ANGELES CITY, Philippines — The Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency in one night in May took 90 people off the streets of Barangay Balibago, the center of Angeles City’s red-light district, in a clearing operation.
Of those scooped up in the sweep, 50 were minors. Among the adults, 25 tested positive for drugs — in the Philippines, that is often shabu or marijuana.
Six of those who tested positive were sex workers — stigmatized twice over for what they do to earn a living and for what some take to be able to do that.
“Sometimes, I take it if I am tired or lack sleep — so I can work, so I can endure,” Paula*, one of the six sex workers taken to Balay Silangan, the city’s reform center said. She started out as a dancer in a bar in Bulacan but moved back to Angeles after 13 years of that when the bar shut down.
The eldest of 10 siblings, Paula began sex work as a means to support her family. On a regular night, she averages two clients a night at P1,000 each. A chunk of her earnings goes to her siblings and her mother, who doesn’t know what she does for a living.
Rizza*, a 26-year-old pickup girl, was six months pregnant with her fourth child at the time of her rescue. With two more children at home — a third baby died in August 2022 because of a heart condition — she said she has had to keep working on the street to feed her family.
“I was taking drugs when I was pregnant with them,” she said. “But I don’t take drugs when I am breastfeeding.”
This is Rizza’s seventh year working on the street. She spent three years in prison for drug use and had no other means of livelihood when she got out. She said she keeps at is “so I could send my children to school.”
Rizza started working as a pickup girl at 16, walking the streets of Balibago at night to wait for clients. With two children going to school and a baby on the way, her nights out are less frequent—only twice a week to pay the bills.
She stresses that she takes shabu to get through the night and knows the risks of using, saying, “if I get addicted, I will not be able to support my children.”
Like her work as a pickup girl, the drugs are out of necessity and not for fun.
"I cannot be with a customer and just cry the pain away," Rizza says. "I take it so I don't have to think about how I have to do this to support my children."
The Philippines in 2016 launched an aggressive "drug war" that featured heavy enforcement and the near demonization of people whose lives include drugs, who were branded as "addicts" and threatened with death.
Harm reduction advocates like NoBox Philippines founder Inez Feria discourage using words like "addict" and "drug user" because these carry negative connotations for what is a medical problem.
The labeling has effects not just on how people are treated but on how they see themselves as well, Feria said earlier this year. She said that she has worked with community partners who echo statements that they are no longer useful in society after having been labeled as “drug addicts” — a label that become more dangerous because of the "drug war".
This stigma makes it even harder to help people, Feria said, because of the challenges of developing trust and rapport.
“[Because] if you have a society that’s ready to condemn you, again, you’d want to protect yourself… why are we already blaming them, why can’t we see that there are reasons for someone to hesitate in opening up?” she said.
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Risks for 'entertainment workers'
Fields Avenue, also known as Walking Street, is the city’s biggest open secret. Angeles City, adjacent to the old Clark Air Base, developed a reputation for sex tourism, especially for US servicemen from Clark and from nearby Subic Naval Base.
While most of the prostitution happens along Fields because of its proximity to Clark, many sex workers — commonly referred to as “entertainment workers” — are scattered throughout Balibago.
Sex workers in the city — registered freelancers and those based in the district’s bars — are required to sign up for health cards under the local government’s sanitation department. At the hygiene center in Balibago, sanitation officials test workers for sexually-transmitted infections (STIs) and provide contraceptives.
While the hygiene center provides free healthcare for sex workers, Paula still feels discrimination whenever she comes in for a checkup.
“Of course, the shame does not go away. Sometimes, you come in for a pap smear and you know they are whispering about you.”
A 2003 study found that a large number of sex workers in Angeles City were at risk of STIs, with infections more common among unregistered freelance sex workers.
After rehab, a chance at more regular work
The city’s anti-drug abuse council (ACADAC) heads the reform operations, following a “holistic approach.” According to ACADAC chief Ricky Saul, most of the council’s staff are people whose lives used to include drugs. This helps with empathy and understanding for people who have long been labelled as undesirables and burdens to society.
While the sex workers were only supposed to stay at Balay Silangan for two weeks, authorities decided to make them complete the Community-Based Drug Rehabilitation Program, a two-month program originally developed for people on the PDEA’s drug watchlist.
Program director Onyl Torres said CBDRP involves a month of in-patient treatment and another month of aftercare activities requiring the participation of the patients’ families.
ACADAC said in a post in January that part of the program is attendance in support group meetings, which it said "are an important pillar in one's recovery as it tackles feelings and emotions of a former drug-dependent, in a group that best understands them."
The city government promised to help the reform center wards look for jobs after they finish the rehabilitation program at Balay Silangan. Both Paula and Rizza are eager to take up the offer.
Paula used to be a saleslady at a mall, but the pay wasn’t enough to support her family.
Rizza, who took courses in dressmaking and cosmetology while in prison, hopes to put her livelihood training to use.
“I will grab the opportunity. This is my chance,” she said. — Liana Apostol
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This story was produced with the help of a grant from the Drug Policy Reform Initiative