Abstract
This article argues that strong policy frameworks are required to support the health and well-being of sex workers, disabled people, and disabled sex workers. Through an examination of the context of sex work in Canada, we articulate the flaws of sex work criminalization and the persistent barriers that criminalization creates. Our analysis of the intersection of disabled sexuality and access to sexual services identifies how the sex industry can aid in the flourishing of the erotic lives of disabled people. The article culminates in a discussion of the benefits of sex work decriminalization for sex workers, disabled people, and disabled sex workers. http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/09687599.2016.1139488 Accessing sex and facilitating sexual access Supporting sex worker’s rights and disability... Conclusion Disclosure statement . For disabled people, the shift away from an evidence-based approach in the Canadian context hits close to home. Despite claiming to operate in support of ‘victimized’ sex workers, the criminalization of clients employs many older stigmatizing conceptions of sex workers and the sex industry. It is here that some of the most significant potential connections between disability and sex work are evident. These links are most direct if we consider longer histories. In late-nineteenth-century and early-twentieth-century social hygiene and eugenics movements, for example, both prostitutes and disabled people were seen as key threats to social and racial ‘health’ (Heynen 2015 ). Whether defined in terms of the spread of disease or of genetic degeneration, these eugenic conceptions enabled state regulation of and violence towards disabled and sex working bodies. As studies have shown, eugenic legacies continue to remain operative in many respects, in relation to both sex work and disability (Shildrick 2007 ). These intimately shared histories of stigmatization, the repressive and non-evidence-based policies that have resulted, and the resistance movements of sex workers and disabled people that have risen in response provide the basis for understanding and building on the potential linkages between sex work and disability. In relation to sexuality, stigmatization has worked in different ways for sex workers and disabled people, with sex workers portrayed most often as hyper-sexualized and disabled people as asexual. Yet these divergent narratives come together in an interesting way when we look at the role of sex work in relation to disabled sexuality. Disabled people are typically cast by ableist culture as asexual, lacking sexual feelings and desires, or as sexually inadequate (Morris 1989 ; Shakespeare, Gillespie-Sells, and Davies 1996 ; Shuttleworth and Mona 2002 ; Rembis 2009 ). This is because the sexual practices of disabled people are often at odds with ableist and heteronormative approaches that position sex as only ‘penetrative, spontaneous, and physical – which requires fully-functioning, independent, [and] mobile’ embodiment (Liddiard 2013 , 18). The ableist and heteronormative practices of ‘normate sex’ (Wilkerson 2011 ) often result in the loss or absence of a sexual gaze directed at disabled people (Clare 1999 ), marking sexuality as a significant site of disabled peoples’ oppression and pain (Finger 1992 ).3 While disabled people are frequently denied their sexuality (Shakespeare 1999 ; Shakespeare, Gillespie-Sells, and Davies 1996 ; Tepper 2000 ; Waxman 1994 ), Robert McRuer and Anna Mollow (2012 , 32) – building on decades of disability activism and scholarship – suggest that disability ‘has the potential to transform sex, creating confusions about “what and who is sexy” and “what counts as sex”’. Indeed, disabled people have a long and rich history contesting ‘normate sex’. Key to these contestations has been the assertion that disabled people are both ‘desiring subjects and objects of desire’ (McRuer and Mollow 2012 , 1), so as to overcome the social, cultural, and political ways in which disabled people are repeatedly infantilized, de-sexualized, and de-eroticized. Such assertions are evident in the work of disability activists and scholars such as Mary Frances Platt (1996 ), Alexa Schriempf (2001 ), Loree Erickson (2007 ), the late Chris Bell (2012 ), Leroy Moore (2014 ), and many others. For some disabled people, finding comfortable methods to achieve sexual gratification can take time, effort, and support from others (Fritsch 2010 ; Kulick and Rydström 2015 ). Lack of tailored sex education, navigation of complex health care systems, and inadequate specialized health care practitioners all create additional barriers for disabled people to be situated (by themselves and others) as sexual subjects (Liddiard 2013 ). Two ways in which disabled people facing such constraints can receive support for, and fulfilment of, a diversity of sexual desires are through sexual surrogacy and sex work. Sexual surrogacy was first advanced by sex therapists Masters and Johnson in the 1970s to provide assistance with physical and emotional intimacy (Rosenbaum, Aloni, and Heruti 2013 ). Surrogates are intimacy coaches that work individually with clients to overcome obstacles in their sex lives. Sexual surrogates have recently received mainstream attention through the popularity of the Hollywood film The Sessions (2012 ), in which Mark O’Brien (played by John Hawkes), who as a child was paralysed by polio, hires a sex surrogate (played by Helen Hunt) to help him lose his virginity. The film was acclaimed for sharing O’Brien’s (1990 ) life story, and, as Shuttleworth (2014 , 80) affirms, ‘the proliferation of local and transnational media representation of the sexual lives of disabled people and importantly less stereotypical images certainly counters the long-standing cultural perception of their asexuality’. In practice, sex surrogacy was institutionalized in the Netherlands following a 2001 court challenge that led the state to fund surrogates for some disabled people (McRuer 2010 ). Similarly, Denmark has also taken a leading role in developing legal and policy frameworks to support the facilitation of the erotic lives of disabled people through sex surrogates, as noted in detail by Don Kulick and Jens Rydström (2015 ). Accessing sex through the use of a sex worker who provides specialized services to disabled clients is another way in which disabled (and non-disabled) people can affirm and express their sexuality. While research in this area is sparse, accounts such as those found in the documentary Scarlet Road: A Sex Worker’s Journey (2011) have begun to examine sex worker/disabled client relationships, and can help us think through the potentials of such experiences. Scarlet Road is an independent film that profiles Rachel Wotton, a sex worker based in New South Wales, Australia. Wotton’s belief that human touch and sexual intimacy are essential is the basis for her support of both sex worker rights and disability rights. She specializes in working with clients with disabilities and developed a non-profit organization called Touching Base,4 which fosters collaboration between clients with disabilities, sex workers, and support services (Wotten and Isbister 2010 ). Since 2000, Touching Base has acted as a conduit providing resources for disabled people to access sex workers as well as to train and provide information to sex workers who want to provide services to disabled clientele. It is crucial to note here that sex work in New South Wales has been decriminalized for decades, suggesting that such a context enables this work to be performed and discussed in open and productive ways.5 For many disabled people, especially those living in group homes, those who have very limited physical mobility, or those with significant intellectual disabilities, accessing their sexuality can require a diverse range of outlets and supports; sexual surrogacy and sex work are but two examples. In debates over the decriminalization of sex work, therefore, the impacts on disabled people as clients are generally the focus.6 However, disabled people are not only expressing their sexuality through the use of sex surrogates or as clients of sex workers, but also through labouring as sex workers themselves. There has been relatively little research in this area, in part due to the stigmatization of sex work itself, but there are examples and resources on which we can draw to begin this discussion. One such example is that of Canadian dominatrix Alissa Afonina, who argues, ‘as a disabled woman, sex work is a viable option … I needed a lot of money fast because I needed to cover bills and I can’t realistically work for eight hours’ (Simon 2015 , n.p.; see also Merlan 2015 ). For her, the sex industry has provided the necessary means of support, and while engaging in sex work might not be possible or desirable for others, those who do perform this type of labour should not face criminal sanctions. Determining the extent of the involvement of disabled people in the sex industry more broadly will require extensive new research. Some speculate that ‘a higher than average number of sex workers are also women with disabilities, many of whom may not self-identify’ (DAWN-RAFH 2014 ). Disability in this respect can take many forms, whether by way of pre-existing impairments or impairments that resulted from the conditions in which sex workers labour. In the latter instance, workplace violence, occupational hazards, and some sexual and other practices can increase the possibility of a variety of impairments or chronic illnesses. HIV/AIDS, for example, is often identified as an ‘episodic disability’ (Hanass-Hancock and Nixon 2009 ; O’Brien et al. 2008 ), and is the condition most often cited as affecting sex workers globally.7 While it is important to remain attentive to stigmatizing language and policy, it is also crucial to note the extent to which HIV rates, levels of violence, and other disabling workplace conditions are in fact fostered by the criminalization of sex work. Given that sex workers are predominantly women, they are disproportionately impacted by these conditions. Here we can clearly see the extent to which stigmatization and a refusal of evidence-based approaches provides a context within which both sex work and disability are configured as threatening in mutually reinforcing ways. Criminalization plays a key role here, as noted in the internationally acclaimed medical journal The Lancet, which dedicated a 2014 issue to insights into the ‘complex issues faced by sex workers worldwide’, and calls for the ‘decriminalization of sex work, in the global effort to tackle the HIV/AIDS epidemic’. UNAIDS, the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS, has likewise identified strong evidence that criminalization ‘increases vulnerability to HIV and other sexually transmitted infections’ and ‘stigma and discrimination, violence and punitive legal and social environments are key determinants’ of HIV vulnerability (UNAIDS 2014 , 193). Further, studies show that punitive criminal justice environments ‘limit the availability, access, and uptake of HIV prevention, treatment, care and support for sex workers and their clients’ (UNAIDS 2014 , 189). Thus, while disabled and non-disabled sex workers have a human right to health and sexual pleasure, this becomes jeopardized through the criminalization of sexual services (Chu and Healy 2014 ; Liddiard 2014 ). When accessing sexual services is a crime, sex worker autonomy and agency is rarely considered. This again provides an important point of contact with disability politics, as disabled people have similarly struggled to be recognized as having agency and autonomy. What was so significant about the Supreme Court of Canada’s decision to remove the criminal laws that prohibit adult, consensual sex work is that it drew precisely on evidence-based approaches in understanding the causes of dangers within the sex industry. The decriminalization of sex work can change the existing adversarial relationship that sex workers have with police and can improve their ability to access social health and legal protections (Gender and Sexual Health Initiative 2014 ). Municipal business regulations and standards for public behaviour still apply (van der Meulen and Valverde 2013 ), and the Criminal Code would still contain a plethora of sections that criminalize violence, assault, abduction, extortion, and more. However, in the Canadian case and globally, ideologically-driven approaches that advocate criminalization continue to be implemented despite the clear evidence showing that pushing sex work underground creates the unsafe environments that those very laws claim to be addressing (Hughes, MacDonnell, and Pearlston 2014 ; Jordan 2005 ). The dangers associated with the criminalization of clients are overwhelmingly reflected in international calls to decriminalize sex work (UNAIDS 2014 ). -- Avinash Shahi Doctoral student at Centre for Law and Governance JNU Register at the dedicated AccessIndia list for discussing accessibility of mobile phones / Tabs on: http://mail.accessindia.org.in/mailman/listinfo/mobile.accessindia_accessindia.org.in Search for old postings at: http://www.mail-archive.com/accessindia@accessindia.org.in/ To unsubscribe send a message to accessindia-requ...@accessindia.org.in with the subject unsubscribe. To change your subscription to digest mode or make any other changes, please visit the list home page at http://accessindia.org.in/mailman/listinfo/accessindia_accessindia.org.in Disclaimer: 1. Contents of the mails, factual, or otherwise, reflect the thinking of the person sending the mail and AI in no way relates itself to its veracity; 2. AI cannot be held liable for any commission/omission based on the mails sent through this mailing list..
