Walking Down Lor 22
It was Friday, January 17, our first night in Singapore. We were all checked into our hotel, one that sat two streets down from one of the illegal prostitution streets in Singapore's Geyland district. After a quick dinner, a few of us decided to head out for beers. The route we were advised by Fr. Martino to take would lead us through one of the illegal prostitution streets, Lor 22, that was known to have Vietnamese sex workers.
It's worthing taking a quick aside to explain that Singapore has legal and illegal prostitution. What delineates the two is a bit obscure. Some brothels are legal, and the workers there are required to carry health cards and undergo health checks (source: Wikipedia, so take it for what it's worth). Outright solicitation on the street seems to be illegal as it can't be easily regulated; if you've been to Singapore, then you'll know that they're keen on regulating and controlling social norms.
There were around eight of us in the group, six men and two women. We all created some distance between each of us so that we could get our own take on what it was like to walk down Lor 22.
My own walk was part of my general task of investigation prostitution areas to find underage Vietnamese girls being trafficked abroad.
As I walked down Lor 22, every few steps forward would result in a woman grabbing my arm. The two women in our mission group walking behind me noticed this and joked that I was a hot commodity. I had to explain to them that I was merely making eye contact to see who might be Vietnamese, but even the slightest glance in their direction would indicate some sort of interest or provide an opening for them to offer their services.
It was interesting at first, mainly because I've never been accosted like this before. But that feeling of interest quickly turned into frustration and angst; the more eye contact I made with the women of Lor 22, the more I could see just how troubled, desperate, and unwilling they were to be in that situation. As my Krav buddy, Nate, put it, "it's straight up slavery."
There were not as many Vietnamese as originally expected. Based on sight and picking up on the languages, there was a general mix of Vietnamese, Thai, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, and Chinese. A noticeable percentage of the females were also transgendered. My initial walk through Lor 22 led me to believe that Vietnamese comprised a very small percentage of the overall population of that street, a deduction that compelled me to walk back down Lor 22 on the way home, just in case I missed something.
One by one, we exited the street and met around the corner. Exchanging looks with each other, we silently agreed that walking through that street was an intense and uncomfortable experience.
After powering through a few beers, we started to make our way home. The group was lagging behind, so I opted to head out ahead. I was tired and I wanted to get to bed, and I also wanted the freedom to explore Lor 22 to see if I in fact missed a small road or something.
Admittedly, the beers amplified my initial frustration, which didn't help when I walked down Lor 22 already ready to smack a pimp.
"Come At Me, Bro!"
I made my way down Lor 22, I took a sharp right into a cul de sac. I hadn't been down this road before. I went to the end and heard what I thought was Vietnamese being spoken among three girls. I took out my iPhone to activate the voice recorder, and then inched closer to them, pretending to be on a call.
A pimp about 15 feet away said something to get my attention. He looked to be a 5'5", skinny man in his early to mid-30's. I would put his ethnicity around Malaysia, but I can't say for sure. He wore a t-shirt, shorts, and baseball cap that shadowed much of his face. Like every other pimp on that road, he had a bluetooth headset in his ear and a smart phone his hand.
When I looked at him, he extended his arm and waved his hand side to side. Not sure what he meant, I ignored him and stayed put in hopes of eavesdroping on the conversation taking place in front of me.
The pimp motioned to me again, this time with a look of annoyance.
Already turned up from beer-infused angst, I walked up to him and asked "what do you want?"
"You can't stand there," he replied, dismissively. For whatever reason, his arrogance, his stance, his appearance, and his occupation all heightened my anger.
I locked eyes with him and (stupidly) pressed on, "what do you mean I can't stand there?"
"You can't stand there," he insisted, and that's when he got in my face. "You don't scare me," he continued, and then he said a few more words that I can't remember.
What I do remember is smirking while another pimp stepped in to calm down the situation and separate us. When we had distance, I stepped backwards keeping the pimp in my sights and told him (again, stupidly) "dude...I will fuck you up."
I walked away tense, angry, still tipsy, and still very much ready to throw okie-dokes. I eventually made my way back to the hotel. As I approached the front entrance, another pimp, Chinese desent, about 6', 180 lbs, shorts, t-shirt, bluetooth, and smart phone (it's as if this is the pimp uniform in Singapore) called out to me.
"Hey, what do you think," he asked, motioning to the girl five feet in front of him. "You talk first before you take home." I didn't slow down the pace of my walk, but I did turned my head to her. We made eye contact for one second, and then she looked at the ground.
She looked like a beaten puppy.
You could tell that she didn't want to be there. You got the sense that she was forced to stand there by the hulking man in front of her, trying to sell her to any male that walks by. She looked absolutely sad and dejected.
I smiled at her, mainly to try and communicate to her that I meant her no harm, that I didn't judge her.
I hated that pimp. I was already riled up from my previous encounter, and this guy was icing on the cake.
Hindsight Is Always 20/20, but Still...
I entered the hotel, got to my room, and hopped on the computer to vent. My first support group was my Krav instructors. I explained the pros and cons of fighting and walking away, and they all seemed to mutually agree that not fighting was the better option: The road was a dead-end, I didn't know the area, there were plenty of other pimps around who might help him, it's dark, and any one of them could've had a weapon.
I fully recognized that that entire situation was as dangerous as it was avoidable. I didn't need to increase the tension that my unknown presence already created for probably everybody on that cul de sac. While I originally felt that showing any bit of cowardice or meekness to these tools would only empower them to bully me, feigning fear and walking away 100% safe was better than getting in a fight, whereby the outcome would've then become completely unpredictable.
Admittedly, I was still stewing about this confrontation a month later. Logically I know the right thing happened, which was not getting into a fight. However, I also relished in the idea that wrecking a pimp would be both cathartic and helpful to general society. I brought up the situation and these feelings to Thuy, and I asked her "what role does this kind of man play in our society? What value does he add? Would taking this pimp out do anyone any harm, save for the harm incurred by the pimp?"
Sure, everyone probably has some redeeming quality about them, but they pimp I almost fought and the pimp in front of my hotel were both low-level scum. I honestly felt that no one would care if they were forcibly removed from existence.
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