Oct. 27--The accusations against a Gary man who police say is a serial killer of women, several of whom worked for pimps or escort services, are particularly grim for the women in this room.
But not all that surprising.
"How many of you have almost been killed?" asked Brenda Myers-Powell, her eyes sweeping over some 40 women at Friday's weekly meeting of Prostitutes Anonymous inside one of the women's divisions at Cook County Jail.
Most of the women raised their hands.
Myers-Powell, who leads the group, would raise her hand, too.
"In ... 25 years, I got shot 5 times; I was stabbed 13 times," she said, harking back to her own time on the streets.
That time is long over. Myers-Powell extricated herself from that life and built a new one dedicated to rescuing women from prostitution. She co-founded The Dreamcatcher Foundation and leads this group for the sheriff's Women's Justice Program at the jail.
But the women attending the Prostitutes Anonymous meeting are still trying to get off the streets.
For them, the bodies found in Indiana are a fearsome reminder of the dangers they faced when they turned to prostitution -- and will face again if they return to their lives on the street.
"You are taking a chance every time you get in a car, every time you take a call," said Christina, 42, who is serving a 120-day sentence for drug and battery convictions. (All the women in this column are serving short sentences at the jail for prostitution or drug offenses. The Tribune is not using their last names in order to avoid a public identification that could hamper their attempts to leave prostitution.)
"You could get in that car," said Georgette, 45, "and you could disappear."
When they first embarked on prostitution, they weren't thinking of the danger. Christina was exchanging sex for drugs, an addiction that was only one part of the troubled life she described. She was molested between the ages of 8 and 11 by a relative, she said, and has attempted suicide seven times.
Teresa, 44, who also said she had been molested as a child (when Myers-Powell had asked how many in the group had been molested, nearly everyone raised a hand), was one of 12 children. Her mother couldn't afford to get her nice gym shoes like Nikes or Reeboks, she said -- but the local drug dealers had them.
She asked how she could get them, too. They told her.
She was 12 years old.
Georgette was homeless and in her 40s when a man offered her money for sex.
"I didn't have a job; I was living from place to place," she said. She took the money.
And with it, they all took the risks.
Myers-Powell told the women that she understands.
"I know what it's like to get in the car with somebody who you know it's the wrong car to get into," she said. "And you get in anyway, because you got nowhere else to go."
Indeed, "Sometimes we don't have a place to stay," Teresa said afterward. "If a john offers you a place to stay, to bathe, to eat," you take it.
They tried to ignore the dangers.
"I figured it wouldn't happen to me -- that ain't gonna happen around this area," Georgette said.
"I told myself if I don't think about it, it won't happen," Teresa said.
Natasha carried something sharp for protection. Teresa and Georgette worked only in their own neighborhoods. Christina tried to work only for regular customers.
But the danger was there -- especially, Georgette said, if she went out on the street drunk or high.
Someone under the influence of drugs or alcohol is not thinking about their personal safety, she said, but about how she can get more.
"You're self-medicating," she said. "I admit, there were times I didn't remember who I got in the car with."
The murders in northwest Indiana are a chilling reminder of the possible consequences.
"I was hearing about girls jumping in cars and they get found and ended up in garbage cans, and I just always said to myself, 'Oh, that ain't gonna happen to me,' " Georgette said.
"But today I know that it can happen. So I'm done with that. I'm done with that lifestyle."
Myers-Powell leads the weekly meetings to help her and other women follow through.
They may have been told they were worthless, she told them, as she herself once was; but in fact, they are strong women who can pull themselves free, and even serve as guardian angels helping other women extricate themselves from prostitution.
She is heartbroken, she told them, when she hears stories of young women ensnared in prostitution who died alone and were never found.
"Do you want that to be your story?" she asked them.
"No!" "Uh-uh!" came the chorus.
"It's your turn to turn it around," she told them, "and do something positive with your life."
Whether they take that turn will become clear when they are released.
But for now, sober and clean, shaken by the latest murders and bolstered by Myers-Powell's fierce exhortations, they intend to try.
blbrotman@tribune.com
