The Sex Industry in New Zealand: A Literature Review

Part I: The Sex Industry in New Zealand

Introduction and methodology
Background
Definitions of terms
History of the sex industry in New Zealand
Size, structure and organisation
Sex workers: characteristics and backgrounds
Entry into sex work
Motivations underlying entry into the sex industry
Drugs and child sexual abuse
Managing the impacts of involvement in sex work
Male sex workers
Transgendered sex workers
Illegal immigrants and prostitution
Exiting sex work
Clients: characteristics and motivations
Sex worker safety
Sex worker exploitation
Health issues
Control and empowerment issues
Prostitution and organised crime
Prostitution of persons under 18
Sex tourism
Initial responses to legislation change
Overview

Transgendered sex workers

Being a transvestite or transsexual places one at the margins. One of the first New Zealand studies to explore this phenomenon was conducted by then policeman Rana Waitai, who observed in the early 1980s that 60-70 drag queens were visibly apparent in Wellington, some of whom worked as prostitutes (Waitai, 1983). Sex workers who are transgendered are one of the most vulnerable groups because to many they are perceived as doubly deviant. Transsexuals internationally have found it virtually impossible to gain employment in massage parlours, and the difficulties of obtaining any kind of employment probably meant that disproportionately higher numbers worked in the prostitution arena. In Sydney a study of 164 transgender people indicated that 45% had spent some time working in the sex industry, with 70% of these having worked on the street (Perkins, 1994, cited in Harcourt et al, 2001).

Particularly significant amongst this group were high instances of drug-taking, low self-esteem, and adverse experiences of violence and assault.

For many years the visible sex industry in New Zealand was characterised by transgendered workers operating in the ‘red-light’ streets of our major cities. In the 1970s and 1980s some also articulated a need to earn large sums of money any way they could in order to be able to fly to Australia for a ‘nip and tuck’. The flamboyant dress and behaviour of many transgendered workers and their high public visibility contributed to their vulnerability to street violence and police arrest.

The most celebrated transgendered sex worker in New Zealand at this time was Carmen, who has written at length of her experiences in the strip and drag scene of Wellington as well as her later years in Sydney (Carmen, 1988). More recently, Georgina Beyer has also made her autobiography accessible, detailing her experiences of working in the sex industry in her youth. The fact that legally she was a male meant that, on the one occasion she was arrested, she could not be charged with prostitution but was instead deemed to be ‘a rogue and a vagabond’ and was charged with ‘frequenting with felonious intent’ (Beyer, 1999). In a speech supporting prostitution law reform just prior to its third reading in the House, she attributed part of her support for the Bill to her own background and understanding of the issues. In a moving speech to the House, she stated that she was voting for the bill for all the prostitutes she had known who had died before the age of 20, adding:

This bill provides people like me at that time with some form of redress for the brutalisation that may happen in a situation when you are with a client and you have a knife pulled on you ... It would have been nice to have known instead of having to deal out justice myself to that person, I may have been able to approach ... the police in this case and say "I was raped". (Georgina Beyer, quoted in The Dominion Post, 26/6/03).

The New Zealand Prostitutes’ Collective currently operates a project specifically providing advice and support services for transgendered sex workers.

Illegal immigrants and prostitution

Growing concern has been expressed internationally regarding the ways in which women from economically disadvantaged situations may be vulnerable to trafficking and exploitation within the sex industries of wealthier nations. In New Zealand much of the concern articulated has been related in particular to the employment of Thai and Filipino women. Their participation in the New Zealand sex industry is facilitated in part by their geographical proximity to this country, but is also fuelled by the demands of local men for Asian women. The number of Thai women entering the New Zealand sex industry increased dramatically in a four to five year period from the late 1980s to the early 1990s (Townsend, 1992b).

There are obvious difficulties surrounding research with these workers, including language difficulties, cultural modesty, and the fears exacerbated by their dependency on sponsors or business operators, often enhanced further by their typically illegal status. Fear of deportation means most workers avoid contact with official services and are difficult to reach with health information and services (Townsend, 1992b). The New Zealand Prostitutes’ Collective has,

at various times, been able to employ Thai women to work within this community and establish an outreach programme, although this has been difficult to sustain.

In response to estimates of 500 Thai women working as prostitutes in Auckland, and a client reporting infection, a special Thai medical centre was established in October 1991 for Thai workers in Auckland’s parlours, escort agencies and go-go bars (Townsend, 1992b). Opposition came from parlour owners and the women themselves, with the latter fearing links to immigration services. A Thai-registered nurse who had worked in an education programme for prostitutes in Thailand was employed in the clinic and confidence grew in its services. A health adviser describing the clinic to a New Zealand Venereological Conference noted that most of the workers came from poverty-stricken areas to the north and north-east of Thailand, an area in which 40 per cent of brothel-based prostitutes were HIV-positive according to a medical study conducted there (Townsend, 1992b). Some women were bought from their families for approximately $700. Most who came to New Zealand were supporting children or parents, with many being widows struggling to pay large family debts. Agents approached these women offering to lend them the airfare to New Zealand, where work would be arranged for them. In exchange, they must repay the fare plus an additional tax of $3000 or more. In the past some women have genuinely believed that they will be working in Thai restaurants here, rather than the sex industry, but this happens rarely now. However, some parlour owners may exploit them, expecting them to work seven days a week and up to 14 hours per shift. The women themselves typically see only a small percentage of what they earn. The economic pressures on these women can result in some being prepared to accept more money for sex without a condom. Those running the health clinic noted:

Our experience is that most parlour owners expect women to keep working even when they have an STD. (quoted in Townsend, 1992b, 4).

This earlier picture of the circumstances surrounding Thai sex workers was largely replicated in subsequent research. A Thai student in Women’s Studies conducted her PhD research by interviewing thirty former and current Thai prostitutes in Thailand and New Zealand (Menasveta, 2002). This study illustrated the poverty underlying most of the women’s entry into prostitution, and their beliefs that the pains experienced would be the price they paid to be able to provide financial security for themselves and their families. The fact that this was never realised was a major source of frustration and despair, which many attempted to offset through alcohol and gambling. One woman, while working in New Zealand, claimed to spend up to $1000 a night in the local casino (Menasveta, 2002, 200). None of the women who came to New Zealand believed they had any significant hope of leaving prostitution through education and training for alternative careers. Instead, most felt that finding one affluent partner to support them was the option most likely to bring financial security. However, Menasveta also found that some women who had become ‘mail-order brides’ ended up re-entering prostitution when their marriages failed and they felt they had no other economically viable option. She also found most of these marriages had been characterised by heavy dependency of the women on their husbands while the latter often responded with behaviours characterised by physical and mental abuse, excessive demands for sex, insufficient economic support, and infidelity. If sex traffickers organised a woman’s trip to New Zealand, the woman is usually liable for repaying her fare through large deductions from her pay (up to 40% is regarded as ‘considerate’ by traffickers) (Menasveta, 2002).

In mid-1999, a New Zealand Police report into the sex industry indicated that several hundred women were employed in the sex industry in this country who were neither New Zealand citizens nor New Zealand permanent residents (CEDAW, 2002). The overwhelming majority (approximately 500 in Auckland and 100 across the rest of the country) were of Thai nationality. It was considered that reintroducing visitor visas for Thai nationals from 2001 would reduce the number of women entering New Zealand to work in the sex industry.

CEDAW’s (Convention for the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women) 2002 report further noted that the incidence of trafficking of women appears to have diminished in recent years, probably as a result of several joint Police/Immigration Service operations in the mid-1990s which led to a number of employers being prosecuted on brothel-keeping and slavery charges. However, the difficulties of ascertaining reliable information in this field were noted.

New Zealand Prostitutes’ Collective (NZPC) and Shakti (the Asian Women’s Refuge) continue to work together with Government agencies to assist women who are being exploited, especially vulnerable foreign nationals. A "Pink Sticker Project" was introduced in 1999 by the Auckland City Council and the Human Rights Commission, working in conjunction with Police, Immigration, ECPAT (End Child Prostitution and Trafficking), Shakti, and the Thai Embassy. The stickers were used to advertise, in English and Thai, a safe house and telephone hotline set up to assist illegal female workers. Since its inception, the Human Rights Commission has helped a number of Thai women to leave the New Zealand sex industry and return to Thailand (CEDAW, 2002).

It should be noted, however, that there are now many Thai women working who are well-established in their own right within the sex industry. Outreach workers with NZPC report that there is now greater stability within this sector of the industry, and that they have regular and considerable interaction with Thai workers in both Auckland and Wellington in particular.

Also noted in recent years has been an increase in the number of Chinese women working in the New Zealand sex industry. A growing number of parlours are being operated by Chinese migrant workers, predominantly in the Auckland area (Information obtained from NZPC).

Exiting sex work

Considerably more literature has been devoted to explaining entry into sex work than describing exiting decisions and experiences. Resuming a so-called ‘ordinary’ life holds less allure for researchers than exploring reasons for adopting, and paths into, a ‘deviant’ lifestyle. Of relevance is the likelihood that most former sex workers take pains to blend back into mainstream society, and hence lack visibility.

Understanding movement out of the industry is critically important, however, given the oft-cited concerns that it is a difficult industry from which to exit. This was enhanced, until recently, by the existence of legislation which effectively locked sex workers into sex work. This impact resulted in part from the difficulties sex workers encountered in declaring the nature of their occupation, in managing the impacts of having received any prostitution-related convictions, and in living a stigmatised and often publicly condemned identity.

Some sex workers describe not so much being pulled or drawn out of the industry as feeling pushed out when the nature of the work intruded too heavily on their sense of self (Jordan, 1991c). Should their ability to manage or cope with a changing array of clients fade or disappear, the job would often become more than they could bear. One Wellington sex worker from the early 1970s described this process when she commented:

Basically I never liked what I was doing, and I guess I never quite got over the hang-up about being a prostitute and all that it means. I tried to pretend I didn’t give a stuff about what people thought of me, but underneath I really did. I’ve been in the scene for almost five years and I just got so sickened by it, in the end I just had to get out. I’m only twenty and I feel as though I’m forty-eight. I feel like an old, old lady. (quoted in Kedgley and Cederman, 1972, 115).

Until recently, a major barrier to exiting the industry arose from the illegalities associated with prostitution involvement. Receiving a prostitution-related conviction remained with a worker throughout the rest of her/his life, affecting subsequent employment, travel, and financial options (Jordan, 1993d). The Massage Parlours Act 1978 posed particular problems by stipulating that no person with prostitution-related convictions could work in parlours for ten years subsequent to their receiving such a conviction.

A requirement for massage parlour licensees to keep a list of the correct names, birth dates, and addresses of all persons working in their establishments was later used by the New Zealand Police when establishing a registration scheme for sex workers. Under section 19 of the Act, the police were given the right to inspect and copy any such list. From 1991 onwards, this was expanded by police in various parts of the country into their own local registration schemes. They began decreeing that any sex workers working in massage parlours and advertising in newspapers should be required to register with them before they were entitled to work or advertise in those newspapers (Palmer and Reed, 2001). Palmer and Reed note that the majority of the daily newspapers in the larger cities have since complied with police requests that they do not accept advertisements for the adult entertainment columns unless the person has registered with the police.

The registration scheme has been criticised for being yet another method of discrimination against sex workers, and several significant breaches of privacy have been reported (ibid.). One sex worker, for instance, asked to be removed from the register when she left to go overseas for an extended period, but on her return found herself still on the register. In another case, the police allegedly pressured a woman whose name was on the register to drop a complaint of rape or have the information on the register given to her parents (ibid.). In addressing her concerns to the Select Committee, one young woman who partially funded her degree qualifications through sex work noted the difficulties of ever being able to truly leave the sex industry behind while her personal details remained on a police register of prostitutes (PRB 107A, 2001). Such concerns resurfaced early in 2004 when it became apparent that, despite the law changes of 2003, the New Zealand Police continued to keep personal information about sex workers on a national database (Dominion Post, 5/4/04). Quoted in the article was a Wellington brothel manager who commented that many sex workers were students trying to avoid debt:

One day they could become the chief executive of Telecom and they don’t want this sort of information lying around when it’s no longer required. (Dominion Post, 5/4/04).

Clients: characteristics and motivations

Prostitution primarily exists because of men’s demands and expectations regarding the purchasing of sexual services. Without a willing client group, the industry would quickly cease to exist. Yet while the number of clients clearly outweighs the number of workers, research studies of the former have been few and far between (Monto, 2000).

Just as stereotypes of ‘prostitutes’ exist, so too do stereotypes of their clients. Common images depict ugly, disabled and socially gauche men, or stress their sleazy, cheating natures and furtive dirty habits. The sheer numbers of men buying sexual services casts doubts on such assertions. Early estimates of the numbers of men who visited sex workers were comparatively high and are now viewed as exaggerations (Monto, 2000). One figure often cited relates to sexologist Alfred Kinsey’s 1948 study which estimated that more than two-thirds of men (69%) had visited sex workers at some time in their lives and between 15%-20% were regular visitors (cited ibid., 68). Although since questioned for its sampling methods and lack of generalisability, this study became the basis for subsequent research, such as that by Benjamin and Masters (1964) who estimated that about 80% of men had visited sex workers. A more recent and methodologically advanced study was conducted as part of the National Health and Social Life Survey, 1992, which estimated that 16% of men in the United States had ever visited a sex worker (cited in Monto, 2000). Interestingly, the study revealed that the percentage of men whose first sexual experience had been with a sex worker declined among men who came of age in the 1950s to those coming of age in the 1990s (from 7% to 1.5%) (cited in Monto, 2000, 68).

While debate about the proportion of all men who have visited sex workers continues, clearly the number of men involved as clients overwhelmingly exceeds the number of women involved in the industry - at any one time there are far more men participating in the sex industry than there are women. How many more is a question often disputed. Martha Stein’s study (1974) put the ratio of clients to prostitutes at 30:1. Little New Zealand data exists, although a small survey of Auckland sex workers revealed each worker saw on average 14 clients in a week (Chetwynd, 1992). Research conducted in Australia estimated that about one in 40 men in Sydney visit sex workers a week (Perkins, 1991).

Despite their number, very little research exists on the clients of sex workers. Indeed, Perkins observes that studies of men’s involvement in prostitution overall, whether as prostitutes, clients or pimps, constitute fewer than 1% of all prostitution studies (Perkins, 1991, Table 1:1, 33). This may be due in part to the fact that the question of why men visit sex workers was felt for many years to be self-evident. Instead the assumption tended to be: why wouldn’t they? In the last decade more interest has been expressed in this topic by researchers, providing some understanding of the motivations underlying the buying of sex. For example, McKeganey and Barnard’s study of clients (which included telephone interviews with 66 men contacted via newspaper advertisements) suggested the men perceived multiple attractions to be associated with paid sex. These included the desire to have a larger number of sexual partners and experience a wider range of sexual practices, as well as the appeal of the illicit nature of the sex industry and the limited emotional involvement associated with paying for sex (McKeganey and Barnard, 1994).

One of the few New Zealand studies of clients was undertaken through a project jointly funded by the New Zealand Prostitutes’ Collective and the Health Research Council of New Zealand (Chetwynd and Plumridge, 1993). Described as a pilot study, the research arose from previous research which had indicated some sex workers experienced pressure from clients to engage in unsafe sexual practices (Chetwynd, 1992). The sample consisted of 30 clients of female sex workers, ten each from Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch. To conduct the interviews, a woman was recruited who was known and trusted in the sex industry, whom the researchers trained in interview techniques and questionnaire administration. The study was primarily concerned with obtaining information regarding safer sex practices, the results of which are reported below.

The motives clients spontaneously reported for their visits to sex workers fell into two main categories. These related to the straightforwardness of the exchange – sex without complications – and to the pleasurable aspects – providing company and fun, as well as alleviating boredom and providing variety (Chetwynd and Plumridge, 1993). However, while there was not huge variance in the underlying motives, the specific triggers associated with visits to sex workers were quite varied. Some clients referred to spontaneous decisions made on impulse or after drinking, while others talked about meeting needs arising from loneliness, boredom etc. No client spontaneously suggested ‘need for sex’ as a trigger, but when asked specifically about this aspect by the interviewer, nine agreed that it was a trigger (Chetwynd and Plumridge, 1993, 15). Regarding the age at which they first purchased sex, the average age was 28 years, with the range of ages spanning from 14 to 50 years of age. One-fifth of the sample first paid for sex while in their teens, and just under a half first paid for sex in their twenties (Chetwynd and Plumridge, 1993).

A smaller qualitative study of clients purchasing sexual services in New Zealand was conducted by Jordan (1997). The 13 men interviewed were entirely self-selecting and thus may not be representative of clients overall. Nevertheless their willingness to speak openly and candidly about their experiences provided a rare opportunity to hear New Zealand clients speak from their perspective about their participation in the sex industry. For this reason the material they provided is summarised here at some length.

A brief profile of the men interviewed indicates they came from a variety of backgrounds. At the time of being interviewed the men’s ages ranged from 27-74, with most being in the 30-40 years age group. Nearly half the men were married, two were widowed, one was separated, and four had never been married (including two men in their 70s). The occupational and class backgrounds of the men varied considerably, as did their incomes. The latter ranged from $14,000 per annum to $90,000 plus per annum, earned in occupations as diverse as glass cutting, sales and retail, education, real estate, medicine and optometry (Jordan, 1997).

So why did these men visit sex workers? The reasons varied depending on the men’s own circumstances and the extent to which they felt their sexual needs could be met through more conventional relationships. All of them acknowledged that they were there, at least to some extent, for sex. The significance they attached to sex and their aspirations for what they hoped it would achieve, however, varied considerably. To some extent this was dependent on their marital status. Four of the older men (in their 40s and 50s, plus one in his 70s) maintained that their wives were unable to satisfy them sexually. As Peter expressed it:

My wife gets a sore back and I don’t like to say, ‘Well come on then, it’s about time we did it again’, because she’s worried about her mother and she gets backaches and headaches. It’s easier to save up a few dollars and go and relax for a couple of hours over at the massage parlour. (Jordan, 1997, 58).

Women’s lack of interest in sex was often used by these men as a justification for their visits to sex workers, with few of them expressing any strong guilt feelings or having a sense of betrayal. Jansen was recently widowed at the time of being interviewed, but for a lot of his marriage had visited sex workers whenever he was away from home. He said he had no sense of betraying his wife whatsoever:

Not at all – she just wasn’t there. I didn’t tell her because I didn’t think it would be very diplomatic and it could make her unhappy. (Jordan, 1997, 59).

Similar sentiments were expressed by David, a sales representative in his early 30s whose marriage had recently ended. It wasn’t until after he was separated that he first went to a massage parlour. Now he maintains it to be a more honest, less complicated way of having his sexual needs met than having a series of casual affairs or one-night stands. As he sees it, to go to a pub may mean:

You can end up picking up somebody you don’t really want to pick up and doing some things you don’t really want to do, and then you wake up in the morning and sneak out or whatever, and next minute they’ll be knocking on your door that they’re pregnant or they’ve got VD or something ... or they’re crying rape because they’ve come out of their drunken stupor or whatever and they realize they shouldn’t be there or the boyfriend’s going to find out, so then you’ve got all that hassle, just for one thing, for something that might last for a few minutes to a couple of hours – I just don’t see the point, I really don’t see it. (Jordan, 1997, 60).

For men in David’s situation who do not want an emotionally intense relationship or who are not ready to make a commitment, sex workers clearly provide them with what appears to be a relatively uncomplicated way of getting their sexual needs met. The lack of complication is obviously part of the appeal for the married men also. Affairs are definitely perceived as riskier undertakings with greater potential to disrupt the marital relationship. Even picking up a woman at a bar for the night seemed too messy, and besides, sex was never a guaranteed outcome. In attempting to clarify his own thoughts on this issue, Alan postulated:

Maybe there’s an objectiveness about it that appeals to me. You can put it on and you can take it off and that’s it, and it’s gone and there’s nothing else. There’s no lingering involvements – ‘you told me you weren’t married’, or anything silly like that. It’s clinical and it’s clean. You both know why you’re there so there’s no sparring or fiddling about or any of that ‘I love you for your mind’ stuff. (Jordan, 1997, 60).

Alec, a shy young man, described it this way:

It’s as if I become a different person when I walk into a parlour. I find I can go with a girl there and not be, or feel, sort of threatened or afraid of them, probably because I know they are only doing a job and it’s not reality, in a way, it’s all an act most of the time. (Jordan, 1997, 62).

What he wants the most from these visits, he says, is the companionship.

I like to be with someone for a while, even if it’s just an hour. You can get very lonely. It’s very depressing to be lonely all the time – you just have to be with someone. (ibid.).

Alec went to a massage parlour as a virgin, and Jon also had never been in a sexual relationship before he visited a parlour. In Jon’s case, however, he was in his early 70s at the time.

I got this idea - I didn’t want to die without knowing. Since I’ve been going there I’ve actually realised what I’ve been missing. I might go for sex, but that’s only part of it. The woman I see now - I was with her last night - we’re actually very compatible. As much as anything else it’s companionship. I don’t consider her a prostitute at all. (Jordan, 1997, 63).

Women, then, were conceptualised as necessary to fulfil men’s sexual needs, but often in these accounts they emerge also as the providers of men’s emotional needs as well. The men frequently spoke of going to sex workers to meet their intimacy and companionship needs, or to provide a sense of touch, even the illusion of closeness.

When you’re with a beautiful woman you’re not as desperate as when you are conscious of the fact that you’re without house and home or your wife has walked out or something - it relieves all that. (Jordan, 1997, 65).

To be offered sex without intimacy seemed for many men to be a straightforward, uncomplicated option. It enabled them to continue to regard sex as something separate, something other, something which exists apart from their mind and their emotions. The possibility of sex without commitment was attractive to many of these men, but what also often appealed was the ability to have sex without negotiation. Jansen described his visits to sex workers in this way:

There you just ask and you get it. You don’t have to beg or whatever. (Jordan, 1997, 66).

The paying of money was seen as entitling the men to use the women for sex, with no other expectations involved.

In the absence of many studies of clients themselves, a major source of information has been provided by sex workers. Descriptions from the 1970s have familiarity today. Sex workers both then and now recount a tendency for the majority to be married, although one described how some men would come before they were married, disappear for a few weeks during the wedding and honeymoon, then reappear shortly afterwards (Kedgley and Cederman, 1972).

Georgina Beyer describes how, as a transsexual, she would perform ‘trick sex’ with clients who would assume she was a biological female, as well as with men who knew she was not but did not seem to care. As she describes it:

There were some straight clients and casual sex partners who didn’t mind if they partnered a man, a woman or a transsexual. It has always amazed me how many straight Kiwi blokes, when drunk, look for any port in a storm. (Beyer, 1999, 66-67).

Similar accounts of transsexual sex workers being able to ‘trick’ male clients are contained within Heather Worth’s study (Worth, 2003).

The demand for alternative or ‘deviant’ sexual practices has long been acknowledged in the literature. Descriptions are numerous of men who pay to be whipped by their ‘mistress’, caned like a schoolboy, or treated like slaves. One sex worker remarked, "Lots of guys in New Zealand want to be abused and tortured," (quoted in Kedgley and Cederman, 1972, 114). Also relatively common are accounts of men seeking women to give them ‘golden showers’ (urinate over them), or fetishists with their own particular demands involving boots, panties or whatever specifically turns them on (Jordan, 1991c; Kedgley and Cederman, 1972).

Although such accounts are common, they need to be balanced out by other sex workers’ accounts describing by far the majority of their clients wanting very ordinary and conventional sexual practices. One woman described her surprise at how conventional it all seemed, exclaiming:

It’s actually extraordinary how conservative most of them are – that really startled me when I first started doing it… I think I’d expected that they would want more exotic or interesting kinds of sex, but in fact it’s pretty boring, mundane sex, and far more ordinary than I would have in my private life with anybody. (quoted in Jordan, 1991c, 195).

It is possible that, like most people, when asked about their work there is a tendency to emphasise the bizarre and different, partly because that is memorable and also because of its shock appeal. In some ways also, conveying such stories to non-sex workers might be viewed as a way of engaging sympathy for all that the job demands, as well as providing a means of distancing from the ‘deviant’ client.

The assumption in most of the prostitution literature is that, while sex workers may be male, female, or transgendered, the clients are always male. While it is likely, for a complex mix of biological, social, and economic realities, that the overwhelming majority of clients will in fact be male, the existence of female clients must also be recognised. Where and how do women feature as the purchasers of commercial sex?

This issue has been discussed to some extent within the context of lesbian involvement in prostitution. International research has uncovered opposing attitudes by lesbian sex workers to selling their services to women. Some lesbian sex workers have felt this would be ‘too close to home’, too much like prostitution (Pia, in Hoigard and Finstad, 1992, 73), and maintained they could only sell sex to men. Such a view was reflected in the lesbian sex workers interviewed for the New Zealand book, Working Girls (Jordan, 1991c). Other lesbians, however, have provided sexual services to women, their clientele ranging from ‘closet’ lesbians concerned about their careers and reputations to women in heterosexual marriages looking for something different (Brown, 1994). A lesbian woman in New Zealand commented to an interviewer that she preferred to have women clients, saying:

Having women clients was just a lot nicer then having men, because they were women. Men are just so male. (Timi, quoted in Brown, 1994, 34).

The question of men providing sexual services to women clients has been little studied within this country, although passing reference is made to this occurring in material documenting the experiences of male sex workers in the industry (PRB 111, 2001).

CONTINUED

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