Maharashtra polls: Mumbai’s sex workers rue being cast aside by parties

MUMBAI: Much has been said about the Mahayuti’s bid to win over approximately 4.6 crore women voters in the state by replicating Madhya Pradesh’s Ladli Behna scheme in the Mukhyamantri Majhi Ladki Bahin Yojana. While many women from economically impoverished sections have reportedly benefited from this enterprise, what has gone unremarked is that 30,000 female sex workers (FSW) in the state, living in peripheral ghettos, have escaped the political imagination.
There is a dichotomy in selling sex – while it brings empowerment and agency if categorised as work-labour, it also increases stigmatisation, discrimination, and limits their access to legal protections. These twin opposing trends create and sustain inequalities – upheld in the labour market and deepened by the political disenfranchisement of women in sex work, which hinders their rights and excludes them from demanding fair labour conditions, healthcare and protection against exploitation.
Ethnographic study of Kamathipura, Mumbai’s infamous red-light district, makes it evident that voices of women in sex work remain negligible in electoral processes. Merely giving female sex workers access to voter identification cards is far from adequate. Despite the Supreme Court’s May 2022 judgement that recognised sex work as a profession, a large number of Kamathipura’s women cannot vote due to lack of documentation, failure of institutions to enlist their participation and opposition from residents who see sex workers’ assertion to vote as upsetting prevalent power structure.
My study found the most telling narratives from these women were of neglect by political parties and leaders who consider them irrelevant, except on polling days.
Reshu, 40, having lived two decades in Kamathipura, recently got a voter identification card. Although she expressed the joy at the prospect of queuing up for the first time, she was convinced the vote wouldn’t make any change to her everyday experiences. She has come to accept that ‘destiny’ for women ‘like her’, is to fend for themselves. Vandu, 36, who also has a voter identification card now, wasn’t interested in voting. She said no political leader has ever come to interact with them during campaigning; the few who moved around the vicinity of the brothels’ streets never stepped in to understand their living conditions or address their grievances. Her refrain was simple – “if they don’t support us, why should we support them”.
Chanda, 53, narrated that women from the community revere power having faced powerlessness in so many ways throughout their lives. They want to be a part of elections and want elections to also make them a part of its processes and outcomes. She further added that many of Kamathipura’s FSWs are aged now, without any work, and forced to beg outside temples and mosques.
Kamthipura’s women face a gamut of issues – threats of re-development and silencing of their voices and demands; stigma and taboo both from residents and authorities that keep them at bay; absence of medical facilities, regularised income, dignified housing, and education for their children. These are exacerbated by violence perpetrated by customers, gharwalis (pimps) and brother keepers/ managers. Field interviews enumerated each of these in gripping detail.
For instance, Pinky, 50, originally from Karnataka, has spent most of her life in Kamathipura and witnessed many elections – none of which have made any difference to her life. Kamathipura redevelopment plan has made matters worse for them, she said, considering the authorities’ ‘guiding principle’ centres around removing the women from Kamathipura. While opinions of resident families have been heard, the sex workers have been invisibilised – the subtext is that owners of building complexes have the capacity to evict them at some point, leading to their displacement and loss of livelihood.
Sori, 52, said, when one of the brothels caught fire in September, women were forced to live on the streets. Despite repeated calls for help, no political party or public representative offered help. These instances have instilled disillusionment in them towards the state.
This scenario has compelled FSWs to relocate to other areas, including far-flung suburbs, such as Kalyan, Vashi, Bhandup and Turbhe naka, said Kusum, 28. They often operate from underground where no civil society organisations can reach them – resultantly, many have lost access to services like free condoms and security, making them more vulnerable to HIV, increased violence and stigmatisation.
Munni, 32, added, the dying of Kamathipura which for long has been their workplace, while mushrooming of newer prostitution pockets, has meant their lives and work have become more precarious; most struggle to find work and often agree to even painful and violent sex. Soni, 34, added, to cope with rising expenses and the need to earn more, customers agree to pay extra if the women do not insist on condoms. Sapna, 43, said, no political party of leader has ever spoken about these grave issues during elections or otherwise. FSWs, therefore, feel unrepresented, with no hope in participating in elections.
These are some of the many challenges highlighted in my study of Kamathipura, pointing towards substantive lapses in India’s democratic narrative. Without political representation, policies that could decriminalise their work, fair wages, and alternative employment opportunities remain unaddressed. The absence of political rights further entrenches social stigma, limiting sex workers’ ability to access broader economic opportunities and perpetuating cycles of poverty and marginalisation in the labour market. There is an urgent need to remedy this situation – electoral representation and participation are a critical place to start with.
Names of FSWs have been changed to protect their identities. Dr Khushboo Srivastava is assistant professor at Centre for Electoral Management Studies, TISS, Mumbai