Rotis, TGs and Hospitality

As the semester winds down, I want to ensure I’ve made the most of my experience here and the opportunities available to me.  I told my internship I want to spend more time in the field to really understand the day-to-day lives of women in sex work.  Today, I went with one of the women who makes rotis (similar to a large tortilla) and sells them in the area during lunchtime.  We walked around for about an hour through all the different lanes going in and out of brothels, knocking on people’s doors and asking if they wanted rotis today.  I was with two women—one who collected the money and another who had a big pot on her head full of rotis and newspaper.  When an order was placed, the pot would come down, the rotis would be counted, and then they’d wrap them in a piece of newspaper and hand them over to the customer.

This visit was a lot more in-my-face than previous ones.  First, the smell was putrid.  I actually thought I might vomit a few times, and I’m saying that with the utmost respect for these women.  I really don’t know how they live in these conditions.  I was constantly stepping around unidentifiable waste on the ground and I could barely see where I was going in some of the staircases and hallways.  I can’t even explain the set up of the area properly.  It’s a like a blend between a slum, the ruins of a castle (broken down stone) and a treehouse here and there (layers of housing in disjointed levels).  That probably makes no sense, but it’s the best I can do to explain it.  Most of the rooms look the same with either cubby-like benches around the walls to sit on or the ‘compartments’ and lofts where the mattresses are.  I came across a lot more men in this visit as well, since we were going in and out and walking around the entire area, whereas the first visit I just walked down one lane and visited two specific brothels.  My visit was a lot less censored this time.  I could feel the men surrounding me, their gaze piercing my comfort zone, making me want to run and hide in my mommy’s arms and never come back out.  But no, I kept my head down, stayed glued to the roti seller’s side, and refocused on other things.

A huge comfort to me when I go in is the hospitality and curiosity I receive from the women and girls.  Of course they’re all wondering who the strange white girl is as I follow the other women around wearing Indian clothing even though I’m from the West.  On the other hand, I’ve had several experiences here that make me question just how “white” I really am.  On numerous occasions, I’ve had people tell me I look like a Bollywood actress, I look Arab, I look “brown” etc.  It’s been quite confusing for me.  Anyways, there were two groups of women today with whom I felt particularly happy.  The first group was in a brothel above a restaurant so it was quite warm from the kitchen but I could smell the delicious food being made.  The women kept offering me water or a cold drink and were wondering how I liked India and what I thought of the area.  The best I can do is say I love spending time with them and I want to learn about their lives.

I am always invited to sit down and chat, often with the offer of a cold beverage.  The second group I enjoyed spending time with today was sitting outside of the brothel on a little ledge of a bench.  Again, they wanted to know why I was there, when I was leaving, how much my flight cost to get to America, how long the flight was, and when I’d be returning to India.  I better return soon, one of the women said.  They were really funny.  The one who told me to come back soon was very talkative, telling me I’d look good with a nose ring and that I looked very pretty and delicate.  She was the one who told me I looked like a Bollywood actress.  They all found it very amusing that I was wearing bangles and we talked about the exchange of cultures.  They thought it was interesting that the West was obsessed with yoga and meditation and wearing bangles, for example, while on the other hand Indians are dressing more Western etc.  I also met a transgender (TG) sex worker.  She was very nice and spoke a little bit of English so we were able to communicate without an interpreter.  She was wearing a tight yellow t-shirt and jeans and because she had had breast injections it was hard to tell immediately that she was transgender.  We were actually in the TG lane of the red light area, so there were many TGs there, as well as women and customers, but I only really spoke with this one.

While I was talking with one of the TGs she stopped suddenly and walked towards a group of her peers.  I had been ignoring a man standing nearby who had been staring at me for some time.  The TG I was talking with went to her peers, gathered a group, brought the man over to me, made him stand in front of me, and yelled at him for several minutes.  How dare you look at her like that, she is our guest, you have no right to disrespect her like that, you should be ashamed of yourself, you have no business looking at her, etc. etc.  This is a weak translation after the fact from my interpreter of course, but that was the gist of it.  It was incredible.  I have never been so humbled.  A group of complete strangers went completely out of their way to protect me and my honor.  I was speechless, unable to express my gratitude.

Once we finished our laps around the area with the rotis, we went to sit on a little bench in one of the busier parts of the area to sell the remaining ones before heading back to the office.  I saw a handful of women who I had interviewed previously and we said hi to each other.  Although the environment itself felt a little more intolerable this time around, I always enjoy interacting with the women and gaining a better understanding of their everyday lives.  I wish I had more time left, but for now I will try to learn what I can in my last few days with them.