The Bonds of Chosen Sisterhood

When Rita arrived at Thistle Farms, the two-year residential program that helps women heal from systems of prostitution and exploitation, she didn’t expect to like the other women who were there. 

When working on the streets, other women were the competition, she says. She was nervous about living with other women in a house as part of her recovery, which is the Thistle Farms residential model. 

“I’ve got to go live with a lot of other women?” Rita remembers thinking. “How is that supposed to work?” 

But 15 years later, three women — Dorris, Jennifer and Rita — are the best of friends, finishing each other’s sentences, loving each other’s families and showing up with chocolate when needed. They’ve supported each other through recovery and relapses, been there through the loss of parents, and stood in each other’s weddings. 

They’ve seen each other through rebuilding their lives, from graduating and moving out on their own to getting promotions while working at Thistle Farms. (To participate in the free program, women commit to two years of communal residential living, as well as going to therapy, getting a job at Thistle Farms and working toward personal goals.) They shared pride when they got their first paychecks, bank accounts and house keys, at a time when they weren’t used to people trusting them with such responsibility.  

The Golden Girls 

The trio calls themselves “The Golden Girls,” because at ages ranging from 45-53, they were older than other women in their Thistle Farms house. And their long, close friendship has helped not only them — it’s become a role model for other, younger women who are looking to quit working on the streets but are skeptical of trusting others.

“When I came in, I had serious trust issues and I was seriously pissed off at the world,” Jennifer says. “I just needed to laugh more than anything, and these two were the funniest in that ding-dang place. We have gotten kinder and a lot softer (over the years).”

“Sisters for life” is one of Thistle Farms’ mottos. “But that doesn’t mean we have to always get along,” Dorris says, laughing. Like people who have been friends for years, they also gently rib one another, laughing at past mistakes — be they big life decisions or awkward fashion choices. 

A conversation with all three of them in the same room is a roller coaster of emotion. They laugh and talk about good times, and they also get teary or silently pull back when talking about tough times. Sometimes, the conversation even gets a little bit raunchy.

Like the best of friends, they’ll tell each other when they think someone’s wrong or has made a mistake. And thanks to what they’ve experienced at Thistle Farms, they now forgive themselves and each other.

Most of all, they’ve learned to trust again, which is one of the hardest lessons of recovery — and something they’re teaching other women at Thistle Farms.

Sisters for Life

When Dorris’ mother died, she didn’t want to leave the house. Her friends tried to get her to come spend time with them. “It was crazy, because I would say, ‘No, I can’t go nowhere, because my mom might come,’” Dorris says. “I wanted to sit still so I could feel her presence.” 

Her friends honored that, but they also made sure Dorris knew she wasn’t alone, particularly during holidays. On Easter, Dorris’ mom’s favorite holiday, Rita gave Dorris praying hands made of chocolate inscribed with the Serenity Prayer — a mantra that’s essential to the Thistle Farms way. Dorris was struck by how pretty the chocolate was. Eventually though, she admits, she did eat it, because many people enjoy eating more sugar after they stop drinking alcohol or doing drugs.

The friends got a DVD player so they could watch movies (no scary movies, please), and they focused on playing cards (mostly spades) and spending time together on Friday nights. Friday nights were the hardest, Dorris says, because that’s the crucial night when working on the streets. Many people get paid on Fridays and have extra cash. Staying home on a Friday and not having to hustle was an adjustment, and Rita and Jennifer made it easier.

While the women wanted to change their lives, Jennifer concedes it was a hard decision. “I was addicted to that wild, fast-paced, high-risk life I was living,” she says. When she decided to enter Thistle Farms, she thought, “Oh man, my life’s gonna slow down. It’s gonna be boring as hell.”

But things change. “When you just start transforming, you are happy for real,” she says. “We laugh together because there are genuinely funny things — and it’s not at the expense of somebody else, and it’s not induced by drugs.”