Prostitution...
Filthy. Disgusting. Down-Low dirty.

There's a resurgence of prostitution in my nieghborhood that I haven't seen since I was in high school. Young women. All shapes and sizes prostituting themselves to make a buck. I read once, in a book "Women comprise about 70% of the world's poor." You think about the sex trade in such places like Cambodia or India. But never would I have imagined that I would witness it infront of my house. Just because it's not children being trafficked or because these women willfully choose to do what they do, doesn't make it any less sick? The psychological and physical destruction of an individual no matter what age is morally wrong. Of course, men are not excluded from this statistic, but for the purpose of this blog, I will focus primarily on women.

With the economy down spiraling, there has been an increase of young women donating their eggs to fertility clinics and others who succumb to the streets selling their bodies. The news has a report on this the other night. I,once, considered, donating my eggs to a fertility clinic. The ads were easily found in the college newspaper. I clearly remember, "Earn extra cash and get paid up to $10,000." And in small print, "Preferably, a tall blue eyed blonde with an above average SAT score." I only fit one on the desired characteristics. I was a poor college student in need of some cash. And yes, even if I had fit the profile,I would have been afraid of what would have been the health ramifications of those extensive treatments to ovulate more and what wouldh have happened to me after the long awaited procedure. So I completely understand what goes through alot of women's minds to some extent. But I have to confess, I was not in such desperate need. So yes, I could've donated eggs, but I did not. I simply worked a part time job. But what if that was not an option? What if I had other mouths to feed? These are the questions that many young women have to face in reality.

As I drive home from a late night with my friends, I see these women, not much older than me, on the corner of a busy street.Ironically, they stand infront of my nieghborhood church. Not even hiding the fact that they are selling themselves, they chat amongst themselves. One prostitute, catches my eye. She is a petite black girl, perhaps in her early 20s, smoking a cigarette, while clutching small purse on one side, wearing shiny black pumps, short hair combed to the side, and wearing nothing more than pair of revealing tight shorts. I wonder what goes through her mind. The qouta she has to meet? How cold and tired she feels? I want to ask her. I want to ask her many questions. And I know I would seem like an arrogant ignorant cow. She will think," How dare you question my lifestyle and my work?" or she may say, "Do you think I enjoy this? Why? Because I can't find a job? That's why!" Or simply, "Why do you care? Mind your own business." My stomach turns into a knott as I see a white van pull up. There is a 30 second chat and as fast as the van pulled next to her, she is gone. Another trick. Another dollar closer to the quota.

The next morning, there is a used condom in front of my house. I notice my younger brother kicking it around with his shoe. I scold him for even allowing his shoe to touch it. I have the LAPD's Prostitution and Gambling hotline scribbled in my notebook and I keep telling my boyfriend that I want to call. (I don't know how Prostitution and Gambling can be on the same line and worse,the same number- maybe it's just me.) A part of me knows this isn't the solution. And that my goal is ultimately for asthetic reasons. I want my nieghborhood to return to how it used to be. I want it to be safe and innocent. You know, those really nice nieghborhoods on tv. But in this world today, things aren't what they seem. And honestly, what will my call to LAPD really do, except have them relocate the "business" elsewhere.