The face behind the window pane was solemn, yet the eyes were intent. She was the lure, her eyes focusing on the target. Who was she, and did it really matter? Was her target worth the physical and emotional risk? Did the monetary reward relieve the psychological affects? So many questions ran through my mind as I viewed the girl in the window, young and pregnant. I wondered what experiences (or non-experiences) in her life were the contributing factors that attracted her to this place where money was to be earned through sexual gratification, void love. The place was Amsterdam’s Red Light District, the year 2000, and the girl still remains a mystery, but the questions still linger.
Prostitution is a profession of the ages. As some professions come and go, prostitution has and will always remain a part of life. As I looked at the young, pregnant girl in the window, I thought about the person and not the profession. I thought about the fact that she was someone’s daughter, and she was soon to become a parent herself. I also thought about the point in one’s life when the decision making process can go horribly wrong. As children, many have dreams of their professions in adulthood. Some dream of being doctors, lawyers, teachers, engineers, architects, I can go on forever, but at what point in one’s life does prostitution become the dominant choice? I wish I had the opportunity to talk with the girl in the window. Knowledge of her past, her motivations, and her desires, may alleviate my ignorance and provide me with an understanding of who she was.
My daughter was fifteen years old when we were strolling through the Red Light District. Her questions were direct with a sympathetic tone. She felt such sadness when viewing the girl in the window, and was astonished to see that she was at least six months pregnant. Why is she here Mom? What will become of the baby? What makes a person decide to take this route in life? I wish I had the answers. I wondered if we had the privilege of questioning the girl directly, would she even know the reasons for her presence in the window. One may ask why I decided to expose my daughter to the seedy side of life. As a child of privilege: private academies, upscale neighborhoods, world travel, overprotective parents, and extremely attentive and loving maternal and paternal relatives, I felt that she needed a “wake-up call” from life.
