On days like today, I hate my job.
I hate that I feel like I have to control these women to isolate them from their community to send them back to their countries. Violence twice done.
I tried to provide them the haircare they wanted – while still keeping them out of their old Bangkok neighborhood. Why? Because of the fear in Pratunam.
Fear of what? Of the unknowns in the African community. Who is who? Who says what? Who is watching? Who reports to who? How will they be emotionally affected by seeing old friends? Who might they tell about the transition house location? Because I don’t know the situation, and I don’t trust people to tell me the truth when they’re trying to play me to get what they want…
I try to mitigate where I don’t have answers to the questions.
No wonder they call me Miss Jane.
I’m the big white savior. Vomit.
The other people are not the enemy. The enemy is not those people.
The enemy is the fear inside of me. The fear inside of them. Fear of hunger. Fear of lack. Fear of unspoken motivations. Fear of enemies and curses and not getting our own way. Fear of being oppressed or suppressed. Fear of not helping effectively. Fear of exposure. Fear of failure. Fear of fear.
I grapple to help my staff feel they know what they are doing when they are navigating a world of unknowns. And I fail.
And, in operating out of fear, what do I breed in the women? Mistrust? Anger? Bitterness? Dishonesty?
What does it look like to operate in wisdom out of love? If love was my only motivator and wisdom my trademark, what would that look like? Would it change what I do? Would it only change how I do it? How would it change?
