Towering buildings and skyscrapers may be structures of progress, of nation-building, and of building a steadfast common identity. We see them around the areas and hubs of fast-paced living, of luxurious living, and of lights.
But city lights, as the night opens, offer us a different world view. Everything can happen.
As I walk around the area that is Makati, I am nervously bothered seeing foreign men, well mostly, and there are also the other hunters, with Filipina women on their hands. I would hate seeing them grasping the buttocks of the women like devouring bread. I would hate seeing them hold hands as if they have known each other for a long time. I would hate seeing a foreign man purchase a Prada bag for the women in exchange for something gruesome.
On the other side of the coin, there are the transgenders, whom I consider pimps, basking with foreign men, mostly Asian, to seek out a pleasurable experience. Likewise, I would hate seeing the nightly pubs springing like moss on walls, or tall grasses on lawns, which cater to people of different spectrum, as they would claim. These are dirty places, mirrors of poverty. I will not forget the shows that serve what they call as “beauty” and “glamorous” when the cooking involved rats and cockroaches, perhaps broken fingers, like the baker from Sweeney Todd.
After the show goes talking and after the talking goes deals, and after the deals goes commando. And this all happens during the dark. Not only this, the boon of human trafficking and prostitution have went beyond border lines, Filipinas transported to become mail-order brides, models harassed and enslaved, with the promise of one single thing: to walk and to be famous.
Cue Coldplay’s “Playing God.”
This is what exactly inspired me to kick start my advocacy against human trafficking and prostitution in all their kinds and forms. The status of prostitution in the country has been getting worse by the day, and by the night, as well as the status of human trafficking around the globe.
Glad that we have laws penalizing those who engage in such acts, but again, we ask ourselves: are these enough?
Some men and women are turned into commodities like collections in a room, like toys of a child, like horses in a pen, and bought for pleasure. They glance at them like gods and goddesses never knowing the cost of what they do. I have seen, in one of the runway shows I have watched, a person trying to establish communication lines, or in simple terms, trying to get the number, with a model, perhaps to purchase him. Monstrous.
We may be gearing ourselves and driving towards progress but when progress involves under-the-table and behind-the-curtain activities, this has to stop. Driving toward progress must be clean, as it should always be.