June 24, 2021•285 words
I live in the city center. Not the kind of city center with nice cafés and greenery, but the kind of city center that feels like a huge shopping mall. During the day, it’s full of shoppers, it smells of capitalism, marketing, excessive consumption and impulsive decisions. During the night, another crowd comes in. Drugs and sex work, mostly. There is this spot, just next to the parking building, where all these women just stand in line. Sometimes they just look at me, sometimes they talk to me. No matter if I’m passing by foot or by car. I see them wait, and next time I pass by, one of them is gone. I always wonder how it works. Do they talk safety, money, location, corona? Or not at all?
Most of all I wonder how they’re doing. I usually have to stop myself otherwise I start to feel sick. I cannot imagine how it is to be in that situation. Mostly because I don’t imagine this being the kind of sex work that’s done willingly. Maybe it is the case for some of them. But when passing these women, I always think of the stories of emotional manipulation, kidnapping, abuse (emotional, physical, sexual), the fear I’ve heard talk about in interviews, and it riddles me with pain and horror. How can humans be so horrible. And I also wonder what brings people to solicit this service. Do they not know? Do they not care? And to hire a person who is doing this work willingly, and is happy to do so, sure. But humans that have been/are still potentially abused? I do not understand.
Let’s just say that walking home always makes me thoughtful.