Protecting sex workers from violence
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
Usha Revelli from Rajahmundry, India
BHAVANI, a sex worker, is found lying unconscious on National Highway 5. Her shoulder is broken and her body slashed with a blade all over. She was gang-raped. A worker at the nearby petrol station reported that she has been pushed off a moving lorry. It is not clear whether she was pushed or raped first because her broken arm is twisted in an awkward angle. This incident took place a mere 20 kilometres away from Rajahmundry, one of the most populous and vibrant towns in the east Godavari district of Andhra Pradesh. Ironically, Rajahmundry is known for social reforms pertaining to child marriage and widow re-marriage.
Saroja, another sex worker, was taking a stroll outside her home on a balmy night when a solitary constable arrives on the scene. He drags her to the police station, ignoring her pleas to let her change into decent clothes and refusing to answer any question. She is beaten black and blue. This is in Kakinada, a port town, about 60 kilometres away from Rajahmundry. Kakinada was the venue of All India Congress Session in 1923.
A third woman was taken by a client to a patch of woods and was robbed and raped by him and his two friends. She was then left alone to grope her way out of the pitch-dark woods.
Ill-health, the risk of Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs) and HIV, discrimination, lack of family support and economic deprivation are not the only demons that sex workers face throughout their lives. Violence is a shadow that looms large. It comes from many quarters: clients, perverts, the police, temporary husbands, lovers, robbers and strangers. Few women in the profession can escape violence.
Yet, until recently there wasn't really anywhere they could go to seek redress since law-enforcers usually make up a large percentage of the perpetrators.
There are some 1,700 sex workers (SWs) of Rajahmundry, under the Saksham project of Care India, an NGO. It was always the Demonstration Officer or Field Officer who rushed to their rescue whenever there was a crisis of this kind. But those associated with the project for building capacities of the community made it clear that their intervention was only temporary. An urgent need for a self-regulatory protection mechanism was felt. This led to the formation of the Crisis Intervention Team (CIT), which came to the rescue of the women in all such situations.
The mandate of the CIT is simple. "No sex worker should suffer. No one should get away with violence against our community. Action within 24 hours. Spare no one.
And teach the sex workers to confidently report - this is our objective," explains Manasa Gopisetty, 34, an Outreach Worker with the Saksharn project and a member of the CIT.
The Saksham project has 12 community-based organisations (CBOs) under it, such as Arunodaya Mahila Sangham, Chaitanya Mahila Sangham and Vanitha Samkshema Mahila Sangham, in the district.
The CIT operates in four CBOs, with the central CIT in Rajahmundry having representatives from all 12 CBOs, along with two coordinators and two convenors. The team holds monthly meetings, which are attended by all the representatives. The central CIT usually responds to all incidents across the district.
At the district level, CIT evolved into the District Self-Regulatory Board (SRB), with 60 per cent representation from the community and the remaining from district officials. The collector is the chairman of the SRB and the president of the district level CBO, Godavari Mahila Samakhya, is the convenor. East Godavari district's SRB is the second of its kind in India, after Sonagachi, in West Bengal.
Kakurthi Kondamma, in her 50s, from Chintala Namavaram, a satellite township outside Rajahmundry was once paraded at the police station. Officials hung a slate bearing the words 'I am a bad woman' around her neck and took her photographs. "They kicked me in my stomach, dragged me by the hair and whipped me on my thighs. And there was no one to stop them. I just went home bleeding and crying," Kondamma recalls. Not unexpectedly, this former president of Nari Saksham now plays a pivotal role in CIT. (Nari Saksham is the apex CBO, set up under the Saksham project. Eventually, it is Nari Saksham that coordinates between the CBOs.)
The team acts with lightning speed. Once, when Gopisetty got a call at midnight that a sex worker was detained at the Rajahmundry town police station, she rushed there on her two-wheeler. "I wore jeans and shirt, wrapped a scarf around my head to conceal the fact that I am a woman and zoomed to help her," she recalls.
Many are the achievements of the team. Padma Aliginti, 45, coordinator of CIT, recalls an incident when a sex worker, Seetha, was picked up from Annapurnapet village and taken to the police station in the middle of the night. Seetha did not keep quiet but asked questions about why she was held without a woman constable around. Yet, a constable heckled her for hours and finally let her go after taking Rs 300 (US$ 1=RS 40). "Wait, I'll see your end," was Seetha's threat to the cops before she left the station," the team recalls with a chuckle.
The next day, the Sub Inspector (SI) cowered in his seat when CIT members fired a volley of questions at him: details of detention, the sections they had booked Seetha under, and the absence of a woman cop at the time of questioning. A panicky SI called the constable in question, made him apologise and even return the money. He also swore to never let such an incident happen again under his watch.
While assertiveness is an effective tool in CIT's kitty, it is not their only approach. They try gentle advocacy, too. They have organised district-wide workshops for policemen and interactive sessions with officials that are held throughout the year. However, interaction at the police station level happens frequently. The response to these workshops has been positive. Though there are arguments and counters, the CIT has managed to establish a clear understanding between the sex workers and the cops.
The lawyers based in Rajahmuundy, who help the Saksharn Project, assist them in filing cases properly: six medico-legal cases were filed against cops and lumpen elements since the time CIT started functioning. The team also has orientation workshops on the legal aspects related to their profession. Health cards issued under Saksharn have the mobile numbers of CIT members. Help for even the highway sex workers is now just a call away.
But it is not just the highway sex workers who are at risk. In Seshagiriraopet in Dowleswaram, a suburban town, sex workers operating from brothels have undergone days of trauma. Sex workers, Chinni and Radha, in their mid-40s, are among the first rung leaders of the Saksharn project. Chinni recalls a time when she was forcibly taken to jail. "The SI of the area had dragged me by my hair from my hut to the lock up." But as a CBO leader, she invited the same SI as chief guest to their Republic Day function. "He had to share a dais with me," she recalls happily.
"Everyone goes against you -- cops, colleagues, neighbours, lovers, brokers, temporary husbands. Even one's own children. That is why, I chose to find unity with women whose destinies match mine," says Chinni.
The CIT is not just an equivalent of a police patrol or an ambulance service. It goes beyond mere rescue. It has created a sense of security among sex workers. For those whose scars are deeper than those inflicted on the body, the CIT is the force that broke the circle of violence they routinely faced. It is the family that stands by them through thick and thin.
Courtesy: Women's Feature Service, NewsNetwork
BHAVANI, a sex worker, is found lying unconscious on National Highway 5. Her shoulder is broken and her body slashed with a blade all over. She was gang-raped. A worker at the nearby petrol station reported that she has been pushed off a moving lorry. It is not clear whether she was pushed or raped first because her broken arm is twisted in an awkward angle. This incident took place a mere 20 kilometres away from Rajahmundry, one of the most populous and vibrant towns in the east Godavari district of Andhra Pradesh. Ironically, Rajahmundry is known for social reforms pertaining to child marriage and widow re-marriage.
Saroja, another sex worker, was taking a stroll outside her home on a balmy night when a solitary constable arrives on the scene. He drags her to the police station, ignoring her pleas to let her change into decent clothes and refusing to answer any question. She is beaten black and blue. This is in Kakinada, a port town, about 60 kilometres away from Rajahmundry. Kakinada was the venue of All India Congress Session in 1923.
A third woman was taken by a client to a patch of woods and was robbed and raped by him and his two friends. She was then left alone to grope her way out of the pitch-dark woods.
Ill-health, the risk of Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs) and HIV, discrimination, lack of family support and economic deprivation are not the only demons that sex workers face throughout their lives. Violence is a shadow that looms large. It comes from many quarters: clients, perverts, the police, temporary husbands, lovers, robbers and strangers. Few women in the profession can escape violence.
Yet, until recently there wasn't really anywhere they could go to seek redress since law-enforcers usually make up a large percentage of the perpetrators.
There are some 1,700 sex workers (SWs) of Rajahmundry, under the Saksham project of Care India, an NGO. It was always the Demonstration Officer or Field Officer who rushed to their rescue whenever there was a crisis of this kind. But those associated with the project for building capacities of the community made it clear that their intervention was only temporary. An urgent need for a self-regulatory protection mechanism was felt. This led to the formation of the Crisis Intervention Team (CIT), which came to the rescue of the women in all such situations.
The mandate of the CIT is simple. "No sex worker should suffer. No one should get away with violence against our community. Action within 24 hours. Spare no one.
And teach the sex workers to confidently report - this is our objective," explains Manasa Gopisetty, 34, an Outreach Worker with the Saksharn project and a member of the CIT.
The Saksham project has 12 community-based organisations (CBOs) under it, such as Arunodaya Mahila Sangham, Chaitanya Mahila Sangham and Vanitha Samkshema Mahila Sangham, in the district.
The CIT operates in four CBOs, with the central CIT in Rajahmundry having representatives from all 12 CBOs, along with two coordinators and two convenors. The team holds monthly meetings, which are attended by all the representatives. The central CIT usually responds to all incidents across the district.
At the district level, CIT evolved into the District Self-Regulatory Board (SRB), with 60 per cent representation from the community and the remaining from district officials. The collector is the chairman of the SRB and the president of the district level CBO, Godavari Mahila Samakhya, is the convenor. East Godavari district's SRB is the second of its kind in India, after Sonagachi, in West Bengal.
Kakurthi Kondamma, in her 50s, from Chintala Namavaram, a satellite township outside Rajahmundry was once paraded at the police station. Officials hung a slate bearing the words 'I am a bad woman' around her neck and took her photographs. "They kicked me in my stomach, dragged me by the hair and whipped me on my thighs. And there was no one to stop them. I just went home bleeding and crying," Kondamma recalls. Not unexpectedly, this former president of Nari Saksham now plays a pivotal role in CIT. (Nari Saksham is the apex CBO, set up under the Saksham project. Eventually, it is Nari Saksham that coordinates between the CBOs.)
The team acts with lightning speed. Once, when Gopisetty got a call at midnight that a sex worker was detained at the Rajahmundry town police station, she rushed there on her two-wheeler. "I wore jeans and shirt, wrapped a scarf around my head to conceal the fact that I am a woman and zoomed to help her," she recalls.
Many are the achievements of the team. Padma Aliginti, 45, coordinator of CIT, recalls an incident when a sex worker, Seetha, was picked up from Annapurnapet village and taken to the police station in the middle of the night. Seetha did not keep quiet but asked questions about why she was held without a woman constable around. Yet, a constable heckled her for hours and finally let her go after taking Rs 300 (US$ 1=RS 40). "Wait, I'll see your end," was Seetha's threat to the cops before she left the station," the team recalls with a chuckle.
The next day, the Sub Inspector (SI) cowered in his seat when CIT members fired a volley of questions at him: details of detention, the sections they had booked Seetha under, and the absence of a woman cop at the time of questioning. A panicky SI called the constable in question, made him apologise and even return the money. He also swore to never let such an incident happen again under his watch.
While assertiveness is an effective tool in CIT's kitty, it is not their only approach. They try gentle advocacy, too. They have organised district-wide workshops for policemen and interactive sessions with officials that are held throughout the year. However, interaction at the police station level happens frequently. The response to these workshops has been positive. Though there are arguments and counters, the CIT has managed to establish a clear understanding between the sex workers and the cops.
The lawyers based in Rajahmuundy, who help the Saksharn Project, assist them in filing cases properly: six medico-legal cases were filed against cops and lumpen elements since the time CIT started functioning. The team also has orientation workshops on the legal aspects related to their profession. Health cards issued under Saksharn have the mobile numbers of CIT members. Help for even the highway sex workers is now just a call away.
But it is not just the highway sex workers who are at risk. In Seshagiriraopet in Dowleswaram, a suburban town, sex workers operating from brothels have undergone days of trauma. Sex workers, Chinni and Radha, in their mid-40s, are among the first rung leaders of the Saksharn project. Chinni recalls a time when she was forcibly taken to jail. "The SI of the area had dragged me by my hair from my hut to the lock up." But as a CBO leader, she invited the same SI as chief guest to their Republic Day function. "He had to share a dais with me," she recalls happily.
"Everyone goes against you -- cops, colleagues, neighbours, lovers, brokers, temporary husbands. Even one's own children. That is why, I chose to find unity with women whose destinies match mine," says Chinni.
The CIT is not just an equivalent of a police patrol or an ambulance service. It goes beyond mere rescue. It has created a sense of security among sex workers. For those whose scars are deeper than those inflicted on the body, the CIT is the force that broke the circle of violence they routinely faced. It is the family that stands by them through thick and thin.
Courtesy: Women's Feature Service, NewsNetwork