F WORD Volume XII

VOL. XII

DECEMBER2020

WELCOME TO F WORD acknowledges that Montreal is on traditional Haudenosaunee or Kanien'kehà:ka land, but simple land acknowledgments are not enough. We encourage everyone to become informed, to actively resist (neo)colonialism in the many forms it takes, and through the diversity of forms that resistance can take as well. If you are a member of any decolonial project, please know that we are happy to support you in any way we can, whether through collaboration or promotion.

Welcome to VOLUME XII of F WORD, a feminist collective based in Montreal, QC. Through our publication, we aim to provide a platform for the marginalized feminist voices that are underrepresented in our community. Our notion of feminism is not limited to gender politics, but rather extends to all anti-oppresive perspectives. We want our content to reflect these goals and to be a space where people feel safe in sharing their experiences. As well as being a platform for our contributors, we hope F WORD will evolve as a community resource in Montreal and stand as a meeting place for feminists. We are currently working to partner with other groups and organizations that share our anti-oppressive values and interests. If you or a group you are involved in would like to collaborate with F WORD, please e-mail us.

As always, we have the greatest appreciation for all of the support that we receive from our contributors, allies, and readers. We recognize that 2020 has been an overwhelming year for many and hope that you can all take some form of solace in these pages.

Lots of love from the collective!

F WORD seeks to explore feminism in its present-day cultural context as a unifying, anti-oppressive, intersectional force. We seek to provide an accessible community resource through inclusive, constructive multi-media content.

Through our collective's non-hierarchical structure, we aim to challenge and move away from existing systems of oppression.

CONTACT US: fwordmtl@gmail.com

BIENVENUE À F WORD reconnaît que Montréal se situe sur le territoire traditionnel des Haudenosaunee ou Kanien'kehà:ka, mais de simples reconnaissances de territoire ne suffisent pas. Nous encourageons chacun à se renseigner, à résister activement au (néo)colonialisme sous ces nombreuses formes et ce à travers les multiples formes que la résistance peut prendre. Si vous êtes membre d'un projet de décolonisation, sachez que nous sommes heureux de vous soutenir de toutes les manières possibles, que ce soit en collaborant ou en promouvant vos projets.

Bienvenue au VOLUME XII de F WORD, une collective féministe basé à Montréal, QC. Par le biais de notre zine, nous visons à offrir une plateforme aux voix féministes marginalisées et sous-représentées dans notre communauté. Notre notion de féminisme ne se limite pas à la politique de genre, mais s'étend plutôt à toutes les perspectives anti-oppressives. Nous voulons que notre contenu reflète ces objectifs et soit un espace où les gens se sentent en sécurité pour partager leurs expériences. En plus d'être une plateforme pour nos contributeurs, nous espérons que F WORD évoluera en tant que ressource communautaire à Montréal, un point de rencontre pour les féministes. Actuellement, nous cherchons à collaborer avec d'autres organisations qui partagent les mêmes valeurs et intérêts anti-oppressifs que nous. Si vous ou un groupe dans lequel vous êtes impliqué souhaite collaborer avec F WORD, envoyez-nous un e-mail.

Comme toujours, nous apprécions profondement le soutien que nous recevons de nos contributeurs, alliés et lecteurs. L'année 2020 a été une année marquante pour beaucoup et nous espérons que vous pourrez tous trouver une forme de réconfort dans ces pages. Avec tout l'amour de la collective!

F WORD cherche à explorer le féminisme dans son contexte culturel actuel en temps que force unifiante, anti-oppressive et intersectionnelle. Nous cherchons à fournir une ressource communautaire accessible grâce à un contenu multimédia inclusif et constructif. Grâce à la structure non hiérarchique de notre collective, nous cherchons à remettre en question et à nous éloigner des systèmes d'oppression existants.

POUR NOUS CONTACTER: fwordmtl@gmail.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS Drag Ball October 31 by Sophie McCallum.............................................................................5 And I bite him to remind him by Mollie Donohue-Meyer.................................................6 Untitled by Carmin Sherlock.......................................................................................................7 Judy Stories by Julia Loach..........................................................................................................8 Focus by Sophie McCallum..........................................................................................................9 Distortions by Imane Chafi There could be bodies by McEan Taylor..............................................................................10 What is this wicked worm? by McEean Taylor Fly by Imane Chafi.........................................................................................................................11 Consent is Sexy by Annabel Gunn...........................................................................................12 Regression by Richelle Musings Weeds by Richelle Musings........................................................................................................13 Requiem by Lilith Maddox December 3rd by Sophie McCallum.......................................................................................14 Untitled Nude by Carmin Sherlock.........................................................................................15 How to Catch a Star by Richelle Musings Untitled Rainbow by Sophie McCallum.................................................................................16 Unadilla by Sophie McCallum Lyrics in Need of a Tune/My Body, Creaks by Sophie McCallum...............................17 Adam Asa by Brunet-Jailly.........................................................................................................18 Kahina by Imane Chafi................................................................................................................19 Op Ed: Decriminalization of Sex Work by Samantha Lapenna....................................20 Confusion by McEan Taylor......................................................................................................22 Untitled by Carmin Sherlock....................................................................................................23 Untitled by Amna Yusuf.............................................................................................................24 Saw you walking barefoot/Ode to Adrienne Rich by Holly Wethey..........................25 Labels by Alexandra Zybinova..................................................................................................26 The Candy Shop by Carmin Sherlock....................................................................................27 I don’t know if there’s hope by Madi Bode..........................................................................28 Untitled by Amna Yusuf.............................................................................................................29 Janus does a double-take by Sophie McCallum Forgot My Gills by Sophie McCallum....................................................................................30 Lochsa Spoons by Mollie Donohue-Meyer...........................................................................31 Ode to my Menstrual Cup by Shelly Bahng.........................................................................32 It Smells Like Vaginas! by Carmin Sherlock........................................................................33 Watergirls (series) by Maëlle Jacqmarcq...............................................................................34 Notes From Our Artists.......................................................................................................42 Content Warnings are included on each applicable page

Drag Ball October 31

Sophie McCallum

Content Warning: Sexual Trauma, Gore

And I bite him to remind him Over beers last night he talks about the fragility of his hands holds them out in front of us on the table points to the veins by his thumbs.

With his arms outstretched he tells me about working in a kitchen: carrying stacks of hot plates watching those veins reminding himself I play the piano I play The Piano.

Later with his hands on my freezing cold hips he says how his hands turn white in the cold.

So white there is even a name for it.

Knowing his hands are so fragile I wonder why I still spook so easy under them.

With his hands anywhere near me I feel animal.

I am a pitbull and I bite him to remind him.

Mollie Donohue-Meyer

Content Warning: Sexual Trauma, Gore

Sometimes I think there must be a hand stuck inside me.

With his hands inside me (his hands that he says could break at any moment) he asks Is this good and I pray they don’t break off right then I pray he’ll jump back and say “What’s this?” producing a single severed hand “Aha!” I’d say “I knew I’d been feeling something all these years”

Untitled

Carmin Sherlock

JUDY STORIES Julia Loach Judy won’t answer your texts, But it’s nothing personal Her bike brakes are mostly rust They make the blaring sound of a multi-vehicle collision, But she’ll never fix them Judy let me cry on her shoulder during a campus film screening A montage of a family at a beach first got me weepy, I worsened during the scene where the father picks up his only child from school I laughed as her hand surveyed my face for tears in the dark, Popcorn fell on the floor, people stared, But I felt somewhat proud to be mournfully intertwined with her Two years ago, Judy almost knocked me off a chairlift It was an accident – her snowboard clipped mine as we sat down With my chest pressed on the seat, hands gripping the backrest, I saw the ground move five, ten, then twenty feet away By the time I realized I’d break a limb or two if I fell, it didn’t matter, Judy had already hoisted me up while shrieking and giggling I think I owe her something I can never deliver, Me and the rest of the world, that is Something intangible, Something that lingers in the moment before we both drift off to sleep, When two people stop murmuring at the same time, letting each other go for a few immaterial hours I could debate with her, lend her books, pose semi-nude for her paintings, sing about her Yet, it would not replicate the feeling of her kissing me on the cheek, As she does right after telling me not to be heartbroken over someone

Judy’s bedroom has a triple window that looks onto her street Last month, I walked half an hour home from her party, Only to realize I had forgotten my keys and my wallet It was also 3 a.m. and my phone was dead I trudged back to hers and knocked on her window (Banged really, with my full body – she’s a deep sleeper) I had a full explanation and apology prepared, But she simply handed me pyjama bottoms “Time for bed” she said in a tired drawl, I sleep talk, she snores

Focus

Sophie McCallum

Content Warning: Death, Claustrophobia, Isolation

Distortions Imane Chafi

There could be bodies

McEan Taylor

Looking at those lumps while walking I wonder If those bodies under the white-blankets know In their eternal peace are they resting quietly If it’s warm under there because it snowed Looks so cozy but maybe they’re actually Just trapped and we can’t hear them.

They’re Yelling out for someone But we don't come because we fear them We’re in a rush to get inside To our own beds of privilege Weighted down by the guilt in the air The only reminder of things out there

What is this wicked worm?

McEan Taylor What is this wicked worm?

Which expels water and waste, Watches from within a warped cave, Waiting for women to wander in.

What is this wicked worm?

Which walks with a wriggle and, Worn out by the writer’s whining, Wastes away a weekend.

What is this wicked worm?

Which washes itself of willpower and Wraps itself within a woman’s waist, Whether it wants to or not.

What is this wicked worm?

Weathered by waves of wrath, Wondering at what it wants and Why it is willfully participating What is this wicked worm?

Wrecked by misogyny Whipped by ignorance

Fly Imane Chafi

CONSENT IS SEXY Annabel Gunn

Content Warning: Abuse, Gaslighting

Regression Richelle Musings You plucked me From the comfort of my innocence And picked me apart Until I bled between your fingertips And left me mangled between disarrayed sheets Is this how you make love?

Richelle Musings Weeds I watched as he picked apart my petals, Plaguing me with toxic messages, what he believed To be murmurs of validation Paralyzed beneath him I chanted to myself He loves me, he loves me not He loves me, he loves me not To him, I was nothing but a weed A dandelion pretending to be a sunflower

Content Warning: Mental Illness, Substance Use

Requiem

Lilith Maddox

To indulge in sadness, like I do Is a kind of religion Meaning tangled up with masochism No light let in, my ritual Too many full glasses I call communion In this, I evoke my father and fade into that in-between on a Monday night Requiem I am soaked in all the familiar discomforts In the soft glow of my now-inverted world I feel everything imaginable Momentarily close

December 3rd

Sophie McCallum

Untitled Nude

Carmin Sherlock

How to Catch a Star Richelle Musings Oh love, the wind cries your name as the sun begins to set Blood orange skies and clouds shaped like cotton candy beckon your arrival Would you touch the sky with me?

Feel the breeze brush your hair as the dimming Light kisses your forehead gently before slipping Into twilight We can pinch our fingers together as a feeble Attempt to catch a star, while the moon casts a glimmer of light Will you come with me? Will you follow me into the stormy centre of Jupiter?

Untitled Rainbow Sophie McCallum

Unadilla Sophie McCallum

Lyrics in Need of a Tune / My Body, Creaks My body creaks My body creaks My body creaks She cracks then she breaks She holds and she heals You don’t know what she feels You don’t know what she sees I don’t know what is me Could I trace it muscle bone Could I etch it into stone Could I find another bed To lay in till I’m dead To rage and to dream To separate me from me To cry and to curse To sleep until it hurts

My body creaks She is older than me She knows things about the world That I won’t know till it burns Do I know my own body Do I know my own brain Do I quiet her voice Overpower her with my words Replace thought with fiction Replace space with diction My body creaks She is speaking To me

Adam Asa Brunet-Jailly I mold you with my hands and tongue, and water drips down – droplets of dew on the grass at dawn. From the sky the dew came, as did you to me that one morning when you were red and cool and made just for me. I made you. I molded you for myself. Is that wrong? Water too is moveable. Prone to change but powerful when the waves crash down. And aren't you? Quick to change, fluid like painting water; iridescent like the butterfly's wing I saw on the concrete on my way home from school. Do you worry? Worry that the heat will hurt you? That it will seal things in you don't want? That your redness will turn hard and strange.

Is it me? Should I stop?

But when I see you I can't look away.

So I reach out to you. You've grown a hard exterior but your hand is still warm. The dew is gone and the sun is out.

Kahina Imane Chafi

Content Warning: Sexual Assault, Physical Violence

Op Ed: The Importance of the Decriminalization of Sex Work Samantha Lapenna

Sex workers are endangered by the criminalization of their profession.

Legislators unjustifiably allow their emotions to influence policy decision-making and use human trafficking as a red herring fallacy to evoke fear in the public. This depicts prostitutes as prisoners of their profession and completely neglects the concept of bodily autonomy.

Current repressive policies forbid the purchase and/or sale of sex to protect the "ordinary citizen" from this believed-to-be immoral practice and fail to recognize it as a legitimate career. The “common prostitute” is dehumanized by this symbolic and physical separation from the citizenry and consequently will face substantial health and social inequities that will decrease their quality of life.

Nobody should have to jeopardize their safety to earn a living. Sellers must often meet clients alone and in discrete locations because soliciting in groups or on the streets is illegal. This is a violation of their right to public assembly. These workers are three times more likely to experience sexual or physical violence from a client. Also, workers are less inclined to report such events to the authorities because of the stigma associated with their job, and the risk of potential criminal consequences and increased surveillance. Possession of a criminal record creates a significant barrier to finding alternative employment.

Officers and clients use this to coerce prostitutes into performing without pay. This is sexual assault, extortion, and borderline slavery. In the USA, police fine or arrest women who advertise in public places and sometimes use the possession of condoms as supporting evidence. This obliges workers to continue to sell sex to pay off these fines and encourages them to not use protection. As a result, their risk of infection with HIV or another sexually transmitted infection (STI) is doubled, therefore their right to life is violated.

Content Warning: Sexual Assault, Physical Violence

In other cases where the purchase of intercourse is illegal, the customer may not wish to divulge any personal information about himself/herself/themselves for fear of being prosecuted which limits the negotiating power of the sex worker and her ability to press charges should something go wrong. How are these women supposed to trust a government that degrades, punishes, and abuses them? Their lives are in danger.

It is time to decriminalize sex work. Several demands must be met to restore the dignity that was stolen from these individuals. First, sex work must be officially recognized as an occupation. Doing so will enable sex workers to unionize, develop regulations that promote safe working conditions, and assert their rights with employers and consumers.

Positive public recognition will also reduce the stigma associated with the job which will improve overall accessibility to social and health services. As a result, condom access and use will increase which will decrease the rate of unplanned pregnancies and the transmission and infection of HIV and other STIs. Secondly, political leaders must establish a collaborative government that prioritizes the involvement of sex workers in policymaking, includes participatory research, and ensures that their human rights are honored. Also, police will no longer be able to intimidate or blackmail these women in exchange for services because unlawful actions involving abuse of power will be reported. This reinstatement of political autonomy will improve their access to justice and subsequently reduce the threat of abuse and violence. Thirdly, authorities must revoke the sex offender status of individuals who were previously convicted of prostitution. This will help them find other employment if they wish to do so, regain parental custody, and make them eligible to receive loans, educational scholarships, or public housing. Sex-workers are equals, not second-class citizens. Act now.

Original contained citations, see Notes From Our Artists for bibliography.

Content Warning: Gender Dysphoria

Confusion

McEan Taylor

Every time I look at you I see the things I can’t do Every time you look at me I wonder what it is you see

If I’m fem enough If I’m fem enough Am I meant to love Am I meant to love

Am I fem enough Am I fem enough Am I meant to love Am I meant to love

Get across that water Before it’s too late Escape this world of slaughter Where no one can relate

You look to me as if to say What will go wrong on this day?

Passions come and passions go But you look to me as if I know

What is the plan What is the plan Am I that man Am I a Man

Untitled

Carmin Sherlock

Untitled

Amna Yusuf

SAW YOU WALKING BAREFOOT/ ODE TO ADRIENNE RICH Holly Wethey Saw you walking barefoot last night, face pressed against the glass and to me, this moment was everything; complète dans son incomplétude, certaine dans son incertitude, whole.

If you are looking for me, I have gone back home.

Together, we've gotten tucked into a faint ping not sure where it is leading, following it like a submarine's tracking device, parsing the air with its echo. Saw you walking barefoot and je me réveille: half-conscious, but not oblivious.

On s'est mis à réécrire; sur le point de partir en mission, une soumission: there was nothing more for me to translate. je le dirai encore: last night, saw you walking barefoot and I am awake but half-conscious, asleep but not oblivious of the unslept unsleeping elsewhere.

Content Warning: mental illness, medication

Labels

Alexandra Zybinova

Institution defined as an organization founded to serve society In other words a label maker.

Whatever the costs of the label, its justifiable The necessity of it is undeniable if i am not a high functioning citizen and fail to be a good patient if my mind rejects all of the labels I could be anything.

I could be A rogue nihilist A secret revolutionary A radical individual the only solution is to neutralize print me a label and make it stick.

I tell the story over and over to people who pretend to give a shit again, i am declared unfit to be myself they say You’re in a desperate need of a label Its the only way.

The institution will help me by getting me under control and explaining me to me and how i ought to be With this label.

I am now classified.

My label is proof that my feelings are justified.

With new label come new requirements and ignoring my minds alarm sirens Here comes the annual audit Trusting that its methods are infallible I wonder what will it be this time I make myself small and malleable depressed, anxious, crazy A hundredth attempt to leave my feelings behind I get a new label every year I contort my body and mind They say I’m one of the lucky ones.

My muscles tear and my bones crack But I cant take another setback Every year im turned inside out I declare every detail of my life So I commit myself to the label cooperate with the inspection of my past My head is the operating table provide the data of my pain Where institution models my new personality reveal everything thats in my brain the label is now my reality To be judged and analyzed measured and quantified Im nothing special you see labeled just another depressed millennial and therefore served, by the institution.

Carmin Sherlock

Content Warning: Mental Illness

I Don't Know If There's Hope I wasn’t cut out.

I wasn’t cut out for this world.

Imagined I’d conquer all and a third.

Madi Bode I don’t know if there’s hope at the end of the day.

It’s not like we’re granted much choice anyway.

But I wasn’t cut out.

I wasn’t carved out of stone.

And I’ve started to notice frailty striping my bones.

So for now I will stay.

Even if there is no hope—

One last detail In a world so big and doomed: Does anyone wake up every goddamn day fully Feels like the world has caught on fire. in tune Scratch that, it’s been burning for a while. with a positive outlook?

Feels like the world has caught on fire.

What does it all mean?

Scratch that, it’s been burning for a while.

It doesn’t mean a thing That you made it to the fin (you’re gonna die I don’t know if there’s hope at the end of anyway). the day.

It’s not like we’re granted much choice I would gladly confiscate anyway.

First spot in the lineup at the gate.

So for now I will stay.

Even if there is no hope— Said, I would gladly confiscate First spot in the lineup at the gate.

I'm bubbling down.

I’m running out of substance, I don’t know if there’s hope at the end of the As the music to one last dance diminishes. day.

It’s not like we’re granted much choice anyway.

And I’ve been looking in (and out) So for now I will stay.

With the most narrowed eyes.

Even if there is no hope, Maybe that’s why, that’s why I swing dramatic way too fast.

That said, I’d rather perish than last.

I swing dramatic way too fast.

That said, I’d rather perish than last.

I survived yesterday, So some small part of me’s brave; Suffice it to say: Should I stay?

I Just may.

Untitled

Amna Yusuf

Content Warning: Mental Illness, Medication

Janus does a double-take

Forgot My Gills

Sophie McCallum

I went for a swim the other day Cause I thought I was a fish I opened up my gills, and realized they were just frills I’d stuck onto my neck with some sticky tack And I got this pressure in my head And they say it’s cause I’m off my meds So I tried to breathe But really it’s just that I’m down 6,000 feet deep And my mouth filled with the sea So I sunk down deep Cause there’s no more air left in me Oh my, the seafloor sure is quiet

Oh I thought I was a fish It was my final wish And in the end it was realized Cause here I am Floating an inch off the sand To add onto time Just like all my other fisher-mans

Content Warning: Drug/Substance Use

Lochsa Spoons

Mollie Donohue-Meyer

He has his back to me but I can still smell new drugs on his clothes And I can still tell it’s a self portrait he’s drawing “Boy snorting coke of a coffee table” There and then not there Gone All these years gone he says and shrugs It is hard to see him sober.

He is baking a cake coating it in frosting Demetri is giving him new pills.

He is thanking Demetri and taking them and vomiting.

Yellowstone National Park Drove straight through it didn’t stop once Write about the hard thing she said Let it tear you a little bit apart Idaho, fire-blackened hillsides and the Lochsa river making spoons out of rocks Idaho and deer running in front of the truck Hit one and see Hit one and shake things up: a Lochsa spoon carving out my breast plate like you’d carve out a pumpkin or a squash You’re going to need a sharper spoon and you’re going to need a knife and you’re going to need to find someone to drive my truck home for me, Figure I’ll walk to the liquor store.

Ode to My Menstrual Cup Shelly Bahng

Like me, you are foreign to this pale land cleansed before you enter, you know you’re better than those scented pads and plastic shooter tampons the ones that make my lower abdomen crush harder for no scientifically proven reason my mother would rather dig through the web for 100% organic cotton pads than choose you but I do I trust the scent of thick iron the fact that I can grasp a day’s worth of suffering in my hand you are the most intrusive yet private thing I own Own. that’s what I feel with you that I Own this.

every time I say “this is the worst period I’ve ever had,” it is true every. single. time. but of course I wasn’t brought up on “the worst is over” but rather “the worst is coming” no, actually, “the worst is always” and to add, “the worst is you” and I’m not allowed to scream simply fold it up and rub soap on it as you would with blood-stained white sheets some time ago I took notice the best yellers were also the best singers so, then I practiced to sing, my lungs exercise, while my body stands still. still, still, still, it starts again still, it goes away still, it comes again still, still, still, I am here with every pulse, I know the blood flows.

Carmin Sherlock

Maëlle Jacqmarcq

slrigretaW

They are showing themselves, they are subjects not objects, subjects of their own lives, of their thoughts and visions and emotions. The anonymity provided by not showing faces hopefully empowers us all to recognize our individual beauty and strength. Our physical differences, rather than being compared, create a collective melting pot of shared beauty. These women own their image and share with us their own subjectivity, and their depiction is neither reduced by my vision nor the audience’s eye. Like water, these women are fluid, strong, beautiful, cyclical, full of life, powerful, independent and necessary.

Watergirls

Watergirls

slrigretaW

Notes From Our Artists Alexandra Zybinova Alexandra Zybinova is a McGill student pursuing a degree in Russian Literature and Gender, Sexuality, Feminist, and Social Justice Studies. Hopping between Montreal and the West coast, she continuously explores the mediums of photography and poetry. @Alexandra.daria_z Julia Loach Julia is a huge fan of Cronenberg and eggnog in coffee. When she is not professionally making maps, she writes and records music in her closet.

Asa Brunet-Jailly Asa is a McGill undergrad studying various kinds of literature. She loves her idealized self, Irish Breakfast tea, and any and all animals. When looking for her, check bathtubs and fountains first.

Holly Wethey Holly Wethey is studying English Literature at McGill University.

She enjoys dried flowers and public fountains.

RichelleMusings (She/They) I go by Richelle Musings, and I am trying my best to live my life authentically by allowing myself to heal at my own pace. I am passionate Imane Chafi about reading, writing poetry, and Imane Chafi is a software advocating for mental health. Also, I engineering undergraduate student have an ever-growing collection of at McGill. In her free time, she likes books and crystals! Writing has always to paint symbolistic art using oil and been a therapeutic outlet for me, watercolor and enjoys hot chocolate poetry being the strongest medium on rainy afternoons while reading that connects me to me. Since her favorite books. For more rediscovering my voice I have been information about the art pieces, incredibly driven to use both means to you can follow her on Instagram and advocate for my beliefs and personal Youtube @flowepaint healing. If you would like to connect and follow my journey as well you can do so through Instagram @richellemusings or my website musingstheywrote.com!

Notes From Our Artists Samantha Lapenna My name is Samantha Lapenna but everybody calls me Sam which I prefer because it is both a simple and gender-neutral name. I am a cisgender woman, a proud feminist, a passionate animal biologist, big-sister, dogmom, and spoken-word poetry artist. I was born and raised in Montreal, Canada to English-speaking parents of European ancestry. I recognized my privilege from an early age and my awareness continued to grow as I did. I hope to reach people in my words and in my work so that nobody feels forgotten or alone. I think it is our duty to spread kindness wherever we go, whenever we can. I wrote this opinion piece on the decriminalization of sex work to raise awareness on how the legality and language that currently surrounds the profession endanger its workers. I hope that my piece may start a discussion and lead to policy changes that better protect these individuals and ceases to treat them as second-class citizens.

Bibliography for Op-ed Abel G: The Problem with Sex Work Policies. Archives of Sexual Behavior 2019, 48(7):1925-1929.2.

Talks T: What do sex workers want? | Juno Mac In: TEDxEastEnd. 2016.3.

Graham L: Governing Sex Work Through Crime:Creating the Context for Violence and Exploitation. The Journal of Criminal Law 2017, 81(3):201-216.4.

McCarthy B, Benoit C, Jansson M: Sex Work: A Comparative Study. Archives of Sexual Behavior 2014, 43(7):1379-1390.5.

Goldenberg SM, Chettiar J, Nguyen P, Dobrer S, Montaner J, Shannon K: Complexities of Short-Term Mobility for Sex Work and Migration among Sex Workers: Violence and Sexual Risks, Barriers to Care, and Enhanced Social and Economic Opportunities. Journal of Urban Health 2014, 91(4):736-751.6.

10 Reasons to Decriminalize Sex Work. In. Online Open Society Foundations 2015: 12.7.

Rights YfH: United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights Simplified Version. In. Los Angeles, CA, USA: United for Human Rights International: 48.8.

Boseley S: Criminalisation of sex work normalises violence, review finds. In: The Guardian. Online: Guardian News & Media Limited or its affiliated companies; 2018.

Scarred Imane Chafi