By In her thoughtful exploration of the realities surrounding sex work, Shilpa Samaratunge (ground View’s ) urges us to confront the deep societal questions and biases we hold about sex workers. “Who is a sex worker?” Samaratunge asks. Is she an immoral woman with loose values, too lazy to pursue ‘real’ work? Or is she a mother who, desperate for survival, has no choice but to engage in sex work? These questions highlight the assumptions that often colour our perception of sex workers, yet Samaratunge reminds us that the truth is far more complex.
In Sri Lanka, the number of sex workers remains shrouded in uncertainty. Estimates range from 40,000 to 50,000, though the reality may be even more elusive. The data often comes from outdated studies, like one from 2010 that focused on just four districts of the country. While these figures attempt to quantify the number of sex workers, they fail to capture the nuanced and varied experiences of those involved in the trade. From children to those over 60, from men to women, and from locals to foreign nationals, sex workers come in all shapes, sizes, and backgrounds. Some are driven by economic necessity, others by choice, while many find themselves caught in circumstances beyond their control.
Ignoring Reality
Samaratunge points out that sex work is not merely a transient phenomenon but a long-standing one, deeply embedded in society. Though some may argue for the criminalization or abolition of the trade, Samaratunge suggests that these solutions often ignore the reality of sex work’s persistence. Sex workers do not just disappear, and their existence shouldn’t be ignored or stigmatized.
One of the key arguments Samaratunge makes is that sex work should be viewed as real work. This perspective challenges our conventional understanding of labor and morality. If we deem other jobs like banking or waitressing to be valid professions, why should sex work be any different? Many sex workers hold “day jobs,” working as bankers, receptionists, or waiters during the day, only to turn to sex work to supplement their incomes. For some, it is a conscious choice, while for others, the financial incentives of sex work outweigh alternatives that may seem unviable.
Alternatives
Samaratunge acknowledges that viable alternatives to sex work are often limited by economic realities. Jobs that offer a comparable income are hard to come by, and in some instances, the stigma attached to the profession makes it even harder for sex workers to transition out. For example, a project that attempted to provide alternative employment for sex workers in Sri Lanka by offering them catering jobs failed due to one central question: “Who would buy food made by sex workers?” This question illustrates society’s prejudices and the deep-seated stigma that surrounds sex work.
The author also examines the various risks sex workers face, from violence and exploitation to the threat of sexually transmitted infections (STIs). While legalization and regulation may not solve all these problems, Samaratunge suggests that they could help mitigate some of the dangers. Regular health check-ups, a more secure and controlled working environment, and access to legal redress for victims of trafficking and abuse could significantly improve the safety and well-being of sex workers.
Legalization, as Samaratunge argues, would afford sex workers a greater degree of autonomy and protection. It would provide them with the option to access medical care, have more control over their income (less money would go to pimps and law enforcement), and enable better regulation to reduce trafficking and violence. Samaratunge acknowledges the flaws and limitations of legalization but insists that it is a more viable solution than the current approach, which criminalizes sex work and pushes it further into the shadows.
At its core, Samaratunge’s argument is about recognizing the humanity of sex workers. She contends that the moral debate surrounding sex work often obscures the fundamental human rights of those involved in it. Just as the public mourns the deaths of journalists, soldiers, and fishermen who face higher risks in their professions, we should mourn the losses of sex workers who are equally vulnerable to violence, exploitation, and death. By recognizing sex work as real work, we can begin to offer sex workers the respect, protection, and rights they deserve, rather than perpetuating their marginalization.
Samaratunge’s work challenges us to reconsider the way we view sex work and sex workers. It forces us to move beyond a narrow moral framework and to see the complex socio-economic factors that drive individuals to engage in sex work. Whether it’s seen as a choice or a necessity, sex work remains a part of our world, and it is time we address its implications with empathy, dignity, and the willingness to create policies that protect the most vulnerable among us.
As Shilpa Samaratunge powerfully puts it, “If a sex worker is raped, abused, sexually or otherwise assaulted, or even killed, it somehow matters less because in our eyes they matter less.” To begin changing this narrative, we must first see them as human beings, worthy of the same respect and rights as anyone else.
