Hatanaka, Ayami 2018 Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Thesis
Title: Carceral Feminism at Home in the United States: Sex Work, Legislative Influence, and Anti-Trafficking Discourse Advisor: Gregory Mitchell Advisor is Co-author: None of the above Second Advisor: Anne Valk Released: release now Contains Copyrighted Material: No
Carceral Feminism at Home in the United States Sex Work, Legislative Influence, and Anti-Trafficking Discourse
Ayami Hatanaka Advisors: Professor Gregory Mitchell and Professor Anne Valk
A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of Bachelor of Arts with Honors in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies.
WILLIAMS COLLEGE Williamstown, Massachusetts May 12, 2018
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Table of Contents
Acknowledgements …………………………………………………………………………….… 3
Preface ………………………………………………………………………………………...… 5
Chapter One – “Introduction: Listening to the World Between Carceral Feminism, Legislation,
Anti-Trafficking Activists, and Sex Workers” …………………………………………… 7
Chapter Two – “Understanding Carceral Feminism in the Anti-Trafficking Context” ……..… 38
Chapter Three – “Grounding Carceral Feminist Theory: Sex Working in Real Life” ……...… 60
Chapter Four – “Epilogue: Carceral Feminism Today with FOSTA-SESTA Signed Into
Law” …………………………………………………………………………………… 73
Appendices …………………………………………………………………………………...… 86
Bibliography …………………………………………………………………………………… 93 3
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, thank you to Carol Leigh and BAYSWAN for their partnership, mentorship, and encouragement. Without their trust and belief in me, this thesis would not have been possible.
Each oral history interviewee entrusted me with their stories, experiences, and words, and
I will never be able to fully express my appreciation and thanks. Edith, Mariko, Cinnamon,
Victoria, Kristen, Shawnie, and Carol, thank you for your time, your space, your care, and your passion.
I cannot say thank you enough to my patient, kind, and understanding advisors, Professor
Annie Valk and Professor Gregory Mitchell, for guiding me through this process, reading draft after draft, and offering me wisdom.
I deeply appreciate the time and energy of those whom I spoke with about my ideas, including Alix Lutnick and Cris Sardina.
I extend a huge, heartful thank you to Emery Shriver and Rebecca Ohm, both of whom were invaluable in this process and walked me through countless resources and searches.
It is uncertain to me whether I would have written a thesis and become interested in research if it was not for the Allison Davis Research Fellowship. Thank you to Molly Magavern,
Bob Blay, Professor Sara Dubow, and my entire cohort who were instrumental in making my experience within the fellowship a positive one, supported me through various moments, and introduced me to a whole new world of knowledge.
My oral history interviews would have never happened without the generous support of the Collin and Lili Roche 1993 Student Research Program, and the wonderful people who make such opportunities available to students. Thank you very much for the belief in my project! 4
Thank you to my many friends who supported me endlessly and tirelessly through the process of research and writing. I am forever grateful for your open hearts, thoughtul minds, and affirming words. There are many people I could name here, but I would certainly miss someone.
Please know that if I consider you a friend, you are among the most wonderful people whom I thank here.
Claudia and Rachel, you made my senior year one I could never forget – thank you for showing me that friendships can be full of sparkling empathy and magic.
My caring and loving family, despite never fully understanding exactly what I was doing, have loved me and cheered me on from afar. Thank you very much for your love and care.
Thank you to Justinas, for the endless support, bouncing of ideas, late night teas and coffees, use of earplugs, fixing of diagrams, difficult conversations, and warm, enveloping love.
Lastly, thank you to my brilliant, amazing mother, who has sacrificed so much for me to be where I am today. She has only ever loved, cared for, and protected me. I will never be able to thank her enough.
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Preface
I am deeply proud of the work I have done for this thesis, and I strongly and firmly believe that the topic of carceral feminism within anti-trafficking discourse and sex work is one of the most challenging topics I could have chosen to tackle for this year. However, this thesis is incomplete without my acknowledging that my thesis project would look entirely different if I had the opportunity to engage in Asian American Studies during my time at Williams, either as a concentration or a major. In fact, an Asian American Studies lens through which to study carceral feminism and anti-trafficking discourse would have been a significant, important, and much needed contribution, given the ways in which Asian/American bodies are utilized by the ideology of carceral feminism and perverse humanitarianism within anti-trafficking discourse.
At one point, I had hoped to write an excavation of the experiences of queer women in
Japanese-American internment during World War II, but the lack of classes on Asian American subjects and an Asian American Studies program led me to believe that the topic was not one the academy would find important or engaging. Although the topic itself possibly may not have been feasible (which I do not know because those resources within Asian American Studies have not been available to me), I also did not have a pathway to understand how I might change or adapt the topic. I now understand that this thought process was a result of the way in which I myself have been told, explicitly and implicitly, that my histories are not worth studying.
The lack of Asian American Studies at Williams College has resulted in my lacking resources to feel seen, heard, and understood within the community. It has also taken me far too long to recognize the anti-blackness within Asian/American communities, dialogues, and narratives, as well as the fact that the model minority myth is rooted in anti-blackness. I wonder about the many other aspects and critiques of Asian/America in which I have not yet engaged. 6
The condition of students of color at Williams is one of constant erasure, demand for unacknowledged labor, and delegitimized pain. Not only would growing close to or even just having access to several Asian Americanist professors mean I would be able to see individuals like myself doing work I admire and contemplate pursuing, but it would also have been a chance to delve deeper into questions that have been brewing within me and have become articulated more clearly over the past four years.
I do hope that Asian American Sudies will be established at Williams in the coming years, perhaps even within five or ten years. I am optimistic about this possibility, and I sincerely do hope that students following me at Williams will explore some of the personally intellectual questions I continue to ask every day. This is not to devalue the work in the following thesis project, but rather to muse on the possibilities of what could have been. Thank you for reading.
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Chapter One Introduction: Listening to the World Between Carceral Feminism, Legislation, Anti-Trafficking Activists, and Sex Workers
[…T]rafficking and a lot of this discourse is really, really nerdy. I mean it's really heady. It's really hard. You really do need some kind of a degree to get through a lot of it. I actually consider myself pretty educated, but it was too hard for me. Honestly. Like it was over my head so, I remember going to a conference with Carol [Leigh] and going, 'Oh my god, this is so heady. I'm totally lost in this discussion.' […] It's really academic. It's really hard to understand. And, um. The people who are at this conference, […] Um, they were like the major players in all of the global trafficking discourse. People, blah blah blah, right? And I just felt lost, you know? Like I just felt overwhelmed and lost. And just like I was just not qualified to be there. Or something.1
When Mariko, my last interviewee, stated that she thought she “was just not qualified” to fully understand, participate in, and contribute to critiques and analyses of anti-trafficking discourse, I felt partially responsible for the jargon-heavy inaccessibility of academia. Of course, the notion that I am responsible for academia’s inaccessibility to most sex workers is preposterous, as this thesis is the first academic piece of writing of mine regarding anti-trafficking discourse that will be read by individuals who are not just my advisors.2 However, it is true that academic research and writing on the topic of conflating trafficking and sex work has largely excluded sex workers.
Such studies are much more removed in nature and exclude the thoughts and words of the sex workers who are often conflated as trafficking victims or traffickers and thereby further criminalized. When beginning to formulate the idea for this thesis project, I recalled mentors who encouraged me to find what was missing in the existing literature – what were the gaps that existed, and could I fill them? But as I wrestled with the question, I instead found myself asking who was missing in the existing scholarly works. The obvious answer was sex workers themselves.
1 Mariko Passion, interview by Ayami Hatanaka, Skype, February 12, 2018. 2 I do think it is important to note, however, that through my own writing I am complicit in this inaccessibility, and this is something I hold as I continue my work as a part of the elite institution that is Williams College. 8
Hearing Mariko discuss how she felt unable to comprehend the hyper-intellectualized works critiquing anti-trafficking discourse (despite her Bachelor’s Degree from UC Berkeley and her Master’s Degree in Education from UCLA) reminded me of the original goals of my thesis project. By putting sex workers’ own voices and words in conversation with the academic analysis of anti-trafficking discourse, especially in conversation with my own critique of how anti-trafficking has become a part of and affects legal discourse concerning sex work, I aim to critique anti-trafficking discourse within interactions between the legal sphere and individuals living under US laws. This project is significant because it puts sex workers’ voices, which some have described as “just not qualified to be there,” in conversation with the intellectual conversation happening in academia, indicating it is not that academia is too difficult for some, but rather there are barriers to entry. Lastly, this thesis aims to trace the ways US legal and domestic governing spheres are guided by anti-sex work assumptions in anti-trafficking discourse and incorporate anti-trafficking discourse that imposes the logics of carceral feminism on marginalized populations.
The academic stakes of this thesis project are clear, as it directly responds to and builds on sociologist Elizabeth Bernstein’s work on carceral feminism. Bernstein defines her concept, in a broad sense, as “a vision of social justice as criminal justice, and of punitive systems of control as the best motivational deterrents for men’s bad behavior, serv[ing] as a crucial point of connection with state actors, evangelicals, and others who have embraced the antitrafficking cause.”3 My work presents a particular intervention around Bernstein’s work on carceral feminism through the oral history interviews with sex workers themselves: the interviews, in
3 Elizabeth Bernstein, “Militarized Humanitarianism Meets Carceral Feminism: The Politics of Sex, Rights, and Freedom in Contemporary Antitrafficking Campaigns,” in Signs 36, no. 1 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2010), 58. 9 conversation with other texts regarding the topic, indicate that carceral feminism is not only “a crucial point of connection,” for those “who have embraced the anti-trafficking cause,” but that carceral feminism as an ideology has become imbued in the anti-trafficking legislation and laws in the United States, further criminalizing sex workers and becoming a mask for other forms of state control that hide behind it.4
Literature Review
I ended every single of my seven oral history interviews with the exact same question: “If there was one thing you would like people to know about sex work, what would it be?” One of the interviewees, Kristen D’Angelo, who has not only been a sex worker for over forty years, but also spent part of that time being trafficked into forced sexual labor, replied immediately to this question without hesitation, “That sex work is work. That we’re just like everybody else. There’s no difference from us than anybody else, we’re just in a profession that maybe you don’t understand, or maybe you won’t ever understand, but that’s okay. I might not understand yours.”5 In 1979, Carol Leigh – one of the interviewees for this thesis project – attended a conference in San Francisco organized by Women Against Violence in Pornography and Media, intending to be a sort of ambassador, educating other feminists about prostitution. When discovering the title of the workshop on prostitution included the words “Sex Use Industry,”
Carol questioned, “How could I sit amid other women as a political equal when I was being objectified like that, described only as something used, obscuring my role as an actor and agent in this transaction?”6 She then proposed that the title of the workshop should be changed to “Sex
4 Through this thesis, I will discuss two such cases: immigration policy and censorship. 5 Kristen DiAngelo, interview by Ayami Hatanaka, Sacramento, January 20, 2018. Because DiAngelo identifies with the term trafficking and as a trafficking survivor, I will be utilizing that term when discussing her particular experience. 6 Carol Leigh, “Inventing Sex Work,” in Whores and Other Feminists, ed. Jill Nagle (New York: Routledge, 1997), 230. 10
Work Industry,” and Leigh went on to explain “how crucial it was to create a discourse about the sex trades that could be inclusive of women working in the trades.”7 The personal nature of how this term became coined is significant to understanding this framing of prostitution as sex work.
Leigh writes: “This invention was motivated by my desire to reconcile my feminist goals with the reality of my life and the lives of the women I knew. I wanted to create an atmosphere of tolerance within and outside the women’s movement for women working in the sex industry.”8 I quote Leigh heavily here because there is no one better to explain the invention of the term “sex work” than the person who invented it herself. Yet, what is perhaps most important about this social, political, and intellectual intervention is its framing of prostitution as labor.9
When I proposed my thesis, my central research question was, “How does the Trafficking
Victims Protection Act utilize carceral feminist and perverse humanitarian ideas in the domestic sphere to criminalize sex workers?”10 However, this question assumes a direct link or line of power and influence between the written law and the experiences of sex workers. 11 If power is
7 Ibid. 8 Ibid., 225. 9 For more on this notion of sex work as labor and its conceptualization as different types of labor, see: Melinda Chateauvert, Sex Workers Unite: A History of the Movement from Stonewall to Slutwalk, (Boston: Beacon Press, 2013). Gregory Mitchell, Tourist Attractions: Performing Race and Masculinity in Brazil’s Sexual Economy, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015). For work from a researcher who is positioned between scholars like Mitchell and carceral feminists, consider: Deborah R. Brock, Making Work, Making Trouble: Prostitution as a Social Problem, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998). 10 “Perverse humanitarianism refers to NGO’s mobilization of empathy for female victims and disgust for male consumers of sex to justify the feminist repression of other poorer or more disadvantaged women in the process of ‘rescue,’” writes sociologist Kimberly Kay Hoang, while introducing the concept through the case of Vietnamese sex workers. “NGOs [that target sex trafficking ] use carceral feminism tactics and notions to carry through their operation as dislocated arms of the state that, under the guise of promoting freedom, engage in exercises of rescue that mirror practices of incarceration.” My own understanding and intervention of perverse humanitarianism is explicitly placing it in the international sphere. While trying to understand perverse humanitarianism in relation to carceral feminism in the US domestic sense, as Hoang understands it in relation to carceral feminism in the international stage, I came to explicitly understand that perverse humanitarianism as a framework that works when “Americans” go overseas to “save” others. Kimberly Kay Hoang, “Perverse Humanitarianism and the Business of Rescue: What’s Wrong with NGOs and What’s Right with the Johns?,” Political Power and Social Theory 30, no. 1 a special issue titled Perverse Politics (2016): 23. 11 Although it will be defined more fully in the coming pages, carceral feminism, crudely and simply put, is a reliance on the carceral structures (such as the criminal justice system, policing, incarceration) to solve issues of 11 discursive in the Foucauldian sense, then the power/knowledge that produces carceral feminism is not a directly traceable line with immediate and obvious traces of how anti-trafficking discourse and legislation criminalizes sex work, but rather one that influences the discourse around anti-trafficking to produce the sense of a dichotomized existence for sex workers: either victim or criminal.12 Thus a more informed, aware, and critical question would be, “How do notions from carceral feminism, through anti-trafficking discourse, manifest in legislation and legislation to influence the criminalization of sex workers in the US domestic sphere?” This question is not only better suited to the realities of what the project is examining, but it is also better suited to the methods I will be using.
Trafficking and Language
Language is of the most critical importance to this thesis project. In July of 1971, Angela
Davis wrote from the Marin County Jail, “Often we tend to ignore the immense power of language over our ability to perceive what is happening around us. We should all be aware that there exists an official language whose sole function is to deceive — to distort rather than reflect reality.”13 Davis was writing about the Vietnam War and police violence as a manifestation of racist state violence and the ways language obfuscates this reality. Her words continue to ring true for a variety of issues, including that of anti-trafficking discourse. Davis writes that “People are trained to relate to the words of that language, rather than the realities hidden behind them.
Daily we are bombarded through the media with terms like ‘Vietnam,’ ‘criminals’ and ‘violence,’ all designed to call forth automatic, unthinking responses.”14 One of the critical,
gendered and sexual violence. The use of carceral feminism logic to conflating sex work and forced sexual labor implies an assumption that all sex work inherently cannot be consensual. 12 Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, Volume One: An Introduction (London: Vintage, 1990), 21. 13 Angela Davis, “Rhetoric Vs. Reality,” Ebony 26, no. 9 (July 1971): 115 - 20, accessed March 5, 2018, https://books.google.com/books?id=5tsDAAAAMBAJ&printsec=. 14 Angela Davis, “Rhetoric Vs. Reality,” Ebony 26, no. 9 (July 1971): 115 - 20, accessed March 5, 2018, https://books.google.com/books?id=5tsDAAAAMBAJ&printsec=. 12 key ideas of this thesis project is the ways in which anti-trafficking discourse manipulates language to portray and manipulate a particular image: that of the “enslaved” white woman who is trafficked by the evil “other.” Just as Davis writes that words like “Vietnam” were (and continue to be) utilized to evoke a particular response, words used by anti-trafficking NGOs, non-profits, and government organizations, such as “sex slavery,” “rescue missions,” and
“modern-day slavery,” are shaped through media to evoke a particular image and feeling.
The language used by anti-trafficking organizations, such as the Polaris Project and the
International Justice Mission, employ a moral framework connected to carceral feminism, as opposed to a sustained critique of global labor systems and structures. For example, Polaris
Project opens their page on sex trafficking by stating, “Sex trafficking is a form of modern slavery that exists throughout the United States and globally.”15 Because slavery is so often understood to be a moral issue in the United States (and is coded as inherently morally wrong), the Polaris Project frames sex trafficking as this same immoral action without having to explain the term.
This particular, morality-driven perspective results in a potent and peculiar partnership
(that is later explored) between those I will call “those who engage in and implement the logics of carceral feminism” (sometimes I may call them “carceral feminists,” but this is likely not a term they would use for themselves or with which they would identify), “Evangelical Christians who seek social control,” and NGOs/non-profit organizations and foundations. This partnership weaponizes and expertly wields this “official language whose sole function is to deceive,” (as
Davis writes) against sex workers. This language is especially powerful in influencing those in the public who reside in the political middle, not quite radical in either direction. One must speak
15 Polaris Project, “Sex Trafficking,” Polaris Project: Freedom Happens Now, last updated 2018, accessed May 2, 2018, https://polarisproject.org/human-trafficking/sex-trafficking. 13 the language of the state to convince the politically middle third of the population of an argument, and anti-trafficking discourse is very successful in convincing the US public that the problem is not the violent structure of global capitalism that often forces individuals to do work they do not want to do, nor is it the suffocating moralist arguments against sex work. Anti- trafficking discourse frame the mysterious, evil traffickers (often understood to be men of color) who prey on young, (usually white, sometimes Asian) women.
Such an argument is accomplished through the conflation of sex work and labor trafficking, which is foundational to the criminalization of sex work through anti-trafficking legislation. The thought behind this argument can be traced to various, older strains of thought, including early twentieth century anti-vice activism movements and the “white slavery” panic.
“White slavery” referred to forced prostitution, but its colloquial name indicates how the notion was racialized and classed, through “stories of sexual danger [that] fascinated white Americans during the Progressive Era (1900-1920), and they consumed increasing numbers of white slavery narratives in the form of plays, books, pamphlets, and magazine articles.”16 These alliances that look so strange now have long existed.
Debates about the morality of sex work resurfaced as an urgent issue during the second wave of feminism in the United States, and again later during the anti-pornography movement, as the two issues of prostitution and pornography became heavily conflated and over-simplified.
For example, one scholar, Rebecca Whisnant, who conflates the two forms, writes,
“Pornography is the documentation of prostitution. It is a technologized form of prostitution –
16 Brian Donovan, White Slave Crusades: Race, Gender, and Anti-Vice Activism 1887 - 1917, (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2006), 1. 14 prostitution at one remove.”17 By utilizing language to frame pornography as the new technological site of prostitution, Whisnant and anti-prostitution feminists had a new issue on which to focus those same debates and engage the same players. One of the most well-known anti-pornography feminist activists of the late 1970’s and 1980’s was Andrea Dworkin. Dworkin wrote several influential essays and gave many speeches regarding the issue. In one of her most well-known works, “Prostitution and Male Supremacy,” she states, “many of us are saying that prostitution is intrinsically abusive. Let me be clear. I am talking to you about prostitution per se, without more violence, without extra violence, without a woman being hit, without a woman being pushed. Prostitution in and of itself is an abuse of a woman’s body.”18 It is through this genealogy of anti-vice, anti-prostitution, and anti-pornography feminists who deeply believe that any form of sex work is abuse – and inherently rape – of a woman (or individual person) that the conflation of sex work and sex trafficking occurs.
By reviving the conflation of sex work with (sex) trafficking, those who subscribe to the ideas of carceral feminism set up a narrative of women as always exploited if they participate in the sex industry, with no accounting for the women’s own agency. Furthermore, this set up allows for carceral feminists to deny that sex work is work. Language can be further manipulated to deny the labor of sex work in anti-trafficking discourse. Many involved in anti-trafficking efforts will purposely delineate between “labor trafficking” (often referred to as just
“trafficking,”) and “sex trafficking.”19 This effort purposely refuses to acknowledge that those
17 Rebecca Whisnant, “Confronting Pornography: Some Conceptual Basics,” in Not For Sale: Feminists Resisting Prostitution and Pornography, ed., Rebecca Whisnant and Christine Stark, (North Geelong: Spinifex Press, 2004), 19. 18 Andrea Dworkin, “Prostitution and Male Supremacy,” Michigan Journal of Gender and Law 1, no. 1 (1993): 1- 12, accessed March 3, 2018, https://repository.law.umich.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=https://www.google.com/&httpsredir=1&article=1191 &context=mjgl. 19 It is helpful and important to note that there is a difference between carceral feminism-influenced anti-trafficking activists/scholars/NGOs and rights-based anti-trafficking activists/scholars/NGOs. While the latter is a midpoint on 15 who are experiencing forced labor in the sex industry forced are having their labor exploited, just the same as those forced to work on a fishing boat or in an agricultural field. All are instances of violence, manipulation, and exploitation, but only non-sex work is recognized as a labor issue.20
The word “trafficking” itself is a large part of the problem. “Trafficking” as a word is vague and nebulous – easily malleable. While some organizations define or equate it to “modern- day slavery,” others conflate it with only forced labor in the sex sector or with sex work altogether. As Zimmerman has stated, “condemnation of commercial sex is easier than having a sustained critique of the global labor system.”21 As a result, I found myself struggling with the word “trafficking.” Of course, I use it to describe the law and legal text addressing trafficking.
However, many sex worker activists prefer the term not to be used at all, preferring the term
“forced labor” or “forced sexual labor” to encompass both the exploitation occurring in other industries while simultaneously acknowledging the labor of sex work.22 Carol Leigh, in personal correspondence with me, has noted the difficulty this language causes activists. Some organizations despise the use of the word “trafficking,” while others are appalled if one does not acknowledge that trafficking does occur across the globe. Even governmental organizations that would like to work with activists like Carol identify themselves as an “Anti-Trafficking Task
Force.” I certainly do not intend to come across as not acknowledging the occurrence of forced labor, but I recognize that the use of the word “trafficking” does imply a phenomenon happening
the spectrum of conflating sex work and sex trafficking, rights-based anti-trafficking activists/scholars/NGOs do acknowledge and support the need for decriminalizing sex work and sex workers’ rights. 20 Carol Leigh notes that the San Francisco Sex Work and Trafficking Task Force is working on trying to introduce a labor framework to understand sex work as labor, but that the task force is met with legal barriers. For more information, see: Minouche Kandel, Sarah Chen Small, and Rachael Chambers, “3rd Human Trafficking in San Francisco Report: Data from 2016,” issued April 2018. http://sfgov.org/dosw/sites/default/files/3rd%20Human%20Trafficking%20Report.pdf 21 Yvonne Zimmerman, "Speaker Series Yvonne Zimmerman," (YouTube, 2016). 22 Carol Leigh, personal correspondence, July 2017. 16 on a grand, global scale by numbers of millions (which researchers have debunked) and evokes images of “sex trafficking” or “modern day slavery.”23 As of now, I have decided to use “forced sex/ual labor” and “forced labor” as much as possible, and use “trafficking,” “labor trafficking,” and “sex trafficking” when applicable as I discuss anti-trafficking legislation or when someone identifies themselves as a trafficking victim.
Carceral Feminism
The theoretical framework which guides my understanding of those who perpetuate and imbue certain ideas into anti-trafficking discourse and legislation domestically in the United
States is “carceral feminism,” a term coined by sociologist Elizabeth Bernstein in 2010.24 I understand carceral feminism to be a corrupted strain of feminist ideology which understands incarceration, criminality, the prison system, policing, and state violence as a means to achieve social control. For example, a certain line of feminist thinking (recalling Dworkin) understands all sex work to be abusive and exploitative – thus in order to expunge all sex work, an individual subscribing to notions of carceral feminism might argue for criminalizing sex work and any behavior related to it. Another individual who utilizes notions of carceral feminism might argue for the “Nordic model” (also known as the “end-demand” approach) of regulating sex work, in which selling sex is decriminalized but purchasing sex is criminalized. To mention just one reason why this approach is not favored by sex worker activists, the Nordic model results in driving the sex industry underground, putting sex workers in dangerous situations.25 In past scholarship, especially in the 1990s and early 2000’s, feminists who subscribed to the logics of
23 Gregory Mitchell, "Evangelical Ecstasy Meets Feminist Fury: Sex Trafficking, Moral Panics, and Homonationalism during Global Sporting Events," GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies 22, no. 3 (2016): 325. 24 Elizabeth Bernstein, “Militarized Humanitarianism Meets Carceral Feminism: The Politics of Sex, Rights, and Freedom in Contemporary Antitrafficking Campaigns,” Signs 36, no. 1 (2010): 47. 25 Ronald Weitzer and Melissa Ditmore, “Sex Trafficking: Facts and Fiction,” Sex for Sale:Prostitution, Pornography, and the Sex Industry ed., Ronald Weitzer (New York: Routledge, 2010), 322. 17 carceral feminism were called “radical feminists.”26 However, this name is rather confusing, given the variety of radical feminisms that exist. As a result of this consideration, I will be referring to contemporary anti-vice, anti-pornography, anti-prostitution, and radical feminists – those feminists who seek social control through carceral means – as carceral feminists and as
“those who subscribe to the logics of carceral feminism,” since many of these individuals would likely not identify with the term. I understand carceral feminists to be the updated, millennial version of their predecessors, continuing to build the convolution and co-optation of language, working for NGOs and non-profit foundations, and partnering with politicians, wealthy philanthropists, politicians, and Evangelical Christians who seek social control as well.27 Carceral feminism manifests through the discourse of anti-trafficking in law to criminalize sex workers today.
Legislation as a framework for study This project utilizes sex work and anti-trafficking discourse as a means through which carceral feminism can be analyzed, as well as understanding anti-trafficking legislation to be a means through which ideas from carceral feminism can be implemented in law. While those involved in sex worker rights activism and research would not agree “when the trafficking issue began,” 1988 was a turning point. That year, Women Against Pornography, an anti-prostitution radical (carceral) feminist organization most famous for its involvement in the “sex wars” of the
1970s, and one of its founders, Laura Lederer, helped fund and organize a conference that would define trafficking as “globalized prostitution” and turned carceral feminists’ focus away from
26 Elizabeth Bernstein, “Militarized Humanitarianism Meets Carceral Feminism: The Politics of Sex, Rights, and Freedom in Contemporary Antitrafficking Campaigns,” Signs 36, no. 1 (2010). 27 In personal correspondence, Carol Leigh has noted, “I think it's interesting that even the well meaning anti- traffickers who are vaguely sensitive to sex worker issues still don't mind focusing 100% on black pimps exploiting young women. I am thinking of my San Francisco experience.” Carol Leigh, personal correspondence via Google Docs edits, April 19, 2018.
18 domestic pornography and toward international sex trafficking.28 By turning their attention to a seemingly humanitarian effort, carceral feminists sought to gain more credibility and collaborators. As carceral feminists further developed the rhetoric around trafficking, other groups like Evangelical Christians who seek social control over the bodies and lives of others also began to take up the issue as well. Here, I specify “Evangelical Christians who seek social control over the bodies and lives of others” to indicate that not all who identify and/or live as
Evangelical Christians are involved in anti-trafficking work. By the early 1990s, President Bill
Clinton formed the Interagency Council on Women (PICW) and named Madeline Albright and
Hilary Clinton as co-chairs. This council was essentially centralized into a “woman’s office,” and spearheaded the administration’s anti-trafficking efforts, creating space and location for governmental action.29
In the meantime, Michael Horowitz, a fellow at the Hudson Institute and a “moral entrepreneur,” had successfully spearheaded the effort to pass the International Religious
Freedom Act in 1998. He viewed a bill on trafficking to be a “natural follow up” to this older bill.30 Horowitz pulled together Republican politicians, carceral feminist organizations, and
Evangelical Christian organizations to form a new coalition that would fight sex trafficking, which he understood while reading newspapers.31 This coalition would prove not only powerful, but zealous. Professor of Christian Ethics Yvonne Zimmerman explains this trio’s fascination:
Sex trafficking is something that Americans love to hate. By condemning sex trafficking,
28 Crystal A. Jackson, Jennifer J. Reed, and Barbara G. Brents, “Strange Confluences: Radical Deminism and Evangelical Christianity as Drivers of US Neo-Abolitionism,” in Feminism, Prostitution, and the State: The Politics of Neo-Abolitionism, ed. Eilís Ward and Gillian Wylie, Routledge Series in Gender and Global Politics (Oxon: Routledge, 2017), 70. 29 Jackson, Reed, and Brents, 71. 30 Ibid., 72. The International Religious Freedom Act created a left wing – right wing coalition of human rights and religious NGOs, granting US agencies the power to sanction countries and to protect individuals who were defined as being persecuted on account of their religion. 31 Courtney D. Campbell, “Don’t Shout Too Loud,” (Portland: Changing Directions Films, 2013). 19
we feel principled. There is something about standing firm with moral clarity against sex trafficking that is deeply, morally gratifying and personally satisfying. And I think that it’s important to connect this sense of moral gratification with Christians’ long standing and illustrious history of sexual obsession. Sex is so easily framed as a moral issue.32
This focus on sex trafficking allows policy-makers – elected representatives – to not pass other legislation regarding immigration, or even worse, pass immigration policies that are harmful or even racist.33 A prime example of a distraction might be Bill Clinton’s naming Hillary Clinton and Madeleine Albright as co-chairs of the Inter-Agency Council on Women (PICW).34 By naming the First Lady and Secretary of State – both women – to head this council, Bill Clinton created a distracting spectacle and reinforced their role as women within public service as always already connected to “women’s issues” regardless of their expertise. As I discuss later, many government officials who worked for PICW and subscribed to aspects of carceral feminism would later testify in support of the TVPA.35
However, it would be fallacious to believe this coalition is a new one. As scholar Brian
Donovan notes, a similar coalition existed nearly a century earlier as well: “The White slavery issue created strange alliances among socialists, anarchists, wealthy philanthropists, evangelists, suffragists, and anti-suffragists.”36 The desire for social control over the bodies and lives of sex workers has long existed and has always been racialized, gendered, and classed.37
The strange partnership between carceral feminists, Evangelical Christians who seek
32 Yvonne Zimmerman, "Speaker Series Yvonne Zimmerman," (YouTube, 2016). 33 Crystal A. Jackson, Jennifer J. Reed, and Barbara G. Brents, “Strange Confluences: Radical Feminism and Evangelical Christianity as Drivers of US Neo-Abolitionism,” in Feminism, Prostitution, and the State: The Politics of Neo-Abolitionism, ed. Eilís Ward and Gillian Wylie, (Oxon: Routledge, 2017), 70. 34 Ibid. 35 This will be further discussed in Chapter 2. 36 Donovan, White Slave Crusade, 2. 37 The beginning of the latest iteration of desire for social control over the bodies and lives of sex workers – anti- trafficking discourse – coincides with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the incorporation of Eastern European countries into the European Union. The European fervor of anti-trafficking discourse is connected to the migration of (racialized) bodies within and into the EU. 20 social control over sex workers, knowledge producers (such as academics and journalists who subscribe to the ideology of carceral feminism or the ideology of Evangelical Christians who seek social control), and non-profit foundation leaders initially can be very confusing. However, elucidating the stakeholders in anti-trafficking discourse helps to clarify what ideologies and aims are involved in shaping language, law, and how sex workers are represented. Visualizing how these groups come together can show how they intertwine and work together. In a few pages, Figure 1 will illustrate how these different types of people come together to contribute and utilize anti-trafficking discourse. Of course, some individuals and organizations involved in anti- trafficking discourse may fit into two categories. For example, Christopher Smith – the
Republican lawmaker who introduced the pre-cursor to the TVPA – would fit in both the
Evangelical section as well as the non-profit/NGO/Governmental Organization section (the section which best represents his position as a politician and as serving the public). Another example of a non-profit would include organizations such as the Polaris Project, a non-profit and non-governmental organization which markets itself as “a leader in the global fight to eradicate modern slavery,” that “disrupts the human trafficking networks that rob human beings of their lives and their freedom,” and whose motto is “freedom happens now.”38 The Polaris Project proudly states on its website that it is named “after the North Star that guided slaves to freedom in the U.S,” a point I will discuss more later39
One aspect to note is that those who engage in the logic of Carceral Feminism and
Evangelical Christians who seek social control will never overlap in the diagram. This lack of overlap is due to these two groups rarely leaving public traces of their working together, as it would damage their support base. Their support bases would likely disapprove of – or at least be
38 “About Us,” Polaris Project, last modified 2018, accessed February 26, 2018, https://polarisproject.org/about. 39 Ibid. 21 suspicious of – them working together. However, simple research into the engagement of government task forces or non-profit groups excavates their partnership and collaboration.
To understand the following diagram, note that the arrows represent action. To the left of the arrow is an example of an agent or actor who carries out the action. To the right of the arrow is an example of an action to materialize the ideology, policy, or discourse. See the next page for an example of what these arrows will look like.
22
Action to materialize
Agents/Actors
or
SEE NEXT PAGE FOR FIGURE 1. Indicates those who engage 23 in carceral feminism as a thought process (likely wouldn’t call themselves a carceral feminist).Feminism” This bubble might say, “Promoters of Carceral
Producers” include “Knowledge Academics and Journalists
Producing imagery of
producing commentary S exclude to want not do But
elling products, books, ± Producing