I Witnessed The Life-Changing Power Of Kindness In The Brothels Of India

I watch the girl’s movements – the way she saunters a bit in her walk, the way she tosses her hair over her shoulder, the way she quietly reaches for the knee of the woman next to her. I hear hurt in the rise and fall of her voice as she shares pieces of her story, even though I wait for translation to understand. Her mannerisms and attitude remind me of a teenager. I wonder how old she is and decide she must be 19 or 20. She lays her head on the woman’s shoulder, like a child. Later I learn that she is 27, the same age as me. 

This is a brothel in one of India’s red light districts. There are several thousand women hidden away on this street in tall buildings stacked above legitimate businesses that act as a cover. Many of these women were trafficked here as children and teenagers, lured by boyfriends or false job offers. There are plenty of painful stories here, abuse and betrayal that can never be erased; but I am also surprised to see the healing marks of love and kindness evident in their smiles.

Few outside women are allowed in here, and I am honored to have this privilege. I came here with a team of women who have worked hard to build relationships with the brothel workers over the past several years. As a journalist with Love Justice International, my job on this trip was to gather photos and interviews with the staff that monitor nearby looking for potential trafficking victims in transit. This red light district stands as a constant motivator for their work – to intercept people before they are brought here, sold, and exploited. 

I came to this brothel of my own will, with my own freedom to leave, to walk back down the dark stairway and into the light with no consequences to my reputation or physical safety. Unfortunately, most of the women I sit with do not have that same privilege. 

The Brothel Workers' Stories

“She’s saying that many of them were brought here by boyfriends or lovers, and then they vanished. They can’t go home because it will bring dishonor to their families, so most of their families think they are dead or missing.” 

Multiple voices are talking at once – I imagine by their tones that they’re agreeing with each other, sometimes teasing or sarcastic. I’m leaning close toward the translator, trying to catch his words over the noise. The woman speaking is wearing a yellow T-shirt, and her voice is powerful, easily carrying over the din. The other women seem to quiet a little when she speaks. 

She says that she found herself here about 22 years ago. Someone promised her a good job, then left her here and she never saw him again. 

Others join in. There are many stories, and I am surprised at their openness in the presence of strangers and foreigners. Their stories are all variations of the same things: deception, financial need, and rejection from society. 

It is nearly impossible for a brothel worker in India to leave and start a new life.

This woman’s husband brought her here because she was unable to have children. This woman came looking for her runaway brother and ran out of money and options in her search. This woman met a guy who invited her to a carnival, and instead he brought her here. It’s like a twisted game of “this little piggy went to market.” 

Finally, I hear the story of the girl in white, the 27-year-old. The woman beside her puts her arm around her shoulders protectively while the girl shares: She was 10 years old when a person approached her and gave her a piece of candy. She ate the candy, fell asleep, and woke up in a different city. She remained a prisoner there for seven years, servicing men until she managed to escape with a few other girls. She reached another city and shared her story with a guy. He told her, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you to safety.” He brought her here, and she’s been here for a decade. 

The Transformative Power of Kindness

It could have been a really dark and depressing day. I could have gone back to my hotel, burdened and weighed down by the tragedy of each of these stories, eager to board the plane in the morning and get as far from this place as possible. But I didn’t. I felt invigorated.

The women who brought me to the brothels embodied hope in every way possible. They have spent years visiting and building relationships there, withstanding verbal and physical harassment from pimps and customers to be there. They brought food and supplies during the pandemic, when other relief operations had left the brothel workers on their own. Their love is evident in the way they embrace the brothel workers, cupping their faces and laughing with them like old friends. 

It is nearly impossible for a brothel worker in India to leave and start a new life. She will be recognized by hundreds of men who will never allow her to find a different job or keep property. 

One of the women explained it this way: “Once a girl steps inside, whether willingly or unwillingly, she can’t really leave. When she steps out, people look at her and say, ‘Oh, she comes from here.’” This same woman had tried to leave for five years, but landlords kept kicking her out as soon as they found out about her history. 

I saw the power of kindness to change someone’s life in ways that I could never do in my own strength. 

Even so, this team of heroes did the impossible and helped one woman get out. She now works at a church nearby and comes back with the other women to visit her “sisters.” I didn’t know this until after we finished visiting. 

I didn’t see trauma victims in the brothels; I saw women that were loved, understood, and cared for. I saw women that had allowed joy to co-exist with their grief. I saw the transformative power of kindness. 

Closing Thoughts: Lightening the Burden

There are so many stories of grief in our world today, no matter what country you live in. I can’t remove the pain of someone’s past. I am limited in my capacity to change laws and cultural norms or to meet the sea of financial needs I see around me. 

But kindness is such a simple thing. That word – kindness – had always felt insignificant to me until I saw it truly in action in the brothels. For the first time, I saw kindness as more than a social obligation. I saw the power of kindness to change someone’s life in ways that I could never do in my own strength. I saw its power to cultivate hope and make someone believe in their future again. 

What impact can we make if we put this kind of kindness into action – genuine kindness that listens, sacrifices, is in it for the long haul? 

The translator’s low voice carries across the din of conversation around us, and I lean in once more. “She’s saying that she can’t change what happened in the past, but by sharing together – it lightens the burden.” 

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