Oped»
Men at work
JUL 05 -
I offer my services to clients, just like any other profession. And I’m proud of what I do,” Hassan (name changed) said unabashedly as he spoke to the South Asian audience of HIV/AIDS professionals. In the next thirty minutes, Hassan talked of his early life and traced his social and psychological journey to becoming a male sex worker (MSW), now living a healthy life—with HIV.
After a decade of being childless, his parents finally had Hassan. Naturally, he was treated delicately and with much affection, his parents sometimes becoming overprotective of their only child. Hassan recalled being discouraged from playing with other children too long and older boys in the neighborhood often poking fun at what they called his “effeminate plumpness”. He was a socially withdrawn boy and felt that he led, in retrospect, a relatively insular life as a child. Advancing into puberty, he began to feel attracted to other males and enjoyed the sexual innuendos flung at him. He would visit local parks and beaches to get picked up by men “cruising” for sex at such places. When he received what was to him a hefty sum of Rs. 50 from one of his sexual partners, Hassan realized that this pleasure seeking act could fetch him money—loads more than what his father, an impoverished rickshaw driver in a Karnataka town, had ever been able to provide. (Karnataka is among the high HIV prevalence states in India.) Without a decent education, Hassan’s prospects at making a good living were, to him, not very bright. “If this is who I am, then at least I can transform my identity into a profession and consider it as providing a service that has high demand and good pay.” With these thoughts, he decided to become a full time sex worker. Along the way, Hassan contracted HIV. But with the help of a local NGO providing health and HIV related services for men who have sex with men (MSM), including male and transgender sex workers, he was able to get the care, support and medical treatment to live healthily despite his HIV infection. Hassan still continues his profession with dignity and pride, coupling it with his staunch advocacy for the rights of male and transgender sex workers.
Hassan’s story can make many feel uncomfortable in their seats. Several unconventional issues with stringent legal, social, and moral policing around them converge in his narrative. Most prominent among them is that he provides sexual services to other men. Sex work has traditionally been viewed as the province of women and people are not accustomed to thinking of men inhabiting that domain except exclusively as clients. But sex work (i.e., paid sex, either in cash or as gifts) by men, for men has existed since Greco-Roman times. In Asia, there is much ancient literature chronicling the practice and prevalence of male sex work in countries like Japan and India, for instance. Yet, the notion of men selling sex is an inconceivable reality in most societies. This is because “sex selling” is understood, by and large, in terms of power dynamics where the party with lesser socio-economic strength and stability may have little other recourse than to succumb. The vulnerability of that party is further exacerbated by its lack of access to proper education and other forms of social and personal empowerment. Women have traditionally occupied that lower status making them more likely to take up or be forced into “selling sex”. That status of women has not changed much, globally. The power dynamics stretch beyond the socio-economic to the most primitive and enduring perception of women as biologically inferior to men. This perception fuels the thinking that it is those who are physically weaker and prone to subjugation who sell sex and those who are physically more powerful and capable of subjugation who buy sex. Men are perceived as being incapable of occupying the space of the subjugated and the idea of sex selling by men seems therefore like an aberration dismissed with discomfort.
But here’s the reality check. Many men and boys from economically disadvantaged communities who venture into large cities and engage in menial jobs with long hours and low pay face sexual abuse and exploitation by their male employers. Many then decide, as Hassan put it, “to sell sex out of choice as a service because they think that if I am to be abused wherever I work, why not turn it into something where I have control over it?” Sex work therefore becomes a means of economic survival, especially for those without any form of social protection—such as garbage picking boys on the streets of Karachi, or young transgendered people at busy crossroads in Kathmandu, or male migrant workers with no other job opportunities in cosmopolitan Mumbai, or adolescent opium users in the alleys of Kabul. Irrespective of the different contexts where sex work by males (and transgender people) occurs, what is common is the considerable marginalization they face from stigma at multiple levels—related to sex between men, sex work, gender identity and, in some cases HIV/AIDS and Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs).
Many men enter sex work with little or no knowledge of safe sexual practices (e.g., consistent and correct use of condoms, using lubricants, trying alternative non-penetrative sex), thus increasing their risk to contracting HIV and STIs. Hassan was fortunate to receive the right interventions at the right time. Not everyone is that lucky. Homophobia, stigma and discrimination, and criminalization of same-sex behavior (and sex work) in many South Asian countries obstruct their access to sexual and reproductive health and HIV information, services and support. “Why would men need sexual and reproductive health rights anyway?” you may ask. Well, that’s because sexual rights are human rights and everyone—regardless of gender, sex, sexuality, or HIV status—has those rights. Most health facilities in South Asia cater to women’s reproductive health and grossly overlook the reality that improving the sexual and reproductive health of men will have a significant effect on those of their sexual partners. Many male sex workers also have wives or female partners whom they put at greater risk for HIV/STIs if they are themselves unaware of safe sexual practices or are HIV positive. If empowered with access to such services, these men can contribute to reducing mother-to-child transmission of HIV.
You may have noticed that I have used the term “sex work” rather than “prostitution”, which is a highly disempowering terminology. “Sex work”, preferred in the HIV/AIDS discourse, is more laden with a rights based approach where the business of selling sex is a kind of work just like any other. Since reducing the demand side of sex work has proven to be an impractical and insurmountable task the world over, the most pragmatic and human rights based thing to do is to ensure that those providing such services are doing it safely, both for themselves and those they serve. As one transgender sex worker from Malaysia put it at an Asia-Pacific regional conference of HIV/AIDS, “Don’t tell me to quit my work and weave baskets or learn to sew. Tell me what kind of health services are available for me and people like me. Teach me to be healthy.”
(The author is a psychologist and HIV/AIDS professional, based in Kathmandu and working in South Asia)
Posted on: 2010-07-06 08:33
Headlines
Advertisements
