Review: The Autobiography of a Sex Worker

Title: The Autobiography of a Sex Worker 
Author: Nalini Jameela
Year of Publication: 2005
Series: NASeries #: NA
Goodreads Rating (Avg.): 3.19
Goodreads Rating (Mine): 5

Synopsis: An autobiographical work by a sex worker and activist from Thrissur, Kerala. I read the revised edition translated into English (it would have taken me forever and a giant dictionary to read it in the original Malayalam.)

Autobiography of a Sex Worker is in one word, mind blowing. The author’s narrative voice is strong and dispersed with wry humour. She comes across as well aware that her matter-of-fact narrative holds up an uncomfortable mirror to society.

It’s hard to review such a book. Any recommendation I can give pales in comparison, when the book speaks for itself so assertively. It is revolutionary on countless planes and for numerous reasons, for Kerala boasts an extremely conservative culture. Keralite women from well off, upper caste backgrounds still fight to retain any semblance of autonomy. Even today, this is a society that largely shuts down by 6 or 8 pm, with people retiring to their homes after that. The exceptions are by and large extended only to men. Both men and women enjoy little freedom when it comes to choosing a husband or wife, and the suffocating social structure demands that women be married by 23 (or at least 25), and men before they are 30. Even within the framework of arranged marriage, many parts of our society still consider it scandalous that the bride and groom speak to each other at length before their wedding day.

Above all else, this is a society that severely punishes choice and desire. And I don’t mean the desire to exercise sexual, financial or marital autonomy. Leaving nothing to chance, elders in the family will go so far as to punish the least expression of a desire. And children grow up learning to keep their secrets closest to their hearts, to bury their goals and dreams, and to conform to the best of their ability – while still stealing what little freedom they can from the corners of their lives their elders cannot see.

In such a stifling atmosphere, hypocrisy inevitably abounds. It is not that the members of this society actually practice what they preach – only that they bury their truths under layers of “respectability” and an excessive willingness to point the finger at others.

It is rare for women’s voices to be amplified within a family, let alone across Keralite society at large. It is even rarer for those women to be dalit, and unheard of that they be sex workers. Nalini spans these divides effortlessly in her narrative, speaking loud and clear the truths that an entire state collectively wishes to clap its ears against.

The narrative is non-linear and conversational, and you have to but close your eyes in order to imagine the author sitting across the table, talking to you over a few drinks. The aspect that stands out about this book the most is the fact that this isn’t just the autobiography of a sex worker, isn’t just the autobiography of an activist, or that of a wife and mother. It is the autobiography of a woman, a woman who cannot be reduced to any one aspect of her personality, much as you would try.

I noticed the Goodreads ratings of this book averaged at 3 stars, and decided to go into some of the reviews to find out why. What I found was not dissimilar to that of my experience with The Handmaid’s Tale – a number of people were made uncomfortable by the book, and gave it a lower rating as a result. Some others rated it on its technical aspects – something I normally look at in a book, only here I did not find technical flaws out-balancing the sheer force of the narrative or the author’s voice.

The factor that most makes this book stand out is exactly what caused controversy at its publication and which caused many readers to rate it lower – Nalini is not apologetic about her career. She refuses to dehumanize herself for the comfort of the reader, refuses to sugarcoat uncomfortable truths, refuses to present herself as less than what she is. One reader mentions that he was looking for something “more psychological.” Another is upset that it is just a stream of anecdotes about her clients. Reading these reviews made me wonder what these readers had missed.

She talks about her early childhood, her parents and their dynamics. Her mother’s relative lack of a voice in the family after she lost her job convinced the author that earning money was the only way to stay independent. She decides to start working as a child labourer at nearby factories, forever in relentless pursuit of a higher wage. She narrates the sexual harassment that she and other girls her age faced as a matter of course (still a thing in Kerala, and which is patronizingly referred to as “eve-teasing”). She describes the various methods they adopted to avoid this harassment – walking with a friend, sprinting down a particularly notorious stretch of road if they were alone. She talks about her first marriage – no registration, no legalities, and they were considered married purely by public perception they did not correct. She switched to sex work as it provided her with a better way of supporting her daughter – a daughter she had to leave behind and cut ties with in order to support. She talks about how sex work was organized back in her day, about her second marriage and subsequent conversion to Islam – the second husband’s religion. Neither this conversion, nor the second marriage were formalized, a factor that came into play at a later time when the question of her maintenance arose. (Under religious personal laws in India, dependents are entitled to maintenance if they fit certain criteria.) She talks about illnesses she suffered, and successful businesses she ran in the course of her life. About the constant shifting around, the desire to settle down, the need for a greater income and a second career (which was one of the reasons she decided to pursue writing.) She’s also a filmmaker, but none of these details would be apparent if you were reading one of the disappointed reviews on Goodreads.

Which brings me to repeat my earlier question: Did they read the same book I did?

Nalini talks about her clients as people who primarily wanted to talk, to be heard. She talks about how many of them looked to her as a sex therapist. But it is also clear in the course of her narrative that this is a woman who has spent an entire lifetime gathering expertise how to control her clients so they don’t grow too violent. But for the most part, she takes a “men will be men” attitude towards it, and doesn’t really discuss the possibility of changes to the foundation of toxic masculinity.

She also emphasizes her belief that sex workers need to be strong and take control of their agency to avoid being exploited. Simultaneously, she campaigns for greater legal and medical protection for sex workers, argues against criminalization, and calls out the double standards wherein only sex workers are faced with social stigma, as if they exist in a detached bubble, as if their clients are not existing members of society who are completely ignored by those who scorn sex work.

A definite must read for every Keralite, for every Indian.