Ashley Judd, a well-known Hollywood actor and humanitarian, a Board Member of Population Services International (PSI) and a the Global Ambassador for YouthAIDS, will be writing posts for the ONE Blog during her March 2007 travels through India. During the trip, Ashley will address women’s issues, and have the opportunity to discover how families can be empowered to protect themselves against HIV/AIDS and unintended pregnancies.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

The great Dr. Shilpa, who runs our red-light district programs, and I arrived at our offices, which are small yet impeccable. The space is kept with such love and pride. The pin cushion boards detail our service work with darling, effective craft illustrations. The staff, all of whom are local, work with total dedication in extraordinarily challenging environments that would destroy the souls of the less faithful. Today was to be about visiting sex workers who cannot make it to the clinic, both due to how ill they are and because they are held in “karza,” the indentured servitude phase of sex slavery.

Dr. Singh, Deana and I went to Falkland Road brothel district. It is an exceedingly poor area, teeming with crummy buildings and masses eking by. We climbed the narrow, worn stairs of a brothel building and were greeted warmly by 13 commercial sex workers (CSWs) and their children, and I was made very welcomed into their bleak rooms. We sat huddled on the floor, while Dr. Singh used an anatomical form of the female reproductive system to provide an essential health lesson. I watched keenly, studying the CSWs’ faces as many of them for the first time, after years of being paid a dollar or less for sex, learned how their bodies work from a medical point of view. The form has a little hatch door on the abdomen which open to a view of the uterus, etc. They were attentive and asked questions, many of which revealed their ignorance.

The room itself was one of many. It was long and narrow, the 2 long walls lined with built in beds, head to toe, head to toe, 4 feet off the ground. A woman lives in each bed, as well as on the floor space below each bed. So at least 8 people, not even counting their children, live in each. They have strings laced tautly around the room to provide for hanging space, and they toss their few possessions on the strings, which also double as a way for make shift curtains of cut cotton to create drapes in between each bed as the clients stream in and out. The sex work is carried on regardless of whom else is in the room; other CSWs with their clients, children, the doctor when she is visiting. There is a common spigot on each floor, but the water is available from 4-6 a.m. only. The women fill pails during this time, in between clients. There is a squat toilet hole on each floor. They cook in their bed area with a tiny kerosene flame, which they refill from a government subsidized shop. There is electricity and each room has a ceiling fan. The window drew in air freely, as well as allowing the ringing cacophony of the streets to pour in.

As I write this, it sounds so utterly horrible, and yet while I was there, it felt normal. For my sisters there it is, and so it was for me. We visited at length and shared stories, hugs, and they reflected to me the things they learned from the doctor’s talk. The clear need for immediate empowerment of their reproductive health is urgent.

The suffering of one is the shame of us all.