“And this also," said Marlow suddenly, "has been one of the dark places of the earth.” -Joseph Conrad

Last week I had the opportunity to travel into Sonagachi, the largest red light district in Kolkata. It is the residence of over 11,000 women, as well as several men, trapped in the sex industry. There are alleys upon alleys of brothels where women are leaning on walls and sitting in doorways waiting on clients. Along the streets young girls are lined up, based on ethnicity and area of origin. Most buildings either look like they would give you lung cancer just by entering them or that they are freshly painted by the same companies that work for circuses or state fairs. The strange contrast between old slimy buildings and brightly colored ones is unsettling, but deep down you know they are all crumbling from the inside even if they do have a fresh coat of paint. I sense the people are much the same.

All images are from google. Taking pictures of women
on the street would not have been okay.

 New Light is based in Kalighat, the red light district 2 minutes from my house. Yes, there are women standing on the side of the road much like Sonagachi, but these are women I pass by every day and say hello to. Two of the days I have been here I went to work in a sari and they told me over and over how nice it was as I was walking down the alleys. To me, this is normal now. How strange of a normal. Either way, even though the same type of things go on in Kalighat, I felt completely different as I walked down the streets of Sonagachi. New Light opened up a second shelter called operation Starfish which will hopefully grow to the size of New Light Kalighat (however, due to the sheer number of women and children in this area, I have zero doubt it could be even bigger than its mother cite).

Another volunteer, Sunnie, and I walked into the one room daycare for the sex worker's children around noon that day. 20 little toddlers were reading books or playing with educational toys but at the sight of us they knew it was play time. However, unlike the children in Kalighat New Light, some of the littlest ones had no idea what a white person was and were quite terrified to play. After some play time, Krishna asked us if we wanted to make 'home visits' with some of the staff. "Of course!" we said and followed them out into the street.

As we were walking down the roads, there was no shortage of staring. Many of the women waved to us, some blew kisses (I think it was innocent... maybe), and there were choruses of "hello madam" from the men. We went door to door to visit the mothers of the children in New Light. It comes to no surprise that all were extremely sweet and
welcoming and just excited that their children were being cared for in a way they couldn't provide at home. We were offered chai, food, promises of return visits, and one girl even stopped me on my way out to tell me I was beautiful. They were all amazing, strong women. It wasn't until I was back on the streets that I remembered that these women worked in the sex industry. In fact, every single woman that met my eye in every direction was more than likely a prostitute. It didn't feel weird. In fact, it felt so normal and so okay that it scared me.

You see, Sonagachi actually looks no different than many Indian streets to me. Businesses are operating, people are doing errands, cooking on the street, selling fruits or goods... one could easily forget that these women suffer on a daily basis by adding their bodies to this list. The ladies weren't dressed in anything obscene. I had a mental image in my mind about red light districts before I came here. It looked much like scantily clad women in lingerie, cat calling men and parading down streets while showing off their bodies. Granted, it was day time when I went, but this is nothing like what I saw. These women were merely silent, staring at those that passed by. The most inappropriate outfit I saw would be conservative by western standards and most are in saris anyway. In fact, if some didn't have so much make up on or all weren't standing in lines together, it would be easy to not realize they were sex workers and only women standing on the street looking bored.

I know extremely little about Sonagachi but what I did learn was unsettling. As you get deeper into the brothels, and higher up the floors of the buildings, you go deeper into the true soul of Sonagachi. The girls get younger, the women more exotic, and here is where the dancing sex workers, which are the most popular because of their talents, are kept inside and are not let out. As I did home visits, many of the houses were incredibly tiny and hard to breathe in. I'm not claustrophobic but I was struggling to get my lungs to work in many of these places with all the cooking and poor ventilation. I could not imagine spending my life in a building with the only company being clients and other women in in my position. It would be an easy place for someone to break and give up. New Light is attempting to stop this generational sex industry by giving some children of these women an education. Maybe, eventually, this aid will reach to the mothers as well. However, for now the focus is on the children and to give them a safe place to learn and to play and to be children in a place so dark and so eager to take childhood away.

My visit made a pretty big impact on me. How can things like Sonagachi exist? And how can they feel so normal to me at the same time? Look at my culture. We have prostitution, yes. We have loads of human trafficking within our own boarders, yes. But I have never seen the sheer magnitude of sex workers in such horrible conditions and in such a hopeless state before. As I was walking to leave, one painted face passed me and looked me straight in the eyes. She was absolutely gorgeous. Eyes smudged black with eyeliner looked straight into mine and her look was one of puzzlement. It was almost as if to say "Why are you here? You don't belong. This is not a place for you." Her perfectly painted red lips did not smile or open to say hi. She could not have been a day over 17. She'd forgotten, or maybe she never knew, that she doesn't belong here either. This not the place for her. She's worth far more than she thinks she is. I will not forget her face.