I find prostitution repugnant and avoid it as much as I can. But in Thailand, it's a big business and, although my philosophical training urges me to condemn it outright, there's something funny about the way it's done in Thailand that really must be seen to adequately judge. Anyway, to avoid turning this into a relativist exodus, I'll tell you a story:
"I'm an a ga-teu-i," she said with a matter-of-fact snazz "and it's a difficult life"
Ing looked at me from across the rusty old table. We were sitting in Ao Nang's intersection with Krabi Town - a desolate strip of food stalls and trinket sellers. Barking orders in Thai at the waiter, she ordered us something spicy.
"So, what's it like being a Lady Boy in Thailand?" I asked hesitantly.
"Well," she said in unusually good English, "it is very bad for us here. I'm a ga-teu-i. That means I still have a dick. But a nice way, respectful way, of saying it is poo-ying-kahm-pet."
Chocking on my water due to her unexpected frankness, I tried to come ask her why so many Lady Boys lived in Thailand.
"Oh honey," she said, "there aren't that many of us. We just all live around tourist areas because that's the only place we can! Nobody else will hire a Lady Boy in Thailand."
Ing makes her living by soliciting faraengs - white guys - on the streets. She is tall and feminine. But her voice made it obvious she was a man. She had tried to solicited me earlier in the day, but I had politely declined.
But the fascination lingered. Ao Nang in the off-season lacks nice weather. Consequently, there isn't much to do. So, when I wandered around the stores later that night, I saw Ing again. Being a Gender Studies major in college, I agreed to take her out to dinner in exchange for an interview.
"How did this all start?" I asked her.
She explained that she knew very young she wasn't fit to be a man - she felt like a girl. She was a girl. So, she waited until after her father died to make the transition to avoid shaming him. She then went college as an engineer but dropped out because she faced oppression and ridicule from her classmates. Her family wasn't supportive, so she went to the streets.
Ing told me that she had a long-time boyfriend. However, he also lived on the streets and was a chronic drug-user. He infected her with HIV.
After she found out, she disowned him.
"So, you continue to work the streets knowing you have HIV?" I said, astonished.
"Yeah, but no sex. I only blow men. That way they never find out I am a woman"
Of course, that wasn't reassuring.
"How many Lady Boys do you think have HIV?" I asked
"Half - or more"
The waiter - clearly annoyed by Ing's presence - arrived at our table with two big bowls filled with yellow noodles. He called it Khao Sai Gui. It was spicy, sour, and greasy. Perfect.
"See, even he doesn't like me. Sure, I'm a prostitute, but it doesn't mean I don't want love," noodles draping her mouth. "We all need love"
Ing's presence was clearly unwelcome by other tourists and staff, so I paid the sixty baht ($2) bill and she offered to take me to the 'lady-boy' hangout.
Why not?
We wondered down Ao Nang's dimly lit alleyways.
"How long have you been doing this?" I asked her. She told me she'd been a prostitute almost five years. to a bar filled with her friends - mostly Lady Boys, but some very clearly were women. They were all prostitutes who finished working. This was where they hung-out when not soliciting clients. Surprisingly, the bar was far more relaxed than the streets of Ao Nang; nobody here was interested in hustling me.
Quickly, I found these girls weren't the girls we imagine when we endure the constant badgering going on around Soi 1 in lower Sukhumvit. Each had a fascinating story. Phra was amazing at karaoke, Than was a jokester, and Mee was a badass checkers player. Of course, I knew this before, but it's oh-so-easy to dehumanize the touts and scams. Ing told me that these were her sisters.
Surprisingly, all of the Lady Boys spoke English at a level far above that at which the average Thai can speak it. And almost all of them had at least some post-secondary education. Some lamented their work in the sex industry while others embraced it. A few were only dancers, but the vast majority of them were prostitutes.
Contrastingly, the girls who were not Lady Boys generally ended up as prostitutes out of a different kind of desperation - the lack of education and money drives them to the seedy industry. They spoke little English and, unlike the Lady Boys, were unwilling to engage a lot with me. It became clear that although the Lady Boys had welcomed me to this local hole-in-the-wall place, I was invading these other girls' space.
Overall, I left the bar pretty confused about how I feel. Unlike so many travel stories, there isn't a satisfying ending.
Maybe, though, it'll suffice to say we do all need love.
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