Freeing prostituted women
Presbyterian Rev. Glenda Hope and Presentation Sister Rosina Conrotto had no direct model when in 1997 they decided to start a ministry for homeless prostituted women.
What drove them was a desire to do something about women who were selling themselves on the street in San Francisco and suffering more horribly for it than anyone looking outside in could know.
Rev. Hope, whose San Francisco Network Ministries serves the Tenderloin District, had just presided at five memorials in three months for San Francisco prostitutes who had being violently killed.
That was enough. She contacted Sister Rosina and proposed the ministry that would become SafeHouse.
A few months later they signed a lease on a Mission District apartment building to house the ministry -- the same day that Rev. Hope learned that the bodies of two more murdered prostitutes had been found. One had been shot by a john, the other beaten.
SafeHouse marks its 10th anniversary with a fund-raising dinner Feb. 9 at St. Mary's Cathedral. The celebration is a testament to two women of faith who decided to take on one of the toughest of social ministries and made a success of it, as well as to all the women who have graduated and returned to mentor residents at the 10-bed SafeHouse center.
The event will open with a reception and art show featuring painting and sculpture by the women of SafeHouse.
Although Rev. Hope and Sister Rosina had no model when they began, they formed one hand-in-hand with their graduates. Today they can look around at a SafeHouse alumni meeting and see friends and fellow professionals -- women who have gone from the street to careers and relationships. The first graduate of SafeHouse is now board president.
One in three women do not relapse after a year in the program, a rate that may not sound impressive but is high for the recovery field.
"So what makes the difference?" Rev. Hope asked during a recent visit to SafeHouse. "That's a total mystery. If I knew the answer to that I'd go on a speaking tour and make lots of money."
But one ingredient is the insight that the worst of the violence done to prostituted women is not physical. The worst is the psychic damage done to them as minors through abuse, neglect and abandonment - crushing damage, in many cases, to the victims' receptivity to affection. Incest is typical.
"We make it a point never to speak of them as prostitutes but as prostituted women, because they are victims," Sister Rosina said.Rev. Hope added: "Prostitution is not what defines them. People have asked me, ‘Why do you have such a passion for working with prostituted women?' For me they represent the centuries of degradation, objectification and exploitation of women around the world. Every religion has dumped on them and condemned them."
Consider Cary, an extreme example of the pattern. Rev. Hope tried to reach her but could not because Cary's early life experiences had destroyed her ability to receive love. Rev. Hope sees Cary working in the Tenderloin these days but can do no more than hope and pray.
"I've described trying to relate to Cary as Velcro, but it's only one way," Rev. Hope said. "The receiving piece is not there. No one could ever bond with Cary."
Fortunately, most women who come to SafeHouse have some emotional health to build upon. That is where Rev. Hope, aided by Sister Rosina and other volunteers from the Presentation order, go to work.
Rev. Hope spoke at length about SafeHouse success stories: Elena, Sylvia, Sybil, Wendy.
Elena had done hard time for robbery with a gun. Clean and sober for seven years, she now works two jobs, is a new grandma and just bought a fixer-upper.
Sylvia came to SafeHouse at age 40. Raised in a middle-class suburb, she suffered long-term incest and supported herself as a stripper. She is now a licensed tax preparer.
Sylvia left the program early. "She wanted to make room for her younger sister," Rev. Hope said, "which I thought was one of the most selfless things I'd ever seen anyone do."
Sybil, a more modest success, came and found a better life shining shoes in the Financial District.
Wendy came "so traumatized and so inside herself that her voice was tiny," Rev. Hope said.
"I don't know if you've ever been so scared or hit with such pain -- that's the way she was," Rev. Hope said. "Or like in a dream, it doesn't come out."
Wendy now wears an engagement ring and attends a prestigious private college on a full scholarship. She is majoring in biopsychology.
The first time she returned for an alumni meeting, Rev. Hope noticed the change: "I could understand every word she said."
By Rick DelVecchio
From the February 6, 2009 issue of Catholic San Francisco
