I like my job. We do good things.
We are available 24 hours/day at the other end of the line for anyone who needs to talk about anything that is troubling them, and anyone who needs a place to stay, or counseling, or medical help. We show up at hospitals and police stations, and many other locations, to help a person through what could be the worst day of their life.
And we get kids out of the sex trade. Sometimes.
Some other times, the kids we make contact with are gone. Nothing we say can convince them to trust us. Or their pimp finds them and takes the child away. Or the system fucks up.
Or maybe nothing. Maybe the kid is so hurt, it appears that there is nothing left in them to help. I’ve worked with people in the sex industry before and it is painful enough to know what goes on in the lives of adults. The old saw, of course, is that is it worse to know that a child has to endure those same things. And that some souls can’t come back from the damage. It can be like trying to grab ahold of someone made of water.
Instead of looking at someone dressed a certain way, and seeing them wearing a sign that says, “Prostitute,” see a sign that says, “Help.”
All of the bad things that happen to the kids I’ve met, the things that break them down or make them disappear forever, happen right out in public everyday, with hundreds of people watching.
