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Kristen Anne Glover

Five in Tow

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Hidden Victims of the Sex Trade

pockets

Recently, a celebrity visited a brothel in South America.  According to reports, it was the kind of place where women are kept.  Their bodies are sold for another’s gain, and he went there, this man, and paid to have sex with a prisoner.

It astonished me, even though I am not a fan of this young man and do not have any illusions about his lifestyle.  Still, I could not fathom how a man who had been raised by a woman in this world could grow up to do something like that.  I could not understand how a celebrity, who had women throwing their underwear at him and volunteering to birth his babies, could seek out sex from a woman who cannot say no. 

A woman who has no choice.

How can a man—any man—sink so low?   How can so many men do such a thing?  How can there be such a demand for that kind of illicit sex that children must be stolen to meet the demand and women must be beaten, threatened, and raped into obedience to fill the need?

My head spins.  What has happened to our men to make them think that this is okay?

I am the mama of boys, you see, boys who will stretch out and grow up into men.  I see the world their eyes drink in and it makes me weep inside because I know what it is to shield their eyes and guard their bodies and pray with all hope that they’ll make it to adulthood without any collateral damage.  I want to grab them and hold them close and look for the signs of brokenness that makes a man abuse those he was made to protect.

Boy on pier

I am the wife of a man who grew up in this sex-saturated culture, a man who, when he was just a boy, went to a sleepover and was introduced to the Playboy channel.  He is inundated with sexual advances every time he watches a movie or walks past a checkout aisle in the grocery store.  Everywhere, women who are not his wife are tempting him to lust, daring him to think of them as nothing but bodies, and willing him to purchase their sexuality with his time, attention, and finances.

I am a friend to a man whose father struggled with pornography, who left magazines under the same nightstand that held his Bible.  This grown-up man showed his boy what really mattered to him without ever saying a word.

Keys

I am the neighbor to the man whose parents kept their bedroom door locked, and for good reason.  But that boy found the key and opened a door he could never shut again.  Even as a grown man, he would struggle to block out the violent and degenerate view of sex he found behind those four walls.

I am the advocate of the man who was once a boy who did not know how to stop another man from using him, a mere child, for his own sexual pleasure.   Forever, that child would view sex through his pedophile’s eyes.

I am a citizen in a country where the rights of adults are valued over the welfare of children. Freedom of speech is sacred; we’ll gladly sacrifice the innocence of children in its place.  We teach boys to look up to men who make babies with multiple women, cheat on their spouses, hire prostitutes, and produce media that sells sex for profit.  We call them athletes, actors, and entertainers, and that makes it okay.

I am a woman surrounded by boys who will grow to be men, and by men who were once boys.  In their manhood, they have choices, but in their boyhood, they were victims too.

Skinned knees

From a very early age, perhaps before they could understand what was happening, their minds were inscribed with words and images, attitudes and actions that contorted the truth.  Natural feelings were awakened far too early by those who did not care to train and nurture them correctly.  Boys, young boys, were left to find ways to gratify desires they were not mature enough to handle in ways they were not wise enough to avoid. 

They were told that their sexuality was not valuable.  They were told they weren’t worth waiting for, that their sexual desires could be filled in any base way by any base woman and it wouldn’t matter at all.  They were taught that they could pay for sex, whether on the internet or in some brothel, and it would only prove their masculinity.

They did not understand that they were giving away their manhood for nothing.  They were not told that their purity was a gift, that their sexuality was beautiful.  In fact, they were taught the opposite.  They were told that the proof of their manhood was in how well they spread it around.

Boys

How then, could these once-boys grow up to believe that the most intimate part of themselves was worth guarding?  How could they believe that their body was so precious, only one woman was worth it?  And how could they believe, wait, and hope for the truth that one day, a woman would love, cherish, and guard that gift herself because she knew the importance of it?

How could they understand the evil of the sex trade when comedians joke about hiring hookers as if paying for sex is as innocuous as ordering a pizza?  How can they believe that women are worthy of respect when talented, intelligent women use their beauty and their bodies as a commodity?  How can they believe that men can wait, that their sexuality is a gift worth receiving, when the world honors the men who think and act like beasts?

They can’t. 

If we do not combat the message of male sexuality that the media offers with the truth, we will never raise men who respect women and themselves enough to act any differently than the young celebrity who visited a Brazilian brothel just because he could.  Instead, we will raise more men who buy women and degrade themselves because that is what they’ve been taught to do.

We can talk about the evils of sex trafficking.  We can work to rescue the women involved.  But we will never make real change unless we rescue our boys too.

There are two kinds of victims of the sex trade.  Unfortunately, only the girls are making the news.

Faith, Parenting 13 Comments

30 Days to Enjoying Your Children More: Unplug {Day 18}

Welcome to our series!  Find Day 1 here.

Welcome to our series! Find Day 1 here.

Last night, the kids and I lit the Christmas tree and turned off all the other lights in the house.  We gathered candles and lit them too—a half a dozen or so scattered around the living room like fireflies.  Faith and Jonathan brought two tall tapers to the table so we could have dinner in their hushed glow.

It was just the six of us, sometimes talking, sometimes silent, watching the flames and enjoying the comfort of sitting close and sharing a meal together.  My children’s eyes twinkled, full of the wonder of Christmas, the enchantment of the evening, and the expectation of good things to come.

“I want to pray,” Kya said, unexpectedly.  Micah’s warm little hand instinctively reached for mine and Paul put his hands over his eyes.  Kya prayed right in the middle of the meal, just because she thought of something to say to God that couldn’t wait.  “Thanks for making us,” she said.

It was a good prayer.

“I like this,” Jonathan said, nearly singeing his hair on the candle.  All the other children smiled and nodded.

“I’m going to have a candle collection when I grow up,” Faith mused.

I watched her playing with the wax as it pooled up on the pewter candlestick like a glop of warm jam, and I was awed into silence.  It takes so little to be happy.  Sometimes, all it takes is a little quiet to let your ears hear what your heart is trying to speak.

But our world is far from silent.  It has become ever louder with each passing generation until it seems that there is not a single place on this earth where the noise has not permeated.   The average American spends nearly 5 hours a day watching television, two hours a day online, and at least an hour a day staring at a cell phone screen.  Sixty-six percent of all American homes have three or more televisions, and seven out of ten homes keep the TV on during dinner.   Most families have the TV on all the time, whether they are watching it or not.

There is no silence.

Our attentions are so divided, most of us multitask our media, watching TV and surfing the internet at the same time, listening to music while texting a friend and playing a Facebook game.  It is no wonder we don’t enjoy our children.  They are just another part of the noise.

Perhaps it’s time we unplug. 

A few years ago, I made the decision to keep the TV off if my kids were awake.  It was my habit to wake up and turn on the morning news shows.  But I had become increasingly more aware of the fact that my children were watching what was on the screen.  The programming, including scary news clips, was not meant for children.  Neither were the commercials, which often sold products and services using very adult situations.

It was not an easy break.  I missed it at first.  But I reminded myself of this: no one ever got to the end of her life and said, “I wish I’d watched more TV.”  I will not wish I’d sat on a couch more and stared at a box longer.  No, I will wish I had lived my life more fully than that.

I am far from being free from the noise, however.  My children will tell you that while I don’t watch TV, and I don’t own a cell phone, I do spend far too much of my day plunking away at my laptop.  They know that if I am staring at the screen, they might have to ask a question two or three times before I hear them.  Faith says, “Don’t you know Mommy’s in her computer trance?”

If I am not careful, I allow myself to engage more with my computer than I do with my children.  I become frustrated because they are making noise and I can’t concentrate.  I yell at them to stop arguing instead of getting up and going downstairs to see what’s wrong.  I become annoyed when they need something from me because I am trying to work.  I fill up my lap with a laptop instead of a child.

Have I really done anything better than what I was doing before?  Of course not.

Enjoying my children means I must give them my full attention because I enjoy my children more when I am fully present, when they have both my ears, both my eyes, and my undivided delight.  I enjoy them more when I am not attempting to multi-task my thoughts and my affections.

To do this, I must turn off the media.  I have to keep the TV off, limit the times when I work or play on my computer, and let the phone go to voicemail.

Then, in the quiet, I can connect with my children.  That means that when they are talking to me, I respond with my eyes.  I watch their faces, not a screen.  I listen with my ears to their voices, not to the TV or the music, and not texting someone at the same time.  I answer with real words, not “Uh-huh.”

It is such a simple but profound difference.   Your children know when you are not engaging with them.  They can tell.  That’s why they pat your arm and say your name over and over again when you’re busy doing something else.  They want to know you are really there.  They have learned that often, you are not.

Your children want all of you in their moment. 

Unplug.  Let the phone ring.  Just because you have it with you does not mean it needs to control you.  Let the texts go unanswered.  Let Facebook update itself.  Be unavailable today to the distractions of a noisy world and engage the people you really care about.

Today, make it a point to connect with your children in the quiet.

Unplug

Unplug

Join us tomorrow for Day 19: Rest

For further thought:

1) Matthew 6:24 and Luke 16:13 talk about how we cannot serve two masters.  We are unable to divide our affections.  In the context, money is the second master, but anything can take God’s place in our hearts, including media.  Does your media usage reflect the fact that you are trying to serve two masters?  How is that working in your home?

2) Most people are familiar with the phrase, “A house divided cannot stand.”  How is dividing your attention destructive to your family?  How is it counterproductive to fill your home with sounds and images that do not reflect what you say you believe?

3) Today, keep track of how often you put your children second to media.  Sometimes, it is appropriate to make them wait, but often it is not.  Evaluate yourself.  Are your affections divided?  Are you too plugged in to a device and not as plugged in to your children as you need to be?  What changes can you  make to correct this problem?

Fiction, Parenting 11 Comments

I believe you can find grace for the mother you are and help to become the mother you long to be—a mom who has the freedom to choose the better things and enjoy her kids right now.

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