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I feel sorry for all of these girls, of every race, color, and culture. I feel sorry for any girl tricked into this kind of servitude. But, in all honesty, I especially feel sorry for these Muslim girls, raised in often-repressive societies. In their world, if they marry, it is their custom that they are expected to be "good girls" and to be virgins on their wedding night. It is a custom in some of these cultures, that the new husband will call upon his mother-in-law the day after the wedding (and, presumptively, after the bride is deflowered…) He is to then thank his mother-in-law for doing such a good job of raising a chaste girl. To the more liberal of us, this is scarcely believable, yet it is a fact of their culture. Many of these girls feel, in their hearts, that they have accepted a short tour of prostitution as a sacrifice for their families. Many girls falsely believe that they will get rich from their work. What the Muslim girls also know for certain is that when they go back home, that they will be outcasts, and that they will probably not be able to ever marry within their own culture.
You have to wonder, do the "companies", the "managers", and the "clubs" care at all about what they are doing to these girls?
Each club seems to have different living standards and working conditions for its girls. And, every girl is treated differently by her mama-san. Some girls are well taken care of, well-fed, and receive monthly medical checks. Some girls are relatively neglected, or worse. One very young girl that I met was naturally small and thin. She was quite "model-like" when she first came to Korea. The combination of regular meals and the extra hormones from the birth control injections had a stunning, and predictable affect on her young frame. She filled out, and became more womanly and curvaceous looking. Mama-san decided that the girl should stay petite, and the girl was restricted to just one meal each day.
Most girls are perpetually sad, living a life that begins at about 4:00pm each afternoon, and may end at about 3:00am each morning. They endure the risk of ruining their bodies with tobacco, alcohol, and restricted diets. They are sad inside, yet they learn the tricks of the trade, and they smile genuinely at every new customer. They learn the "greeting-routine", asking in broken-Korean, or in broken-English, "how are you, where are you from, what is your name, please sit down, would you like a drink, would you please buy me a drink?
In one case, I actually saw "The Book" that the girls memorized all of the standard questions, answers, and phrases from. What a deal. Great working conditions, and a free education.
But, what if the girls learn that this life is not so glamorous? And, what if they try to run, to break free of this indentured servitude of the tawdry sort? Their managers hold their passports and their work visas. The girls are convinced that if they run, they will be arrested. I don’t know, they may be right. Others fear that if they run, that agents of the recruiting company back in their homeland will do harm to their families.
Some clients have the opportunity, as I did, to "buy" the girl’s contract and to set her free.
It was relatively expensive, but I was repaid a thousand times over when this gentle 21-year-old waif cried her goodbyes to me. Sad tears, saying goodbye to me. Happy tears, knowing that she was finally free to go home. I saw her last when she got on the train to Seoul, later to connect with a flight for her home in Kyrgyzstan. Home, to rejoin her family, to see her papa, that she sorely missed. Papa hasn’t got a clue what his baby girl has been doing.
The Great Divide is a series about inequality.
Take the Long Hill Road exit off I-95 in eastern Connecticut and curl south toward the waterfront city of Groton and you’ll find each of the places that briefly employed Maureen Brainard-Barnes. There is the TJ Maxx and the AutoZone and the Stop and Shop. And the Chester’s chicken counter, where she made the potato wedges. And the shopping center with the Groton Cinema 6, where she picked up discarded snacks from the carpet in exchange for free admission and a bag of popcorn.
In 2005, Ms. Brainard-Barnes was a 22-year-old single mother who had difficulty holding down a steady job. She never could afford her own place, staying with her sister for long stretches and occasionally with a boyfriend. Modeling, she thought, could lead to a music career. As soon as she enrolled on a site called ModelMayhem.com, she received dozens of e-mails from places that purported to be modeling agencies but that, after a few clicks, turned out to mean nude modeling and sometimes working as an escort. She wasn’t thrown by seeing this. What did surprise her was the money.
Within a few months, Ms. Brainard-Barnes was making up to $2,000 a day on trips to New York City. She posted ads on Craigslist and worked out of a hotel room in Midtown for short stretches and then returned home to care for her daughter. After so many years of depending on others, she could leave her responsibilities behind and become another person for a while — and she could earn enough money to fulfill those same responsibilities. Online, she could be her own boss and not share what she made with anyone — not a pimp, not an escort service, not a boyfriend.
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