The grit and beauty of serving exploited/vulnerable women
There was an armed guard, a needle exchange van in the parking lot, men congregating outside, and naloxone nasal spray in the office down the hall (in case of an overdose). Not my typical Friday night scene (...couch, popcorn, and TV marathon of Fixer Upper).
In totally transparency, I had been dreading it all week.
My friends and I had been wrestling with the dark truths about sex trafficking for many weeks now. And volunteering at Rahab's Sisters was something tangible we could do. I wish I could say that right decisions always felt good. I knew this was a right decision but Friday at 3pm, it didn't feel good (yet). I was nervous.
The first surprise came a few hours later when we turned into the parking lot on 82nd Avenue. It wasn't as scary as we thought *cue sighs of relief that we weren't in a dimly lit back alley* The second surprise came when we walked into dining room. I've been to a few soup kitchens and homeless shelters serving meals. But this... Tablecloths (real linens). Beautiful bouquets of fresh flowers. Plated meals with real dishes and silverware.Glowing candles. A room set up as a foot spa.
Radical hospitality.
Imagine being a woman on the street walking into a space where no one has expectations of you, there are no men, there are no conditions for you to be accepted, you are safe, and nothing is disposable. Not your dinner plate. And not you.
Love is in the details. Like offering coffee, tea, cider, chocolate milk, and juice. Because in their daily grind, they don't get choices. Friday nights they do.
After an hour of orientation with leader Kelly Grace, the time had come to let the women inside. I'd be lying if I said my heartbeat didn't spike. But something Kelly said replayed in my mind: Be you while letting them be fully them. This space was created to be authentic, accepting, beautiful and safe. So just be me. No pretenses. No expectations. No agenda.
Good stuff except I quickly found my way to the corner of the kitchen washing dishes for the first 20 minutes, essentially avoiding all contact.
Really, Amy?
Good golly. I came to my senses and found someone to take my spot as I reminded myself: Just be you. And to my surprise, within minutes, I felt (moderately) comfortable. Some women kept to themselves. Some stuck together. They were generally older than I had assumed. And not as 'put together' as I assumed. It also wasn't as chaotic as I expected (boy I did a lot of assuming before coming). We served plates to the tables as new women arrived. We washed dishes, served coffee, cleared tables, and fulfilled need-lists women filled out to get items from the hygiene supply closet. A few trained volunteers did foot massages.
And then I saw her.
Do you ever have a moment that hangs in time? Moments you're certain will stick in your mind like an ever-lasting Polaroid? I took one Friday night. It was Kelly (the leader). She was bent over her 7-month-pregnant belly massaging the feet of a woman (who was biologically a man). Black short wig. Ripped black tights. Pregnant round belly. Full peaceful heart.
Acceptance in absolute purity. And mutual courage.
The night went by fast. I'd like to tell you we had deep meaningful conversations with women but that takes time. Trust is earned. Connection is on their terms. (another intentional posture of Rahab's Sisters). I learned so much Friday night. To name a few: One, not to make assumptions. Two, love is in the details. Three, acceptance is powerful. Four, I may not have much to offer but being a peaceful presence can be a gift. And five, exploitation, abuse, homelessness, addiction and brokenness is devastating. I'm not going to play that down because seeing it on Friday night was very difficult. But...
More than ever, I believe love is the strongest force.
Which means we all have what it takes to be part of a solution and spread hope.