The Hustle

Recently I was searching for an acquaintance who had not been taking his medications and was out using crack on the streets. My theory was that if I could get him to take his meds, he'd come off his mania and get himself straightened out. I recruited my trusty and fearless friend to accompany me on this potentially dangerous excursion.

I'd learned enough through volunteer work to know that crack hustlers generally work on the 6th Ave area near downtown, so there we went. It was only a few moments before the first guy approached the truck. Being two of us you could see the puzzlement on his face. Eventually we were told that "T" generally hung in a graveyard a few blocks away. The gate was shut so I got out and walked into the graveyard. The area was densely populated with people whose hearts were still beating. I announced that I was looking for "T" and was fielded by questions concerning my intent. There were those who had "better" products than "T", those who thought I was a cop, etc. Eventually I ran into a guy I knew from the shelter who told me "T" was out on a run and would be back soon.

I passed the time surrounded by a group of men who seemed happy for a diversion. I asked them questions about their mode of "employment," average daily "take," their spending priorities, hygiene and other health issues.

The main fact is that the men were there because of drug addiction. The difference between them had to do with their priorities. Many of them, especially the older ones buy drugs immediately upon getting any money. Then they must stay out in the cold and continue working to keep up their high. There are those who first gather enough money for a motel room, thus ensuring themselves a warm place to sleep, a safe place to do drugs and facilities for bathing, etc. The money they earn afterwards goes toward drugs and food, bus fare for work or store runs the next day.

My biggest surprise came from a young man driving a late model Ford pickup. He "just likes a little dope now and then" and hustles on the streets in exchange for drugs "customers" might give him, or buys drugs with the money he makes. He had reasoned his approach by telling me that since he had a wife, two kids and a mortgage and other payments, this method kept him from using "the money" for drugs and incurring the wrath of his wife. He claims that she has no knowledge of his drug use or his method of procurement. He definitely had an attitude of superiority to the other men there. He claimed that he made more money than they because he took pride in his appearance, and was able to avoid the more degrading aspects of the hustle because of it.

"T" was not all that happy to see me and tried to come up with an angle to get some money out of me, using the warped logic that my money would save him from his dirty deeds. The truth is, "T" has a place to live, stay warm and clean up if he so chooses, so I just gave him his meds and wished him well.

I cannot think of a more apt place for these men to exist than in a graveyard, because they are dead. Dead on purpose. This is no chicken or the egg situation. These men sell their bodies to obtain more drugs. They wanted to die before they ever started this hustle. The hustle just gives them one more reason to numb their minds.

Some of my local acquaintances, who are a little outside the gritty world I sometimes inhabit, wonder why "they" don't do something about "it." I suppose "they" is the government and "it" is the fact that people are unhappy and sell their bodies to get money for drugs to medicate their unhappiness. Somewhere deep inside I wonder if "they" aren't resigned to the fact that "it" keeps the desperately poor and the victims of "unfairness" relatively sedated. By allowing this behavior to occur in a relatively small area, the government knows where they all are and can manage them. Imagine if the poor didn't have dope to keep their minds paralyzed. Marie Antoinette could speak from her grave to tell us what happens.

The fact is, it is not the government who is accountable for these people. I don't care how mean your stepmother was, how bad your school was, or whatever your sad story, you are accountable for yourself. The only way to wean ones self off drugs is to face the fact of accountability to God. No amount of dope excuses us from His judgment. There are many places these people can go for material and environmental escape for the time it takes to physically withdraw from their addictions. It is in the hand of the individual whether they want to take that time of clear mental capacity to seek God and take account for their actions. Every person I have seen fail after rehab has forgotten to surrender to God.

The way to address this problem of prostitution is not to focus on the volume or gross factor of what these people do, but on the fact that they are living souls who are hiding from the voice of God. I can only pray that God will give me the capacity to help if any one of these people ever reaches out for help. I may be the only "Word" these people ever read. That is a great challenge to live consistently as a servant.