Connect with us

Hi, what are you looking for?

#KaraniwangLGBT

Sex for ₱150? A trans woman’s introduction to sex work at 15 in Mandaue City

Meet transgender woman Yna, who started doing sex work in Mandaue City at the age of 15, earning ₱150 that she used to feed herself. Now 18, she still walks the streets of Cebu province, making a living while finding her life’s goals.

ALL PHOTOS USED FOR REPRESENTATION ONLY | Photo by Richard Stachmann from Unsplash.com

This is part of #KaraniwangLGBTQIA, which Outrage Magazine officially launched on July 26, 2015 to offer vignettes of LGBT people/living, particularly in the Philippines, to give so-called “everyday people” – in this case, the common LGBTQIA people – that chance to share their stories.
As Outrage Magazine editor Michael David C. Tan says: “All our stories are valid – not just the stories of the ‘big shots’. And it’s high time we start telling all our stories.”

Quite skinny, 18-year-old transgender woman Yna (not her real name) appeared jumpy. We were in Mango Square, this place with a collection of bars in the middle of Cebu City. This, too, is a one of the places where sex workers (usually freelance, or street-based) congregate. Which was how our paths cross, with Yna introduced by another transgender sex worker for me to interview.

Clad in a short skit, Yna sat herself across me. She helped herself to a bottle of beer, stuffed in the bucket on the table between us. Her smile was wide, but she seemed restless; she chatted animatedly, her eyes too-frequently fluttering, her extended fingers too-regularly touching each other. Now and then she paused to lick her lips. Longer pauses happened when loud noises were heard from the street, when she flinched and then looked at the direction of where the noise may have come from.

“Panic,” she said with another smile, this time wan, when she noticed me staring at her.

Apparently, a few days before the interview, some of her friends were taken into custody by the local police. Entrapped, she – with the other sex workers with us then – alleged, supposedly to “fill the quota” of “captured pushers/addicts”. She said she witnessed what happened; she was among those who were chased but not caught. So she’s jittery. “Choks lang; part of the job (It’s okay; part of the job),” she said.

INITIATION INTO SEX WORK

Yna started sex work at 15 in Mandani (a development in Mandaue City in Cebu Province). “Nasuwayan kay gusto man ko kanang makakuwarta ko. Unya para makakaon sad ko sa akong kaugalingon. Nag-harbat ko (I tried because I wanted to earn money. So I could also eat on my own. I picked up).”

Eventually, “naanad ko. Mang-harbat na ko. Ganahan ko ingun-ana. Gusto ko maka-kuwarta. Makakuwarta kog 50, malipay na lang jud ko (I got used to it. I learned to pick up. I learned to like it. I wanted to make money. I’d earn ₱50, and I’d already be very happy).”

Here’s the thing, though: Yna is not unique. In 2015, the Integrated HIV Behavior and Serologic Surveillance (IHBSS) from the Deartment of Health, reported that 30% of the transgender women in Cebu had paying male partner in the last 12 months. And they start young, too, with transgender women – as a population – engaging in sex as early as four years old.

Yna always knew she’s trans. None in her family cared… though mainly because family members were, generally, non-existent.

Yna has two siblings; she’s the eldest. But none of them live/d together. Their father remarried when their mother died; one sibling lives with his new family even if he, himself, left to work overseas, and the other sibling lives with other relatives. “Ako na lang gabuhi sa akong kaugalingon (I keep myself alive),” she said, adding that an aunt (her mother’s sister) adopted her in 2018 out of pity, but largely leaves her on her own.

Advertisement. Scroll to continue reading.

Since she – generally – now lives on her own, “wala na nag-eskuwela. Kay wala man nag-kuwan nako. Nag-undang ko. Grade 4 (I stopped schooling. No one supports me now. I stopped. In Grade 4).”

Nowadays, when Yna sells herself, “mag-sex usahay sa lodge, usahay sa kilid, kanang tanuman ba. Ara lang. Sa Mandani, Park Mall dapit. Manggawas lang man mga trabahante. Manginom; magtagay. Mga construction; tagabuhat ning mga unsa ba, building (sometimes we have sex at a lodge, but at times just in grassy areas. There, in Mandani, near Park Mall. Men who work there come out. They grab drinks. These are construction workers, those who work in the buildings there).”

Most of what Yna knew related to sex and even sex work were taught by friends, who were usually fellow sex workers. Notably, though, there were no “regular” friends for sex workers like Yna.
Photo by Richard Stachmann from Unsplash.com

SURVIVAL MODE

That time she was first introduced to sex work, “wala mi condom ato. Kay wala man ko kailag condom, so wala ko kasuway’g condom (we didn’t use condom. I didn’t know about condom then, so I haven’t tried using it).”

But Yna recalled getting sick.

Gihilantan ko pag-kuwan nako. Kulbaan lang pud ko. Wala ko nahadlok sa sakit. Gikulbaan ra ko kay kinaugmaan gihilantan ko. Natakigan ko kaadlawon, mao tu niinom kog tambal. Palit kog amoxycillin. Nawala man lang sad (I had fever after the sex. I was nervous. I wasn’t scared of getting sick. Just nervous that I had fever the day after. I was ill at dawn so I took a medicine. I bought amoxycillin. The fever just disappeared).”

Yna became a regular sex worker.

Yna still rarely used condoms.

Pilion man nako kung kinsay gamitan ug condom (I choose who to use condoms with),” she said, adding that “magsuway-suway na ko, sakit man ning naay condom. Mas lami ang wala (I tried using condom, but it’s painful. It feels better bareback).”

There was fear, of course, “sukad namatay akong amiga. Unya HIV man siya. 2022. Namatay; bata pa, disinuwebe pang edad. Nahadlok ko. Usahay dili na lang ko magpalubot (since a friend died. That’s due to HIV. He died; he was young, only 19. I got scared. So sometimes I refuse anal sex).”

Not that Yna fully understood HIV. For her, this is “sira sa laki, mabalhin kuno nako. Mao ra. Basta dili ko mugamit ug condom (a disease from men, which can transfer to me. That’s it. It’s transferred when I don’t use a cndom).”

Advertisement. Scroll to continue reading.

But then practicality surfaces, so that – particularly when the offer is good – Yna said people like her just cave in, albeit “mamili lang kog tawo. Kanang limpyo. Simhuton man nakong utin. Dili ko magpadayun ug baho. Dili ko kay lud-on man ko. Dili sad ko palubot. Mangita na lag lain (I just choose my sex partner. Someone clean. I smell their penises. I don’t continue if there’s stench. I don’t do this also because it disgusts me. I don’t allow them to penetrate me. I just look for other clients).”

CHALLENGING CONDITIONS

The risk of getting infected with sexually transmitted infections (STIs), including HIV, was only one of the Yna’s worries. Another was the security of sex workers like herself, including from abuses of law enforcers.

Kalisod ba. Naay curfew. Usahay managan mi. Bawal man sad mi manguwan kay bata pa man mi (It’s hard. There’s a curfew. At times we ran away from law enforcers. It’s also illegal for us to sell sex because we’re still young),” she said.

It didn’t help that even those supposed to serve them failed in doing so.

Perhaps this shouldn’t come as a surprise, what with IHBSS 2015 reporting that 7% of transgender women in Cebu experienced discrimination done by a health care provider.

One time, Yna recalled, one gay HIV counselor gave her antiretroviral medicines (the medicines used by people living with HIV) after telling her to “give it a try”. But then “ingon sa akong amiga, ‘Ayaw sa uy. Pa-HIV sa daan.’ Unya pa-HIV nako, wala man, perfect man, wala may kagaw (a friend told me, ‘Don’t use that yet. Get tested for HIV first.’ So I got tested, the result was perfect, I do not have the virus).”

Nowadays, when Yna sells herself, “mag-sex usahay sa lodge, usahay sa kilid, kanang tanuman ba. Ara lang. Sa Mandani, Park Mall dapit. Manggawas lang man mga trabahante. Manginom; magtagay. Mga construction; tagabuhat ning mga unsa ba, building.”
Photo by Richard Stachmann from Unsplash.com

FRIENDS AS FAMILY

Most of what Yna knew related to sex and even sex work were taught by friends, who were usually fellow sex workers. Notably, though, there were no “regular” friends for sex workers like Yna. That is, “puli-pulihan lang man namo. Kanang Sabado, amiga nako. Sa sunod nga Sabado, lain na pud, pero amiga na pud nako (the people in our circles change. Those working on a Saturday, they’re friends. But come another Saturday, people working with you are different, but you also consider them as friends).”

Yna recognized that when talking about “heavy issues”, such as HIV, “dili ko mutuo sa akong amigo (I don’t believe my friends).” Instead, those working in health care facilities could be better sources of such information. And yet the former “is always accessible”, while the latter “has issues.” And so most of the time, “ang nagtudlo nako ang mga amiga (friends are my teachers).” These were the people who told her ‘Pag-condom jud kay mao nig makatabang sa imong kuwan (Always use condoms to help you at work)’, as well as ‘Anaa pagsulod sa condom (This is how you put on a condom)’.”

Yna held the bottle of beer close to her, took a dainty drink. And then she took a look outside. There, a group of Korean men were standing not too far from the façade of the bar we were in. She looked at her friend with us: “Keri ra (Is it okay)?”, asking for permission to leave. When her friend nodded, she turned to me, her eyes widening, her own face asking the same question to me. “Keri ra uy (It’s okay)!”

I continued watching her as she tried to hustle the Korean men. She was playful with them, and occasionally would throw quick looks our way, as if she’s performing for us.

From a distance, I saw a parked police patrol car; there were two men inside, though they seemed to be sleeping. Yna, I noticed, saw them, too. She kept glancing their way, even as she started to be touchy with the men. Eventually, no deal was reached, so the men walked away. Yna waved at them, and then started walking fast away from the direction of the patrol car.

Advertisement. Scroll to continue reading.

One look again our way, with a wave goodbye. All in a night’s work. For Yna, and people like her.

The founder of Outrage Magazine, Michael David dela Cruz Tan completed BA Communication Studies from University of Newcastle in NSW, Australia; and Master of Development Communication from the University of the Philippines-Open University. Conversant in Filipino Sign Language, Mick can: photograph, do artworks with mixed media, write (DUH!), shoot flicks, community organize, facilitate, lecture, and research (with pioneering studies under his belt). He authored "Being LGBT in Asia: Philippines Country Report", and "Red Lives" that creatively retells stories from the local HIV community. Among others, Mick received the Catholic Mass Media Awards in 2006 for Best Investigative Journalism, and Art that Matters - Literature from Amnesty Int'l Philippines in 2020. Cross his path is the dare (guarantee: It won't be boring).

Advertisement
Advertisement

Like Us On Facebook

YOU MAY ALSO LIKE

Health & Wellness

Navigators reduce structural barriers to affirming health care, improving access and reducing stress for transgender and gender-diverse individuals.

Health & Wellness

Teens also need to feel confident about buying and using condoms, they need to plan to use them, and they need to be able...

Love Affairs

Being more honest in expressing a desired change predicted greater personal and relationship well-being for both partners, as well as greater partner motivation to...

Op-Ed

Edward Berger’s "Conclave" delves into the inner workings of the Catholic Church during the election of a new Pope. But by highlighting an intersex...

Advertisement