No Place Like Home

This weekend, on what I later realized was the 11-year anniversary of me leaving the sex industry, we had one of the most memorable outreaches EVER.

For starters, we had a young woman go out on her very first outreach since escaping the traffickers who brutally forced her into sex work. We have been walking alongside of her for the past couple of years and Friday night, she was ready to turn her pain into purpose. She was so thankful for the healing and rebuilding that has taken place in her life that she wept with gratitude throughout the night. It was an honor to witness this moment in her journey.

Later that night, at the end of the outreach, we pulled up to the strip club where I used to work. This club is a landmark in so many ways. It was the place where, as a broken 19-year old girl, I first stripped and sold myself to strangers. It is also the place where, years later, a compassionate manager, who felt just as trapped as I did, offered to pray with me that God would help me find a way out of the club. Weeks later, God clearly spoke a message to my heart that gave me the strength to leave—“I am going to take care of you. I will never let you down.” And He hasn’t.

This is also the club I sat outside of wondering if there was any way I could reach the girls still working there. My heart bleeding with prayers, remembering them. As it turns out, there was a way—and a simple message, “Her value is far above rubies and pearls.”

Friday night, on the 11-year anniversary of the weekend I quit, and after 6 1/2 years of visiting that very club, desiring to speak love, value and purpose into the lives of the women working there, we were told that the club would be closing the following day. After 53 years of business, the building will be leveled and turned into an airport parking lot.

This would be my last time at the club. And while many of the clubs we visit allow us to hand-deliver the gift bags to the girls, this particular club received them at the door and never allowed us inside. Something in me would not let me leave. So I asked the manager if he would let us in, just so that I could say a proper “goodbye”. And for the first time, since we have been doing outreach, I walked into the club.

It felt as though I entered a time warp. Aside from some wooden stalls they built for more private “lap dances”, nothing had changed. Even much of the staff was the same. Some of them said that they were happy the club was closing—that they finally had a reason to leave the industry. One woman who had been there 25 years said that she WOULD HAVE DIED IN THAT CLUB if it didn’t shut down. Others were not as glad to hear the news. They didn’t know where or if they would be able to find work. We were able to tell them about some of the resources we have.

As I walked in, a young woman threw her arms around me saying, “I have always wanted to meet the girls who have been bringing us gifts. For 6 years we have looked forward to these gifts. Nobody EVER gave us anything or did anything nice for us. You were the only ones who cared." She brought out her camera to take pictures with us and cried like we were long lost sisters.

We spent some time in the dressing room, talking to the girls about their plans for the future. It was the same dressing room where, piece by piece, I sold my outfits on the night I quit, knowing there was no turning back. These women too are at such a pivotal moment in their lives and we hope they will take us up on our offer for support.

Where many clubs have high turnover rates, this particular club seems to keep the employees they hire. Many of the girls reported that this was the first and only club they had ever worked at. And after several years, it was all they knew.

One woman told a volunteer, “This is the only home I have ever known…and there’s no place like home.”

This statement struck me because I can remember a time when the strip club was the only home I knew. I can remember a time when I had become so familiar with being sexualized and objectified that it was comfortable to me. So comfortable, it was almost comforting.

And “home” is exactly what I found on the day I walked into the Oasis, my church. “I am finally home” were the words that came to my heart. I could feel my Loving Father, with His hands outstretched, welcoming me.

We hope and pray that each of these women will discover a home—a refuge—unlike any they have known. And that the closing of this club will mark a new beginning in their lives. That they will come to know that they are loved, valued and purposed and that this revelation would penetrate every corner of their hearts and lives! Here's to new beginnings!

With Love,
Harmony Dust
www.iamatreasure.com