I’m an activist and outreach worker for women in street-based prostitution. At night I patrol the streets with a volunteer giving out condoms, drinks, snacks, panic alarms and advice about keeping safe, including giving out alerts about violent punters. Most of the women know me and come to the car to have some safe company and a chat. None of the women want to be street-working. All of the women I encounter are there to fund their own and often a boyfriend’s addiction.
During the day I support the women around issues such as health, housing, experiences of violence, access to drug and alcohol services, and benefits. My work varies to match the needs of the women, whether that’s in court or in a café.
Growing up, I lived in a flat above a street where sex workers picked up their clients. I saw the women every day getting in and out of cars, looking so tired and sad. I don’t remember as a child feeling much. I was just very curious about what they were doing and how unsafe it all looked.
I’m not looking down from above any more. Now I know the women and it’s these personal relationships that drive my commitment and passion. I’m also motivated by the injustice I witness daily. Everything is more difficult – the drug and alcohol services we work closely with have had a 40% cut in resources in recent years. A few years ago you could ring up a detox centre and be admitted within days. Now the women have to wait months to get into detox or rehab. Most of the women give up.
Sometimes I feel how I imagine the women must feel, as I battle with authorities for their basic rights. They treat me like they treat the women; they just wish I’d go away and stop being a nuisance. Some women aren’t known to any services. No one cares about them. They are invisible. They have slipped through the gap. And the gap is increasingly wide these days.Many have run away from care or have been introduced by a boyfriend to drugs and prostitution.