Kids are smarter than we give them credit for. And its NOT sexual abuse.
One of my least accepted, yet most obviously true, beliefs is that kids are human beings. They are not delicate paintings to be protected from the outside elements. They are not property that should be fought over like baseball cards. They are humans with independent minds, able to make decisions and feel emotion. Their humanity entitles them to the same rights that folks a little older and (sometimes) bigger have.
Lily and I investigate the outskirts of Lumpini Park in Bangkok. It's late. The park itself is closed. We sit on the steps along side a large statue of the king. We watch the little square around us. Below is this kid, about twelve. His Dutch Boy haircut moves back and forth as he talks with a chubby girl who looks a little older.
The girl suddenly looks up at us. The boy follows her gaze. He sees us and springs up the stairs two at a time.
"You got cigarette?" He asks us.
I take one out of the crumpled pack in my pocket. The kid laughs and asks Lily for a light. She lights his cigarette. He nods to her and skips down the stairs. On the bottom, he starts to moonwalk, slither, break and do all kinds of dances—obviously for our benefit. We laugh and call him Michael Jackson.
Soon other kids join him. One, a couple years younger, lies on the giant stone railing. He talks with the chubby girl. The others range in age from ten to fourteen or so. They talk amongst themselves. An older boy, about 15, tall and skinny, flicks a cigarette lighter on his elbow, his hand, his forehead. The crowd breaks into laughter and applause. There is more talking. All at once, the whole gang looks directly at us. They laugh again. Then they head up the stairs together, coming towards us.
Soon, we're surrounded.
"Where you come from? Where you go? You beautiful lady. (Directed at Lily, not me.) You take my picture?"
I take a picture of them with Lily. They laugh, raising their hands in the air, making Mickey Mouse ears. Lily takes a picture of them with me.
Michael Jackson says, "I take a picture of both you together." He reaches for my camera. I give it to him.
He backs up to get a view of us all, then takes the picture and hands me back the camera. Surprised?
Lily glances over the stair railing and sees an older Thai guy, pot belly, dressed in clean jeans and a nylon shirt.
"Looks like the undercover cops are here." she says.
The guy wonders around the square with his hands clasped behind his back. He stops and stares at nothing in particular—a wall, the parking lot, who knows? Then he continues his walk.
"Maybe he's a pimp," I tell Lily. "These kids look like they're on the make. They say that whenever you see a whore, a pimp isn't far behind."
Eventually, the guy's wife shows up and he takes off. We laugh at our misunderstanding. Then we notice a car. It's been circling the square. Now it crawls along the side of the staircase we're sitting on. The ten year old, who had been lying on the railing, gets up and walks over to it.
The driver rolls down his window. We can see he is Thai—or at least dark and oriental. The driver and the boy talk and joke for awhile. Then the boy walks around the side of the car, gets in and the car drives off. We've seen it finally. Our first—and only—case of child prostitution in Thailand.
And it wasn't bad! These kids aren't exploited—at least not any more than anyone else who works. These kids are having a fun time. They work for themselves and have a good time doing it.
What about the other child prostitutes? The slaves and dollar-a-blow-job girls? There are two levels of prostitution in Thailand. The commercial, Patpong, level with the glitter, money and foreigners. Then, there is an under-level. Here the cheap girls service the taxi drivers just in from the country—or the country people themselves. That's where the kids are. Yet even here, they're cared for and fed, more than they would be if they stayed at home.
A few months ago I wrote about how, in an amazing show of puritanism, a U.N. display talked about the problem of child prostitution. In one place, the display said children are often forced by hunger into prostitution, if it weren't for that, they would die of starvation. Further on in the same display: It must be our first priority to end child prostitution any way we can. So starving to death is better than sex.
Regularly, The Bangkok Post reports police raids on small Thai brothels. Police 'rescue' children and return them to their parents to starve. These raids never take place in Patpong. They're always in the poor suburbs, or out in the countryside. That's where the girls are.
That, too, is where the indentured servants are, working their way out of their parents' debt. Once free, the girls leave these sleazy places. Many times, they head for the bright lights and big city. They take the glamour jobs in Patpong where they can meet exciting foreigners and wear expensive clothes.
Many of the Patpong sex clubs are owned by former prostitutes who worked in other clubs until they could afford to open their own. This would be a Western-style success story—the American dream. But Americans would never tolerate it. It involves sex for pay—with kids. For Americans—and many other Westerners—that's worse than death.
Most sides of the political spectrum, down deep, believe that sex is bad, like drinking or smoking. The difference between libertarians' and their conservative/liberal counterparts is that libertarians' believe that adults should be allowed to do bad things. They're all wrong.
Sex is not bad. It's human, natural, and fun. Human beings are the only species who can achieve orgasm before puberty. What a shame not to take advantage of that. Of course there are dangers, AIDS, various VDs, and pain. The responsibility is with the one who is aware—just like in adult sex.
Male humans reach their sexual peak between the ages of eighteen and twenty. Female humans reach their sexual peaks at thirty. Since women raise kids, could it be jealousy—or vengeance that makes them want to deny sexuality until we're 'adults'? Is it strange that young men rape, when laws and parents deny them legitimate sexual channels? At the height of their sexuality?
Don't tell me that sex is abuse. Not when there is so much REAL abuse.
You want child abuse? The family visits grandma. She smells funny, and is sometimes nasty.
"Come on, give grandma a big kiss and a hug."
"I don't want to."
"Grandma loves you, now go ahead and kiss her!"
Squeezing emotions from a kid like juice from an orange, that's abuse. Every time I see the neighbors—or Bamey—telling their kids. "Hug me! Kiss me!" I shudder at the abuse. Every kid who's told they can't leave "until you kiss me goodbye," is abused.
You want more child abuse? Which adults have to sit in a room for hours at a time, then raise their hand when they have to take a piss? School is child abuse.
Abuse? Tell kids that a dead guy with nails in his hand is God. They'll spend the rest of their days burning in hellfire if they don't love the guy who brought the dead men into the world to get nailed in the first place. Church is child abuse.
More? Parents get divorced. The kid stays with.... oh yeah, the court decides. Usually it's mom. Ask the kid? Why? What do they know? Our legal system is child abuse.
Don't tell me taking picture of a smiling naked little girl with her hands between her legs is child abuse, while any of the above is 'love.'
The key is CONSENT, CONSENT, CONSENT. Anyone who has seen a mother drag her screaming kid down a supermarket aisle, knows that kids can give and withhold consent. It's about time we started listening to them.
(Source: http://www.arancidamoeba.com/mrr/mykelcol.html)