Addressing the Perils of Sex Work - theHumm September 2020

By — Susan Fisher

When I first began supporting Willow’s, a struggling Vanier drop-in centre for sex trade workers, I wanted to help others who needed a hand. I had no clue this would lead me to a series of crash courses on Canadian law, community safety, human rights, and harm reduction strategies for the most vulnerable of our citizens. I also learned the distinction between sex work (voluntary) and trafficking (forced), both of which are happening in all corners of Lanark County. This is not a big city problem. It concerns us all.

Jennifer, a Willow’s volunteer, became a dancer in a strip club at 14 — a runaway from a home of violence and drugs. For 15 years, she says, “I made tons of money. Men would buy me anything.” Cocaine was plentiful too. At 29 and considered too old for exotic dancing, Jennifer could not make ends meet, so the only recourse was to sell sex. “I made $40 a blow job and $100 for full sex,” she says, “and I thanked God for the work.” In 2013 she nearly died from an attack. The man was jailed. “I was lucky,” she says. “I had a witness — but many women don’t.”

Willow’s co-facilitator, Kristen Gilchrist-Salles, says that clearly the centre is a band-aid solution for a festering wound, “but it’s all these women have got.” Since 2019, Willow’s has provided the most basic of needs to sex trade workers, many of whom are homeless and addicted. Many come from small Ottawa Valley towns.

Erin Lee, Executive Director of Lanark County Interval House, confirms this. The Carleton Place shelter regularly supports sex workers from every corner of the county. Some have chosen the trade, others have been forced into it as a last resort. “All are treated here as equals and with respect,” Lee says. “We plan how best to keep them safe.”

Before COVID-19, Willow’s offered nursing care, free clothing, toiletries, crises intervention, phone and internet access, bus passes, a message board, safe injection gear, condoms, and a hot meal once a week. Also washrooms — which loom high on the priority list for disadvantaged folks. Shelters can be chaotic, “where what little they have is stolen,” says Gilchrist-Salles. In summer, some women sleep in fields or hallways. Often, “five or six of them share a motel room until they are kicked out”. Some carry their possessions in a backpack, and have no cash for a laundromat or toothbrush, let alone a meal.

At Willow’s, “there are no strings attached,” says Gilchrist-Salles. “They are loved unconditionally here, and they are safe. They are not expected to change, and can talk openly about what is going on in their lives. We meet them where they are and do everything we can to support them.”

COVID’s arrival forced Willow’s to close temporarily. Gilchrist-Salles does what she can to meet with clients to hand them toiletries, gift cards or bus passes. But many of the women have vanished in their exhausting search for a safe place and something to eat. “I feel so guilty about not being there for them — I miss them a lot and worry about them.”

Canadian sex workers face perilous conditions where muddled laws state that selling sex is legal, but buying it or advertising it are not. Gilchrist-Salles explains: “they have two seconds to assess whether it’s safe to get in a car or go behind a dumpster with a stranger.”

According to POWER (Prostitutes of Ottawa-Gatineau Work, Educate, Resist), when sex work is criminalized, “the industry is driven underground where workers have little control.” They are prohibited from creating safe environments, working with others who could screen clients, “or even negotiating services they will provide.” The result is “vulnerability to violence, abuse, stigma and other harms,” or horrors like the Robert Picton case.

POWER says decriminalization “is the best way to ensure the health and safety of sex workers and communities overall.” In New Zealand, where sex work was legalized in 2003, rather than fearing the justice system, workers can call on it if necessary. They can receive customers in secure locations, can oblige clients to use condoms, and can “draw on labour law to negotiate working conditions.”

Willow’s intends to reopen this fall with restrictions, says Gilchrist-Salles. For one, “Food will probably be ‘to go’, rather than sharing a hot meal together,” and participants will be limited.

Meanwhile, donations are desperately needed for groups such as Willow’s, POWER and Lanark County Interval House. (POWER strives to repeal government legislation that criminalizes sex work, as well as educate the public.)

E-transfers can be sent to Willow’s familiesofsistersinspirit@gmail.com ; Lanark County Interval House jennifer.greaves@lcih.com or POWER powerottawa@gmail.com .

Lynn Melbourne — A Gift for People - theHumm September 2020

By Sally Hansen

Art… and Soul

Re-gifting is frowned on in some circles, but when your gift is a talent for capturing the character, the strength and the internal beauty that people wear on their faces, sharing that gift becomes an act of kindness, empathy and generosity. When tragedy struck in March at Almonte Country Haven, a long-term care home with 82 residents, local portrait artist Lynn Melbourne used her talent to reach out to the devastated residents, their families and their caretakers.

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Addressing the Perils of Sex Work - theHumm September 2020