The Canadian Grand Prix roared into town this weekend, but one group was making its noise off the track. The Sex Work Autonomous Committee mobilized a strike of Montreal’s sex workers to coincide with the festivities, purposefully choosing a time when the city’s hospitality economy is at full throttle.
I spoke with Nikki, a spokesperson for the group who preferred that her real name not be used for privacy reasons, about what they’re demanding and how those demands intersect with something we rarely discuss in this context: personal finance.
According to Nikki, their demand is simple: to be recognized as workers.
Sex workers have always lived among us, despite the stigma that pushes them to the margins. As Canadian sex-work activist Valerie Scott once said: “The odds are strong you may have known at least one for a long time.”
In personal finance, advice is usually straightforward: build credit, save for emergencies, contribute to retirement. But criminalization and stigma push sex workers out of this equation. Without employment status, they struggle to rent apartments, qualify for mortgages or even contribute to RRSPs. Much of their income is in cash, which loses its value over time to inflation.
Not all of Montreal’s sex workers are on board with the idea of becoming employees. In fact, many favour the status quo as independent contractors.
As a massage parlour worker, Nikki pays her management a 35 per cent fee for every client, which sounds excessive until you learn that the cut at other establishments can reach 65 per cent. Exotic dancers often pay flat nightly fees of $100 or more, meaning they can end a shift owing money.
If sex workers were recognized as employees, these fees could be regulated or collectively bargained. As independent contractors, they have no leverage, which can often lead to them being exploited.
Sex workers need these protections for the same reasons everyone else does. Many are parents — Nikki estimates a third of her colleagues are, and a 2020 British survey found the number could be as high as 70 per cent. Injuries are common — dancers break ankles; massage workers develop chronic joint and muscle pain; all face the risk of physical or verbal abuse from clients.
For most workers, these incidents trigger a social safety net. For sex workers, they trigger a financial crisis.
Opponents of decriminalizing sex work often point to exploitation as a reason to maintain the status quo. Exploitation exists — Nikki is the first to say so. But we apply this logic unevenly.
Temporary foreign farm workers in Canada routinely report abuse, unsafe conditions and wage theft. Yet we don’t criminalize farm work. We regulate it, and we allow workers to participate in the social programs their labour helps fund.
Sex workers are asking for the same treatment.
For Nikki and her colleagues, being recognized as workers isn’t about avoiding taxes. It’s the opposite. They want their contributions to support the very programs they’re currently shut out of. As Nikki put it, the hefty fees they pay to management are “definitely not paying any contributions that will protect (sex workers).” If they’re going to pay, they’d rather pay into a system that benefits workers.
And this is where the Grand Prix link is almost comical.
We live in a world where the wealthiest citizens are criminally undertaxed. During the 2012 Canadian Grand Prix in Montreal, former F1 racer and local hero Jacques Villeneuve scolded Quebec’s student protesters as lazy and entitled, warning they might scare away wealthy taxpayers. This from a man who, according to media reports at the time, declared only a few thousand dollars in taxable income in Quebec while holding millions of dollars in offshore tax havens.
For this year’s Grand Prix, a stigmatized and marginalized workforce banded together to use their platform to lobby to pay their fair share of taxes and participate fully in society.
I find that refreshing.
Do you have a personal finance question? Send it to Carlo Valle at advisor@delta-finance.ca.