NZ sex industry under attack
Sex workers in New Zealand remain victims of abuse and violence according to British author, writes Thomas Manch.
Prostitutes raised red umbrellas in celebration of New Zealand Prostitutes’ Collective entering its third decade on Thursday. Speeches were made, and stories shared among a crowd of a hundred at Wellington’s Southern Cross bar, before the umbrellas – a symbol of sex work – were lifted for a photo opportunity.
But a new book, highly critical of the New Zealand Prostitutes’ Collective (NZPC), issued a warning to the world this week: the New Zealand model is ‘‘as useful as a burst condom’’.
The Pimping of Prostitution: Abolishing the Sex Work Myth, released in New Zealand on October 11, describes an abusive industry left unchecked by absent government agencies.
Author Julie Bindel, a combative radical feminist from England, and former New Zealand sex worker Sabrinna Valisce have been making international headlines with their scathing critique and tales of abuse.
Speaking from Bergen, Norway, the morning after a book launch, Bindel says her work is a grassroots, investigative expose of legitimised sex work around the world.
A prostitution abolitionist, she uses words unlike those used in New Zealand’s sex industry.
It’s not sex workers or prostitutes; it’s ‘‘prostituted women’’. Brothel owners are pimps or abusers, no bones about it. Johns or sex buyers aren’t always punters; they’re also abusers.
And the service provided by women in the sex industry is spoken of in violent terms.
‘‘Sex for a woman, when you don’t want it – in any orifice – is a horrible experience, even when we’re not describing it as rape. Calling it work, and doing it over and over again in one day, is a form of torture.’’
In researching the book, Bindel visited New Zealand in April 2016 and spoke to eight sex workers, two in brothels and four on the street.
The book recounts the stories of five; Nicky, unwillingly penetrated with a bottle; Ne’Cole, gang-raped while working the street at 15 years old; Chelsea, who describes brothel owners as abusive pimps; Lisa, a 50-something street worker using a walking frame, disabled after a life in prostitution; and Sabrinna Valisce.
Bindel takes particular issue with the application form for opening a brothel in New Zealand, said to be just two pages long (it’s actually three) and shorter than the adoption form at the Battersea Dogs and Cats Home in London.
And when the brothels open, no-one checks them. Official Information Act data referenced in the book, but not provided, shows only 23 brothel inspections took place between the 2003 reform and January 2015.
‘‘The framework for regulation does exist, as we shall see, but it’s about as useful as a burst condom,’’ she writes.
Among the failures of the New Zealand system in removing abuse, exploitation and trafficking, she lists: convictions for under-age workers exploitation of foreign workers (a problem acknowledged within the industry), and a 2004 US State Department report that called New Zealand ‘‘a trafficking destination country’’.
Bindel advocates for the Nordic model, which criminalises brothels and sex buyers, but not prostitutes. It has been implemented in Norway, Sweden and France, where prostitutes are offered ‘‘a way out’’ through health services, she says.
‘‘There’s a possibility of a world without prostitution, prostitution does not have to exist, it benefits no-one but the abuser and the profiteers.’’
Valisce, who provides evidence in Bindel’s book, was in Edinburgh this month meeting Scottish MPs currently considering the Nordic model.
Valisce declined to share her personal experiences and horror stories as a sex worker in New Zealand.
This much is known from Bindel’s work: Valisce came to New Zealand at 14 years old and after being offered $100 for sex while wearing her school uniform one afternoon, she found herself on the streets selling sex to survive.
Decades of sex work and involvement with the NZPC followed, but Valisce recounts few positive changes from the legislation. After moving to Australia in 2011, she realised the horrors of the industry she had been subject to.
Valisce is now critical of the NZPC and says it will never be effective in removing abuse and exploitation. Bindel quotes sex worker Chelsea, who says the NZPC is in denial about an expanding industry and offers only ‘‘propaganda’’ in its information packs.
‘‘I never had someone say, ‘I paid for your body, and I can do what I want’, until decriminalisation. That’s putting power in the hands of the business pimps. You can see this across every brothel in New Zealand.’’
This is disputed by those in the industry, but there’s no disagreement about one thing: you can’t legislate away the stigma.
Sex industry sources like brothel owners and workers readily admit the legalised sex business isn’t without its problems.
Of the workers, there are tales of threats and violence, but there’s a point of difference. Before decriminalisation, the threat of violence would linger. Now, if you have a problem, the police are there to help.
Problems with drug addiction, illegal under-age and foreign sex workers, and bad operators are just that: problems. They’re not problems that just lie with this industry, and they’re for agencies such as Immigration New Zealand to deal with.
Brothel owners notice the lack of inspections and say more are warranted to weed out bad operators who bend the rules.
The industry has moved on since the 2003 reform rewrote the prostitution playbook, and according to some, it’s ready to evolve again.
Among the crowd of red umbrellas on Thursday evening was an example of a more evolved sex industry: a prostitute who successfully prosecuted a brothel owner. The case of Emma, who declined to give her real name, is possibly a world first. After moving to the
capital from Invercargill, the 22-year-old found work at The Kensington Inn; a brothel marked only by the letter ‘‘K’’ between two busy central Wellington streets.
She enjoyed the work but quickly found the owner, Aaron Montgomery, to be belittling. He began to dictate the way she dressed, and threatened and followed her.
As she became depressed, Emma watched Montgomery ply other workers with money and hard drugs, bragging about taking them downstairs to ‘‘have fun with them’’.
But she knew her rights and was involved with the NZPC, who encouraged her to take the matter to the Human Rights Review Tribunal.
On February 28, 2014, the tribunal awarded her $25,000 damages for emotional harm as a result of sexual harassment.
‘‘If people can learn from my case, it changes the stigma around sex work,’’ she says.
NZPC founder Catherine Healy says this prosecution is a true depiction of New Zealand’s legislation, not the ‘‘one or two malcontents’’ found by Bindel.
Healy was one of nine sex workers who started the collective in 1987 and has been fundamental in driving the country to decriminalisation.
The Prostitution Reform Act has proven to be a necessary framework for prostitutes, she says, allowing them to resolve employment disputes, report violence, talk to doctors – all while paying the bills.
‘‘Instead of it being focused on prosecution, it’s now focused on protection. It’s a massive difference.’’
By comparison, the Nordic model would intentionally build stigma to eliminate the industry’s evils.
‘‘How on earth does that help sex workers? In Sweden and Ireland where they have that model, the sex workers are frightened to make contact with the police because they think the police are going to stake their places out and arrest their clients.’’
University of Otago associate professor Gillian Abel, who has studied sex work in New Zealand for two decades, says Bindel denies women actively choose to do sex work.
For a 2007 study, Abel interviewed 772 sex workers from around the country and found 73 per cent worked for the money, 87 per cent regularly visited the doctor but only half announced their occupation, and 60 per cent thought the police cared for their safety.
‘‘Many spoke in in-depth interviews of the support . . . when it came to refusing to do certain clients.’’
Abel said barring migrant workers from the industry left them vulnerable, a potential flaw in the law.
But her main concern for sex workers is one well known outside the industry: the struggle to find affordable housing, particularly in Auckland.
‘‘I’ve never spoken to as many sex workers that are homeless.’’
Sex for a woman, when you don’t want it – in any orifice – is a horrible experience, even when we’re not describing it as rape. Calling it work, and doing it over and over again in one day, is a form of torture. Author Julie Bindel