SWOP Behind Bars Advocacy from the Margins

Imagine a world where safety is not conditional, where dignity is not negotiable, and where justice does not come with caveats. A world where sex work is recognized as work - where our labor is respected, our boundaries are honored, and no one has to fear that their job will cost them their life.

December 17 is a day of remembrance—but it has always been more than mourning.
Each year, as we gather under the red umbrella, we hold two truths at once: the depth of our grief and the strength of our resolve. Every candle lit, every name spoken aloud, every moment of silence holds the weight of loss—but it also carries the spark of resistance. Our memorials are not passive acts of sadness. They are declarations that we remember, we resist, and we refuse to let violence define us.

If we want to end violence against sex workers, we need to start following the money.
For decades, billions in public and private funding have flowed into systems that cause more harm - police raids, carceral “rescue” programs, and anti-trafficking initiatives that erase the difference between consensual sex work and exploitation. These programs are often packaged as “safety.” Still, the reality is far darker: they produce arrests, family separation, deportations, and lifelong criminal records for the very people they claim to save.

Solidarity is not abstract - it’s something you practice.
For sex workers, real allyship means moving beyond hashtags and sympathy into consistent, tangible action. It means showing up, speaking up, and putting your values into action - not just on December 17, but every day of the year.

Say the name Jezebel, and most people immediately picture the ultimate bad girl of the Bible - the woman so scandalous she got her own eternal insult. She’s the gold standard of "don’t be that girl". But let’s look a little closer at her story and ask: was Jezebel truly evil, or was she just guilty of existing in a man’s world without apologizing for it? Spoiler: history doesn’t look kindly on women who refuse to stay in their lane.

When we talk about ending violence against sex workers, one of the most powerful tools we have isn’t another round of policing or another set of restrictive laws-it’s decriminalization.
Because the evidence is clear: criminalization makes sex work more dangerous, while decriminalization saves lives.

Art has always been one of the fiercest weapons of survival for sex workers. When our histories are erased, art rewrites them. When the world refuses to see us, art makes us visible. When grief threatens to swallow us whole, art transforms it into something we can hold, share, and use to fight back.
On December 17, as we remember those taken by violence, we also honor the beauty and power that emerge from within our communities - the murals that reclaim the streets that pushed us out, the poetry that tells truths no courtroom ever would, the portraits, zines, and altar pieces that insist: we were here, we are still here, and we will not disappear quietly.

For many sex workers, “family” is not a word that brings comfort. Too often, biological families, faith communities, and social institutions turn their backs on us. Some reject us for the work we do, others for our gender, sexuality, or survival choices. What’s left behind is a painful truth: sometimes, the people who were supposed to love us unconditionally are the first to abandon us.
But out of that rejection, something powerful is born - chosen family.