in her prostitution is going too far: she is constantly thirsting for more and despises the men after she has been defiled by them. The judgment depicted in the text—that of being stripped bare and stoned—further clarifies that, irrelevant of any claims made about Jerusalem’s willful intention in prostituting herself, she experiences too many “bad tricks” for her to be described as a happy hooker.

The other extreme is to see the prostitute as being inherently a victim—no one could willingly choose to have one’s body used by so many different men. Human trafficking, pimps, and loverboys have most likely forced and sometimes brainwashed the women into selling their bodies. Abuse, lack of self-worth, political unrest, addictions, and/or a love of money push women into prostitution. Seen in this way, Jerusalem and Samaria would be understood as having been brainwashed by these other gods: these are loverboys who had promised her their love, but ultimately just abused her and pushed her into turning to even more gods. This understanding clearly shows Jerusalem’s need to be rescued by God; yet, it seems difficult not to hold Jerusalem responsible, since her blatant guilt is one of the main points of these chapters.

Very few prostitutes fall into either extreme: For many, prostitution is seen as a means to an end. While few of them would consider prostitution an ideal job, they have made some choice in either becoming or staying prostitutes, even if leaving is exceptionally difficult. Few would argue that prostitution is healthy or good for them; it is harmful for their body, it messes with one’s emotions, and it is often demeaning. Yet, few are rushing to leave the life: the money is too good, the other options are lousy, and this is the life they know. It is in this context—the complicated reality of prostitution—that one can better understand Ezekiel 16 and 23. As despicable as the description of her actions is, Jerusalem cannot be simply despised and dismissed as a deviant woman. Rather, she is a complex character in a messy and complicated world, much like each of us and much like the women in the Red Light District. To some degree, Jerusalem was lured into prostituting herself by the other gods, unaware of the dire consequences, and she became a victim of her own bad choices. The text depicting her story is intended to shock the reader; the shock is even greater when we realize that we are being asked to identify ourselves as the prostitute in the story, as people who also whore after other gods. This identification allows us to turn away from condemnation and toward hope for restoration for both Jerusalem and ourselves. Jerusalem and Samaria have been promised that their fortunes will be restored in order that they, and those who identify with them, might remember and be ashamed.

In the years that I have lived in the Red Light District, one specific topic of conversation stands out. Visiting the women with a cup of coffee often leads to simple conversations about the weather, business being bad, children, and house pets—fascinating conversations, but it is not always easy to sense that the regular visits serve any kind of pastoral function. Yet, when a person decides to leave the work, then no matter how short or mundane the conversations previously were, there is no holding back in sharing this good news. There is a great joy in finally leaving—not only having survived the physical and emotional dangers of the work, but also anticipating the start of a new and different life. It is that joy and wonder that is missing from these chapters in Ezekiel; that part of the restoration comes only later in the biblical narrative.

Another view of the red light district

Having lived in the Red Light District for a number of years, I thought I'd pass on this blog which talks about what it's like to work in the Red Light District: Behind the Red Light District.

As a disclaimer, the woman writing it is rather frustrated with some of the propaganda related to cleaning up the Red Light District. Although I disagree with her often enough, I do think she has a lot of valid points and thus deserves to be heard. I especially agree that the whole 1012 project has not resulted in better businesses in the neighbourhood, although I would argue that the fashion/design place at Oudezijds Voorburgwal 93 was actually doing quite well (or at least it was when I lived next door).

Advice on talking to strange men in the Red Light District

Last night while I was walking home around dinner time, some man on a bike stopped and started talking to me. I was tired and hungry, and my first thought was 'Really? Do we really have to have this conversation now?' Because even if it's been awhile since I've been randomly stopped on the street by a strange man, the conversations tend to proceed in a similar way.

The following is a rough idea of yesterday's conversation.
him: Hi. How are you?
me: Fine.
Can I ask you a question?
Sure.
What's your name, by the way?
Brenda
oh, let me introduce myself: I'm David. What was your name again?
Brenda. 
I'm from Amsterdam. Where are you from?
Amsterdam.
I've been here for six years. How about you?
seven years.
I'm from Ghana, by the way.
I'm from Canada.
oh, but you speak very good Dutch.
Thanks. I live with Dutch people. And I married a Dutch man.
And you're still with him?
Yes.
Okay. bye.

I don't really understand these conversations. And yesterday's conversation even less. I was more unfriendly than usual (sometimes I do smile at others - simply because I like seeing people smile back), and my clothing (blue jeans, old coat, glasses, sport shoes) indicated fairly clearly that I was not interested in attracting any male attention.

What I do know about these conversations is that the sooner I can mention I am happily married, the sooner the conversation will be over. I guess I could also just say at the beginning that I'm not interested, which I did sometimes do, but that seems less gracious. Besides, I kind of like the challenge of showing that one can be friendly without wanting something out of it.

Before I was married, the conversations could get a bit long, probably because the men didn't know how to respond to my offer to come in and have coffee. They had obviously shown interest in me and seemed like they wanted to know me better. Yet, they weren't expecting that kind of hospitality, and surely not having to come have coffee with me in the common room (shared by the 50 or so people I live with). So, the conversation would drag on while the poor man tried to understand what kind of hospitality I was actually offering and then try to come up with a reason why he suddenly had to leave....

Neighbours keeping an eye on me

The other evening when I left the house rather late, one of the neighbours chided me that I shouldn't be gone long. Not so long before that, one of the neighbours saw me coming back early Sunday evening and wondered where I'd been. I hadn't been out with another man, had I? I laughed and said I was actually in church. And just the other day, there was a group of people forming in front of my house around a small child, concerned about where his mother was (his father came walking down the street as I arrived).

I'm not entirely sure if I like nosy neighbours, but at the same time, I've appreciated this social control from my neighbours. I like people who get involved when things seem to be wrong. I like having people who can tease me or make jokes about whether I'm behaving as we think I should. It shows an interest in me and an appreciation of our being neighbours. And I think this awareness of each other and friendly joking is part of what I'd ideally see neighbours as being.

The surprising part of the story is, of course, my neighbourhood. I have odd neighbours. The question about my being out late was from one of the homeless guys who hangs out beside my house. The question about being out with a guy was from the prostitute a few doors down. The group around the small child were young tourists. All of these are from groups that most of us expect to be very much not concerned about those who live here. Yet, somehow these groups of people - people who don't even live here and who frustrate or annoy many residents - have been the ones teaching me what it means to be a good neighbour.

Human trafficking, prostitution, and me (3)

There are a number of reasons that I am uncomfortable with equating prostitution with human trafficking

It seems to play with the numbers and understanding of "unwilling" and "being forced" so that anyone doing sex work is seen as a victim. Any woman who might argue that she is okay with what she does, even might enjoy certain aspects of it, and/or is willing to do this out of love/care for another is thus considered to be lying or too traumatized/indoctrined. We, those striving against human trafficking, know better than she does. And her voice and self is irrelevant except in as far as she can receive (and accept) help. I personally find this view simplistic of all the complicated aspects of prostitution. More so, it does not seem to value those in prostitution as being fully persons: imago Dei. 
 
Linking human trafficking with prostitution also feels like an argument used by well meaning Christians to convince non-Christians, who won't necessarily see prostitution as being against God's good order, to see prostitution as an evil - and thus to join us in fighting against it. I very much believe prostitution is not part of God's ideal, but then shouldn't we be fighting to make things better for the women now here instead of women we imagine are suffering?

Those who have met and talked to the women and who have listened at least some of their stories know that things are not simple. Human trafficking certainly happens, but it is often a strange mixture of bad choices, lack of a future, concern/care/love for others, cohersion and violence, poor regulations, and (country/land) corruption. Sin and evil play a significant role.

I have spent two years meeting bi-weekly with various prostitutes. None has ever told me she was being trafficked or pimped out, although a few have mentioned that they experienced it in the past. At the same time, I have lost count of how many have told me that have been mistreated by clients or those whom they rent their windows from. They feel unsafe - the rent they pay and the alarm bell are no guarantee for help when needed. And so, they are open to alternative means of more effective protection: in other words, a pimp might not be worse that what they know experience.

It seems easy to talk about how we want to stop human trafficking - after all, who wouldn't support that? Yet, it is much more difficult to talk about how we, as Christians, love the women as they now are and as they now experience the world, amidst all the difficulties of now. Amidst the pain of not making ends meet. Amidst not understanding all of the strange regulations (that are only found in Dutch) - and the poor treatment they receive when they try to understand things better, whether it be on account of language, nationality or profession. Amidst not having anyone to tell their story to of how a client tried to force them to have sex without a condom. No one to reinterpret their story to say that that was rape, even if the police won't file a report since "it's your job." Amidst the pain of feeling like they have so little choice - where else can they find somewhere else to make enough money to pay the rent and still send some home? And then, on top of that, not being seen or heard by those who claim to come help?

Perhaps there is also the difficulty of a pimp or trafficking in the midst of all those other pains and difficulties. However, until many of those other pains and worries - from the necessity of making enough to make ends meet and stay safe in the midst of this crazy world to simply being seen and appreciated as a worthwhile person - until these things are addressed, human trafficking is just a strange political word that has little more effect on these women's day-to-day reality than a cup of coffee brought by some well-meaning worker.

A death gone relatively unnoticed

If a woman working as a prostitute tragically dies, it is likely related to the work that she does for a number of reasons. Perhaps it is a question of money - prostitutites are expected to make a lot and have a lot of cash available. Perhaps it is a crazy who finds it easier to harm those who are looked down in society and/or whom he considers to be less human. Perhaps it is a problem of relationship, whether that be a difficulty with a partner (something that overcomes many women whatever their work or situation) or an unhealthy relationship related to the work (e.g., pimp or traffickers). Sometimes the tragedy is continued in the lack of acknowledgement of her death, as if the media has judged that people are not interested in hearing about her - unless it makes a sensational story (cf. the death from a number of years ago).

Through a number of informal sources, I have heard that a woman from Bulgaria working in prostitution, passed away in a fire about 2 weeks ago. I had heard about it first through a blog from Van der Beer, a boyfriend of a prostitute: Brand! This was then later confirmed by someone doing outreach/rescue work for prostituties: Frits Rouvoet. Others from the Salvation Army vrouwenpastoraat had also heard about her death, including that she had died from smoke inhalation.

The woman who passed away was relatively young and from Bulgaria. Statistically speaking, both her age and, more so, her nationality are stronger indicators that she may have been a victim of human trafficking. Her tragic death also raises questions about how freely she had been here working. Rouvoet has assumed the worst; whereas Van der Beer argues that his girlfriend knows that she was there freely. I don't know; I assume I didn't know her. And even if I met her via the Salvation Army vrouwenpastoraat, it is hard to learn all the factors that led her to working behind the window. I expect the only thing we can say with certainty is that she had come to the Netherlands in the hope of a better life, and that hope has died with her.

It makes me sad that her life has ended so soon, and that her death has generally been ignored. On the one hand, I am thankful that her work has not been used to make a sensation from her death. However, it also seems that she, through a lack of acknowledgement, has been treated as less worthy of the respect that I believe we ought to give all persons, irrelevant of nationality or work.

update: Shortly after publishing this, the police provided a report about her death on 25 September, indicating that she was the victim of a crime for whom they have arrested someone. The article (in Dutch): http://www.politie.nl/nieuws/2013/oktober/10/05-overleden-vrouw-bij-brand-door-misdrijf-om-het-leven-gebracht-verdachte-aangehouden.html 

Human Trafficking, the Red Light District, Christians and me

Lately, there's been a lot of discussion in the Netherlands about human trafficking as being intimately connected with prostitution, including and especially in places like the Red Light District. For example, the political party I support, ChristenUnie, just participated in hosting a joint conference called, Een andere kijk op Prostitutie, (an other way of looking at prostitution).

I have to admit that I'm not entirely sure of what to make of the discussion, which even I find to be a strange reaction. I am, after all, against human trafficking. What Christian, or non-Christian for that matter, isn't against human trafficking?!? I have read numerous stories and news articles verifying both how real and how horrible trafficking is for those who are victims. I also believe that there are women in the Red Light District who have been pressured against their will to prostitute themselves, which I find deeply troubling, even more so as these are my physical neighbours. Furthermore, I'm against prostitution. As a Christian, I don't believe that prostitution is part of God's good intentions for sex, relationships, or how human beings ought to be treated.

So why is it that I feel so uncomfortable with the discussions about human trafficking and its link to prostitution?

Because it feels a bit like we're focusing on the wrong thing. It's not that human trafficking isn't horrible and evil, it's just there's so much more pain, evil, sadness, messiness and wrong involved in prostitution that has little to do with human trafficking. We have been, through talking about trafficking and not prostitution, avoiding asking difficult questions and having difficult conversations.

The best analogy I can think of is how Pope Francis has been in the news about how he isn't so hard-nosed about abortion or homosexuality. It's not that he isn't against abortion, it's just that in a world where there is so much messiness and sin, the message of abortion isn't what the world needs to hear. And when I think of those working in prostitution, I wonder if the focus on human trafficking hasn't been distracting us from the real message, that of proclaiming love and grace and human worth.

Eating with Prostitutes

Jesus once ate with prostitutes, and so in reaching out to my neighbourhood, it also seems appropriate that I would eat with prostitutes. There are enough organisations reaching out to the women here, and I have been invited to join the women's dinner held by the Salvation Army. Yet, I have chosen not to go, not because I would find it difficult to eat with prostitutes, but simply because I find it difficult to relate to others in a situation where it's so obvious that I'm the one giving help and they are the ones needing it. I tend to picture Jesus' eating with prostitutes to be his inviting them to join his table at home, a guest as welcome as any other.

But what if that really would happen? What if a prostitute really joined us for dinner? A guest comes to the table whose background we do not know - something that happens often enough at the dinner table in the community. And as there is time before the food is ready and numerous new people, everyone is invited to introduce themselves. And she says she is a prostitute, in bad English, but clear enough that at least a few people understand. And what happens then? Do you stop the introductions and tell her how welcome she is? Do you stare her to see if she's real (after all, she looks like everybody else)? Do you ask about her work in an attempt to relate to her as much as you can? Do you ignore her and continue with your own conversations, unsure what to say and hoping that her presence won't make everybody uncomfortable? Do you hope that your laughter and comraderie shows a picture of people who have become a family even though we're from so many different places? And in so doing, hope that the Holy Spirit might work in them a desire to be more part of God's own family?

It is absurd to think that a woman working in prostitution would come as a guest to dinner - and yet God has done stranger things. After all, women leaving prostitution have come to live with us for awhile, struggling to put their lives together just like so many others who have joined the community for awhile. And strangely enough their presence at the dinner table has always been normal: whatever their background, they are welcome to be part of this crazy family for as long as they want to be. That is, after all, the loving welcome that I expect Jesus extended when he invited prostitutes and tax-collectors to join him, and I am deeply thankful that I have found a way to follow his example.

How much does supply and demand affect prostitution?

Supply and demand is one of the key concepts I learned in the economics class I once took. Assuming there were no significant outside factors (like subsidies), the cost and ease of production would affect the supply of the product, and the demand for the product would affect the price and the quantity produced. Yet, when I look at the situation in the Red Light District and talk to the women there, it feels like something has gone horribly wrong with the economics here. These are the details for someone working in Amsterdam (i.e. the math):


The costs are: 
- Room is 100-150 euros per day (more in the evening); paid in cash.
- Housing is likely 1500 euros per month, as you're not eligible for any rent-controller housing and rent prices in Amsterdam are extremely high. It could possibly be cheaper, but then you're living outside of Amsterdam and paying extra travelling costs.
- Per customer, you give out about 5 euros on supplies
- Health/insurance costs: 200+ euros per month (being self-employed, these costs are higher than average);
- No vacation or sick leave because of the loss of income and the high risk of losing your window;
- Taxes are relatively high, especially since it is, for tax reasons, financially better for the person renting you the room to give you as few receipts for the room as possible, and so you can't declare your rent half the time. Complain, and you run the risk of losing your room to the next woman/pimp looking for a room. 
- Emotional and physical costs, as well as potential theft and abuse.

Thus, simply in order to make ends meet, you need to earn about 200 euros per day. If you charge 50 euros per customer (the standard rate), that means 4 customers in a 10 hour workday; 5 customers if you work the night-shift when the rooms are more expensive. For every person that pays more or every extra customer, that's extra income. But that also assumes every women is using the standard rate. But if you're only getting 3 customers per day at 50 euros, then it makes sense to lower the rate to 40 so that you get 4 or even 5. The cost per customer to the woman is low enough, that the appeal of lowering the rate is pretty high - the appeal only increases if there's a pimp threatening to beat you if you don't make several hundred euros extra per shift. But if everyone starts lowering, then everyone starts making less, and woman lower even further to 30 euros or by doing unsafe things. That means a lot of customers simply to make ends meet, let alone earn extra for food, smokes, pimp, money for home, savings and so on.

Many of the women work 7 days a week, 10 hours a day: crappy hours and a lousy job where you are often treated poorly and seen negatively. Because of that, you would expect that supply of women wanting the job would decrease - and less windows would be rented and the rent would have to go down because of the lack of demand. But there are an endless supply of women, new women arriving constantly. And this is where the economics has gone horribly wrong. There have been too many stories of easy money, too many others pushing women into the business, too many women believing they have no skills, too many countries where poverty is so high that even this bad is better than there.And those who are working in these conditions - barely making ends meet, let alone earning a decent wage - do not leave, even though every economic principle says they should. Is not any other job better? But most stay, as there are no other jobs, little hope of something better, and also, I believe, because the world of prostitution has a (spiritually) dark side that is stronger than the economic rules of supply and demand.

A prayer for the women working in the windows

I pray that you are well. As part of that, I want you to know God and His love. And I also hope that you will stop with prostitution: it harms you emotionally and physically and messes with your heart and soul.

But those things are a lot to ask. It is not that I doubt that God is capable of doing all that, it is simply that I have come to know how messy prostitution is. And I know that there are many possible things that can stand in the way of you leaving this work and/or knowing God better. And so I pray for those things:

I pray for the deadbeat father of your child - that he might be convicted to support you and your child financially.
I pray for those who treat you like nothing more than a tourist attraction - that they might realize that even animals in the zoo receive more respect than they are giving out.
I pray for those moments when you feel like you're barely surviving - that a kind smile or a laugh might remind you of your worth.
I pray for the strange and crazy ideas about sex you've learned and that society teaches us - that we'd all challenge the crazy idea that men need sex, but also that we would all learn that sex really is a good and beautiful gift from God and not something that can be bartered for 40 euros (or even less!).
I pray for your families - that whatever neglect, abuse and/or scorn that you've received from them might be healed and that you might be loved simply for being you.
I pray for those who benefit financially from your work - that your lazy children or partner (or parents!) might be convicted not to use you for your money (and to get their own job) or that they might be criminally charged for pimping and/or trafficking you.
But I also pray for those situations where it is your work that is keeping the family alive and well - that your sacrifice might be honoured, but also that your family might become more creative and more able in making ends meet so they can encourage you to stop and invite you to come home again.
I pray for the circumstances (of the land) you've come from - that wars might cease, that there might be jobs and less poverty, and that there would be less corruption and abuse so that prostitution in Amsterdam no longer appears as a better option.
I pray for those who own and rent out the windows you work in - that they might treat you with respect and give you what you're legally entitled to. And that the government would force them to do so, in the hopes that it also becomes financially less attractive for those involved criminally.
I pray for those who wish to save you - not that a bit of saving for you or your neighbour wouldn't be necessarily a good thing (who, after all, couldn't use some saving?) but that they might actually listen to you and see you as the indivudual you are and not merely as a victim or as a mission.
I pray that you make enough money to make ends meet - and yet I also pray that window prostitution pays poorly, in the hopes that you ask if it isn't time to start thinking seriously about other work.

And I give thanks for all the times when I get to see things going well
- when I see you helped with health or financial stuff,
- when we can make you laugh and bring a bit of joy to your day,
 - when you have found a workplace where you are treated well and can feel at home
- when we feel like we can provide you with social support that you might be missing,
- when you assure me that you are looking after yourself and standing up for yourself - not necessarily because I am convinced you are doing it as well as possible - but you recognize the importance of it,- when you open the door to us and let someone enter into your world for a little while (and even are willing to share your food with us),
- when you have the courage to ask for help
- when you go through the complicated process of stopping - with all its phone calls and regulations and paperwork. And then you share that with us, so we can encourage you and rejoice with you.

And I pray for so much more, but the prayer is long and complicated enough - like the world around me - and it is enough simply to pray. And so I pray for these women, my neighbours, and I pray that it might go well with them.

Recommended reading over prostitution: Achter het raam by Patricia Perquin

Of all the books I've read, probably the most accessible and realistic book that I've read thus far is that of Patricia Perquin (Achter het raam - currently available only in Dutch). Several of the more academic studies that I've read, especially those incorporating the words of prostitutes and clients, probably provide more accurate accounts that lack the necessary flourishing of a novel and the bias of a story written by one person. Other books also capture better the problems of human trafficking (recommended is De Fatale Fuik) or loverboys/pimps. Nonetheless, if you were only to read one book about prostitution and the Red Light District, I'd recommend this one (supplementing it by reading the newspaper and/or watching news programmes).

This book comes after a series of articles in Het Parool written by Patricia, someone who claimed to work several years as a prostitute in the Red Light District. It's thus written from an insider's perspective. Based on my conversations with the women working and what I've read about prostitution, it seems to provide a fairly balanced picture. Not all prostitutes are victims of human trafficking, nor under the influence of loverboys or pimps. Neither is the work solely glamorous, as one might conclude from the recent book, Ouwehoeren. Instead, for many women, prostitution is something in between or, perhaps, another category completely.

The book does a good job in raising good questions and it especially gives a good picture of how emotionally difficult the work can be - from a lack of respect given to those working behind the windows to the complicated relationships with the other women to the demands on her person. It details a bit of the actual work that she does but she doesn't let that overwhelm the book - partly because she doesn't sensationalize it. And she raises questions about what might not be good about how we respond to the work she does: how helpful are the umpteen organisations offering help? how easy is it to leave the work? should the work not be more regulated (i.e., should someone who can speak neither English nor Dutch be allowed to work in the Red Light District? What receipts can actually be claimed for taxes? Should there be a maximum hours per week that someone can work in prostitution and how do you regulate that?). I know a number of others who have now read the book, and I look forward to talking more about it and the questions it raises.

Because Patricia remains anonymous and because her words correspond well with the 1012 project to clean up the Wallen, this leads to suspicious about how true her story really is. The fact that she never mentions the annoyance of tourists, one of the most common complaints of all the women, also raises questions about her story. One fascinating reaction to her book is found on the blog, "the experiences of a prostitute." (before you click on the link, you should be warned that the author writes in Dutch and sometimes uses crass language). The writer of the blog, another person claiming to be a prostitute also writing anonymously, is rather sceptical of Patricia and negative about what she has written. Yet, she also has some things to say about prostitution that I think ought to be heard. The following is a translation of a few sentences middle in the blog entry linked to above:

"Prostitutes are often depicted as murder victims in crime shows and books. Not surprising, as many people consider prostitutes not to be real people. We are seen as inferior, and people who want to harm others find it easier to do that to prostitutes. That is a problem and a danger.... We are not actually outlaws, but we are more vulnerable because many people believe that we are. And thus we must learn to stand up for ourselves..."

this blog entry has been cross-posted on the blog: the Kronemeijers' recent reading

Reading about prostitution

In the hope of understanding my neighbours and this neighbourhood better, I have read quite a lot related to human trafficking and prostitution. Through what I've posted previously on this blog that might have already been obvious, but it seemed good to acknowledge that. 

It seems appropriate then to share what I've learned with others, partly because knowledge is for sharing and partly because putting what I've read down in words helps me process things. And processing is necessary, as the topic of prostitution can often be overwhelming. What is most overwhelming is how complicated it is and, other than my (Christian) belief that prostitution is not part of God's ideal world, very little else is straightforward or clear when it comes to prostitution here in the Red Light District. But it can not be ignored, and I hope that my thoughts might be a way for me to show respect and care to the women working here

The blog entries with regard to prostitution and/or the Red Light District will be labelled with "prostitution" and/or "de wallen." Click on the link(s) to see more of what they are. More books about prostitution, primarily studies written in English that I read a number of years ago, can be found on brendahey2.blogspot.com under the label "prostitution lit."

Home again - back in the middle of all the craziness

My best quote from our trip was probably said after we got home. We arrived at Amsterdam Centraal Station at around five in the evening on Sunday. It was busy - full of tourists and visitors - people arriving and searching where they would go, people rushing to catch trains, and everybody in between. What a difference from the peaceful bike ride through the  polder that we'd just had a couple of hours before!

We came home, ate supper, tried out our new boardgame (an extension to Ticket-to-Ride), and finally went to bed. At no time did the noise from outside of the window really disappear. Lying in bed, we joked about the contrast between our home on an Amsterdam canal and the quietness of the hotel we'd just visited in the countryside. Acch, home again amidst all the crazies. But, as I pointed out, at least they're our crazies.

After all, we're in the middle of our neighbours: whether it be the people in this house that we know, the new neighbours next door, the women that I visit who work behind the windows, or the homeless who stop by for coffee. And even if I groan when I think of tourists in general, it's good to be home again amidst neighbours and people we care about, no matter how crazy they might be!

Not a tourist attraction

Volunteers from the Salvation Army walk around the Red Light District several times a week bringing coffee to the women who are working behind the windows. In the middle of handing out coffee to one of the women, a group of tourists interrupted, asking "what are you doing?"

Having been brought up to be polite to others, even strangers, I began to answer the question. But then I stopped myself. Wasn't it obvious what was being done?!? Who couldn't see that coffee was being passed out to the women - from the hands of someone wearing a Salvation Army coat?

Since it was obvious what was happening, I had to wonder why the question was even asked. It reminded me of the sort of question that would be asked in the middle of a tour. And when I realized that, I wasn't sure with what kind of emotion I should respond: surprise, disappointment, anger, sadness or confusion. I know that the Red Light District focuses on tourism and in the evenings the streets are filled with foreigners. Nonetheless, I can't help but wonder what's wrong with things when giving someone else a cup of coffee could be seen as just another tourist attraction.

The ghost who lives in my house

In the last while there have been a lot of strange things happening in the house. If I didn't know better, I'd say we had a ghost.

First there's the flashing lights in front of our house every day at breakfast, with some random bangs and crashes thrown in for effect.

Throughout the day, the house feels like it's undergoing earthquakes periodically. Plaster also sounds like it's falling from the wall (although fortunately there's no white chunks on the floor), and large booming noises accompany the house being shaken.

The front door of our apartment started sticking (even though it's the driest November in decades). The door handle was also rather loose, so at a certain point I started worrying that I'd get stuck in the apartment one morning.

The marbles in the house are no longer rolling to the same spot that they used to. Much to my disappointment, the houses here are such that marbles normally all roll to one end of the floor and disappear from the cat's sight and his limited attention span. Now, however, the marbles don't end up beside the stove, but instead roll to a metre before the stove at the end of the table: an ideal place to catch the cat's attention.

As I walked into the bathroom the other day, the plastic cover from the drain was moving - popping in and out of the drain like it was possessed.

The simple explanation for most of the above is the fact that the neighbouring house is being stripped bare and having its foundations replaced (12 huge poles - hence the tremendous noise). The lights flashing in front of the house are from the truck coming to pick up the container full of old building materials. With all the shaking, we're somewhat concerned that our house has been shifting and resettling because of the work next door (which explains my doorframe dropping a couple of millimetres). It might also explain the shifting of the lowest point in the house, although I'm not exactly sure how that could come to be.

And as for the moving drain cover? I still have no idea (and must admit that it was a bit freaky). I'll have to wait until I can ask my brother (a plumber) about it. I'm really hoping it has nothing to do with our neighbours, as I'm not sure I could handle what was wrong then, especially as they had already managed to mess with our sewage and water systems when they first started.

Getting to know the neighbours

For a few weeks this summer, I get to take care of the post for Oudezijds 100. On Wednesday, the mail carrier tried to deliver a package but no one was home. So I wrote a note asking them to ring the bell at 102 or 104, where I was pretty sure someone would be home to answer it.

When I came to check the mail today, I saw a note indicating that the package had been delivered - but not to 102/104. Instead, it had been delivered to 112. As it was a business, that made picking up the delivered package a bit simpler. But seeing as this is the Red Light District, most of the businesses are not exactly the respectable sort. Nonetheless, seeing as I felt responsible for the delivery of the package (and there was a clear indication that it had been delivered to the neighbours), I decided to be brave.

And so that's how I ended up this afternoon in a sex shop trying to find a package. As much as I'm all for getting to know one's neighbours, this was the sort of awkward situation I could avoid doing again. However, as there was seen from the balcony last night some suspiciously intimate activity at the neighbours, I'm not so sure I'll be able to do that. I'm really hoping that this isn't a sign that this time living in Amsterdam I might get to know the neighbours a bit better than I really would like to.

Image for the day

As I was walking along the Oudezijds Achterburgwal this morning, I bumped into an image that couldn't help but make me smile. One of the houses along the road is being renovated, and downstairs behind the large windows where prostitutes would generally sit, I noticed something slightly different. The construction workers were sitting there having a break and watching the world walk by.

It's too bad I didn't have a camera with me. I think the guys would have also seen the humour in the image they created.

looking at the Red Light District

I haven't written too much about my neighbourhood in the last while, but it is something that is often in the back of my head. So when I read Marco's thoughts about his experience here in the Red Light District, I wanted to share them with more people as I thought they might be a helpful way to have others see the Red Light District.

Marco begins thus:
"This neighborhood gets me down. And the worst thing is not the prostitutes or drug dealers. The worst thing is the tourists. Isn't it sad enough that humans have strange and dark needs and desires, that they can so easily fall victim to all-consuming addictions and that these are so universal that every major city has prostitution and drug dealing... must we make a TOURIST ATTRACTION out of it? What went wrong?

His further thoughts can be found at his blog, "songs of a soupman"

the friendly neighbourhood homeless guy

When I moved into the community a number of years ago, I was aware that we had a sort of drop-in centre. That part of the life here intrigued me, especially as it felt like I'd be better able to be personally involved with the poor and needy, something I felt Christians ought to do but had no idea how. I had felt pretty distant from the poor and needy while attending Seminary or living in a small town. My only experience with homeless folk was a few random people begging and some of the gypsy camps in Ukraine. When I taught there, a gypsy woman who I saw regularly would often ask for money. I'd give her money sometimes, but I felt rather helpless in knowing better what to do.

And now, I sit and have coffee amidst homeless folks. Sometimes it's nothing more than sitting in the same room as each other - conversations flow among people who've known each other for long and less with those who've just come to visit for the coffee. And sometimes a coffee that's all that's wanted - or a place to get out of the rain or cold and to rest and get a bit of coffee. But sometimes it's a conversation that's desired, something I still find difficult to manage with some people. But with others, it's much easier - and we've built a kind of rapport. So with some of those who walk in, even if we don't talk, there's a general appreciation for the other.

And sometimes we'll even see each other on walking along the street and then we'll greet each other. That I now do that and find that normal is something I'm glad of; it feels like a number of people have stopped being "those homeless folks" who are nameless and in desperate need of help. Instead, a number of guys have started becoming one of my friendly neighbourhood homeless guys, people I enjoy greeting on the street and look forward to seeing. And even if I'm still not sure when it comes to homelessness how best I can love God and others, it feels like there's been a step forward. And I feel honoured that I now have some homeless guys in my social circle, something I would never have imagined possible before I came here.

a different sort of image in my neighbourhood

when going through the Red Light District, one is confronted with a lot of different images. it's bad enough that i try to remember to tell any visitors that they might not want to look around them as curiously as usual when they're walking through my neighbourhood - as they might be confronted more nudity and images related to sex than they're want to see. in some ways, i've kind of gotten used to it due to over-exposure, although as i've been walking along the Achterburgwal more in the last while, i must admit that if one also adds hordes of gawking tourists, it definitely makes for an unpleasant walk through my neighbourhood.

and that's why it's nice to see an unexpected image every once in awhile. i've bumped into the following image along my walk home:

and what's unique about the image is not simply that the woman is fully and tastefully clothed - the message in the poster says something different than the dominant message of the Red Light District. the image here challenges how we see people. in the Red Light District, women are often seen as only sex objects. and this photo challenges this idea, for the captions asks: "would you still look at me [that way], if I was HIV-positive?" it is part of the stop AIDS campaign - and to minimize the spread of AIDS and not minimize the people who have HIV.

and i appreciate the poster (and where it is placed) because i see it confronting people with some of the problems in seeing women as sex objects and it confronts people with the fact that those who have AIDS have a face - and often an unexpected one.