One Strange Thing I Liked About Being on the Street


I liked being on the street, in a way

A Whole New 🌎 World

On the street I found what I always wanted but was unavailable in the world I had come from. I found people. All along when I searched for my birth mother I was looking for people who were looking for me. No one was looking for me. In downtown Honolulu men got in their cars and actually travelled, looking for me. No one ever did that when I was in foster care. And that’s why, when I saw a car slow down and I watched the driver gesture with a nod that he would meet me 50 meters ahead, I got addicted. I had never been wanted. Sure it was only for 15 minutes or so, as long as no one would know. But that little bit of acceptance beat nothing by a country mile. I had made the mistake of thinking Harvard would give me what I wanted. Again I would make the mistake of thinking a partial reward, temporary acceptance, would ease the loneliness of my soul. Hey, you’ve got to hand it to me, I didn’t sit around, depressed because I was alone. I actively took steps to fix it. Crazy steps into a crazy world, but I tried.

Hawaii was so different, with so many words in a foreign language on the street signs (the Hawaiian language). Plus, I had never tried to get by on my looks before. I wasn’t exactly the model I once dreamed of being, before I figured out I’d never be 6 feet tall and 100 pounds. Nevertheless, I was flattered by the men. It was new, the constant compliments, and I liked it.

Sex worker motives outside of drugs can be very surprising—yet understandable

Caroleena, explaining the role of isolation in her choices.

Published by Harvard elite Homeless in HI🏝

Harvard grad on Hawaii Streets Tells All About the Red Light District in Paradise.

Your comments shape content!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: