"Memory, Alive and Clear": Excerpts from an interview with Nalini Jameela
Interviewed by J. Devika, translator.
J. Devika: "I am a sex worker among the intellectuals" -- that is how you described yourself recently, in response to a barbed comment that 'Nalini is now the intellectual among sex workers' -- is that a comment on your life after the publication of your autobiography in Malayalam?
Nalini Jameela: Well, my response was intended as a protest against a certain way of labeling that irritated me no end. If you remember, I had made a short film a while ago. What did many people say? 'A sex worker has made this film', or 'a village bumpkin has made this film', or 'an uneducated person…', and so on. It was not even 'a woman has made this film'! When they say that 'a sex worker has made this film', they try to define me only as a sex worker. This was my way of throwing their phrases back at them.
After the publication of my book (in Malayalam), I found that this sort of labeling became worse, especially within Kerala. Outside, however, I have gained a lot of respect. I have been working recently in Mysore and Andhra Pradesh--in both places I was treated well, on equal footing with doctors, for example. Many years ago, when I was part of Jwalamukhi, the sex workers' organization, everybody was fond of me. Of course, those days I was in the position of someone who needed 'rescuing'! As long as you are in a place where you’re asking for help, constantly crying, "save me, help me!" people care about you. The minute you pick yourself up and stop crying for help, the sympathy stops flowing! In fact the crying gives them a kick--they don't like it when you stop giving them that pleasure! If you keep on crying, many will rush to your rescue--but that's just for a short while....
J Devika: The shift from being an abused daughter-in-law to being a full-time sex worker must have been a significant one in your life -- could you tell me more about that?
Nalini Jameela: To tell you the truth, I didn't think of it at all. I had to go along with someone, he would pay me, and that was the end of it. I never thought I'd take up sex work as my means of livelihood. Never thought I'd fall into it, but I did. It wasn't a well-thought-out decision. But once I got into it, I decided to stand firm, to face all the problems and dangers with courage. And I hoped to rise above all my troubles some day. I often see young sex workers who are beautiful, but bowed and bent because they bear the huge burden of guilt. These are the young women who are most vulnerable to exploitation. I tell them, once you get into this, it is important to pick yourself up. Stop pitying yourself, hold your head high; tell yourself, “This is where I am” and get a hold on your situation if you don’t want to be exploited.
Sex work changed my day-to-day life in many ways. My early life had been so difficult, so painful, that I rarely took the time to look good. But once I became a sex worker, I had to pay attention to my body. I began to dress well. That made me feel good--and gave me the confidence to accompany anyone, however high his status might have been! Paying attention to my body certainly helped me--I felt more cheerful, confident and more active. I saw that I could actually make an impression on a man. That doesn't mean making a client of him, getting him into bed--it means that you exert an influence on people. The man is aware of your presence; he can’t ignore you.
My daily routine became more disciplined. In the company house you have to wake up early at dawn, bathe and dress so that you look fresh when clients come. At a later stage, when I met clients in hotels near temples, again, I had to be an early riser. In those places, you have to leave your hotel room at five in the morning to create the impression that you’re going to the temple for the early morning puja.
It was hard to stay in touch with the few close women friends I had before I became a sex worker. Their husbands didn't want us to meet, but when they came to town, to see a movie, for instance, and passed by the places where I waited for clients, they would secretly get away to talk to me. Inevitably, at some point, they would ask me why I had to do this thing, and whether I couldn't give it up. That came out of distress—I was missing from their lives. They were also concerned that these men were 'doing things' to me. I would console them: they didn’t have to worry about me, because I had good friends, and well, the 'things' that my clients did to me were almost the same as the 'things' their husbands did to them!
J Devika: One of the most powerful aspects of your story is the way in which it highlights how, for marginalized women, the moral distinctions made between sex work, housework, and paid work are quite irrelevant…
Nalini Jameela: Let me tell you, people do all kinds of work in order to survive. The struggle to survive is largely the woman's burden—she’s the one who has to find money for the children’s upbringing, for health expenses, for parents. This applies to rich and the poor alike, though rich women may have more resources. But if your life is a struggle to survive and to support others, then you won't be concerned with whether the work you can get is dignified or not.
In order to find work and to keep a job, you have to please many people. A woman is expected to offer her body—many women have nothing else. And then she doesn’t care about being the faithful wife. And 'dignified work'--like domestic work--is quite 'dirty' too, you have to clean up other people's messes, wash their dirty clothes. Nor is that the end of it. Men in homes where women work as domestic workers aren’t concerned about this being ‘dignified’ work—many of them will pressure the woman working in their homes to do 'undignified' things! They are like snakes that lie in wait for the frogs, absolutely still--the frogs hop around, unaware, and are swallowed by the snakes in a flash!
It's not as if elite women don't know this; but it is convenient for them not to recognize this. They have much to gain if the divide between 'dignified' them and undignified' us stays intact. However, my coworkers in the sex workers' organization know that the divide is very thin.
One must emphasize the meaninglessness of this divide over and over again, in different ways. Recently at a meeting, I was asked by a young woman journalist whether sex workers weren't harassed in the course of their work. This was what I said to her: there are two ways you can pluck a ripe mango. You can either strike it down the hard way, with a stone, or you can pluck it softly, handle it gently. In the end, the mango will be eaten, anyway! Getting married is no safeguard against violence, even though the common consensus is that one can bear violence from a husband, but not violence from a client.
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