whores and other women

~ poonam

on this international women’s day, many bloggers wrote on street harassment in cities of india. i read a few of those posts - were well-written, thoughtful, angry and overall truthful, all derived from experience. in fact, this blog – polioman came into being because i, during one such event lost my cool and lashed out at the wrong guy completely. it was a mistake, but that’s the past now.

being groped and touched or even looked at by a complete stranger and most often the dirtiest of the lot, can make one feel all kinds of unpleasant feelings. raped, even. i know, i know, this may sound rhetoric, and frankly, it is. but only if you negate what one feels at that precise moment when a hand emerges from nowhere and touches you. *you*, you know.
this is important.

now let’s look at it this way. so a hand touched you, without you expecting the touch or permitting it. big deal! so that hand used you to derive pleasure for its person. so what? can you not tolerate an extremely short-lived touch? you felt humiliated for like couple of seconds before you made a dash for the train which was already stopping at the platform? or didn’t you go back to talking on the phone? or resumed shopping with the same fervour as before the event? so what the hell are we talking about? where does this pain and humiliation come from and more importantly where does it vanish?

now i for one, don’t know. but i do know that women have bigger issues than worry about high-on-libido jerk offs prying the streets. and this post is not about those women at all. this post is about women who deal with something similar, only the issue is greater, amplified like a thousand times. worse still, not only does it not come unexpected but it is packaged and presented as life. take it, unwrap it, feel happy about it, live with it or die. and it certainly is not just a hand anymore.

i don’t know what fascinates me about sex workers but something does. i suspect it’s the question: what goes on in their minds when men –all types, all sizes, climb over them and vent their frustrations while inside them. what goes on in their minds when at the end of this, they receive a measly sum, a fee for pleasure? what goes on in their minds when they give birth to a child without really knowing who the father might be? what goes on in their minds when their pimps undersell them, when their lovers ditch them, when their families live off them? what goes on their minds when there is dread all around? aids, and then there are the police. the illegal status to the profession, lack of basic facilities, unhygienic conditions, more competition. more unfortunate minors trafficked and made to lure customers who pay more for fresh, inexperienced maal. more stories of deceitful lovers, greedy families, poverty and squalor. and then their own stories which only know how to get drearier and darker.

now i read stories of some of these women who have faced it all with remarkable tenacity, they are averse to self-pity, they value self-respect, claim to have entered the profession by choice. they look at it as a job someone’s got to do. someone’s got to keep those friggin’ street harassers from going beyond groping and touching on the sly. think about it, these women might be doing a service to other women. to women like us, who can raise hell upon, dare i say, a mere touch. these may be the women who are keeping the men at bay. if you think this idea is crazy then maybe it is. but it doesn’t harm to think of it in absolute terms. 40-50-60 bucks for a fuck is as good a deal as it can get. and there is no real compulsion to wear a condom too. groping and touching on the sly can land a man in trouble, if the woman decides to hang up her call or stop shopping and come after him. but in a red light area, he can haggle and pay less to be loved in the way he likes, might be lucky enough to get away without paying at all. he is the customer and he is the king. in our world, he’s a parasite who has no right to live, let alone move freely on the streets doing as he wishes. really how can one stranger mean two diversely different things to two women for the same act?

an american author camille pagila has said, “the prostitute is not, as feminists claim, the victim of men but rather their conqueror, an outlaw who controls the sexual channel between nature and culture.” this is the crazy idea, spoken earlier, but the quote may not be completely true. the prostitute here is victimized every day and not necessarily by her customer alone. the law is a great contributor too. the illegal status to such a thriving industry really makes things worse than they ought to be. rough them, arrest them, file complaint, take bribe and release - this is possibly a weekly agenda for the local police.

physical abuse aside, the verbal insults are a way of life. on my recent fleeting visit to kamathipura, the cabbie who doubled up as our guide, pointed out to many ‘60 rupees’ women. i have come to believe that’s how they are slotted. reminds me of that song by john lennon: woman, she is the nigger of the world.

having said all this, i don’t know where am i going with this post or what am i trying to achieve. i don’t have ideas or solutions to offer. i just know that not acknowledging commercial sex workers as an important part of our society may not be a great idea. they are there for a purpose.