The Push to Decriminalize Sex Work in NYC
Photograph by Ryan Schwach,
Make The Road Magazine.
The air along Roosevelt Ave. is thick with the smoke of street vendors grilling up salchipapas, tripa mishqui, and tacos al pastor. Little kids with backpacks weave through crowds on the sidewalk, parents chasing after them as families board the 7 train rumbling above. This commercial stretch through Jackson Heights, Elmhurst, and Corona is celebrated as one of the most diverse neighborhoods in the world, with a lively street food scene of Latin American restaurants that self-proclaimed foodies don’t want to miss. But the area is famous for something else too: sex work—a reality that many residents would rather keep out of sight.
Amid growing community concerns, Mayor Eric Adams and Governor Kathy Hochul launched “Operation Restore Roosevelt” this past October 15 – a 90 day initiative deploying 200 officers to patrol the area and conduct raids on massage parlors suspected of operating as brothels. While the operation is set to end in January, some residents have praised the increased police presence, voicing their support through Facebook groups and even a Change.org petition urging officials to extend the program. Meanwhile, sex workers and their advocates warn against the dangers of over-policing a vulnerable population. They argue that decriminalization is essential for recognizing sex work as a legitimate career, as well as for removing barriers to better combat sex trafficking.
Despite being one of the oldest professions, sex work remains deeply stigmatized and misunderstood in the United States. This lack of societal acceptance, combined with its criminalized status, leaves sex workers to face systemic harm. Raids on suspected brothels, often framed as anti-trafficking measures, have led to incidents of police brutality, arrests, and deportation—exacerbating the vulnerability of those the measures claim to protect.
In 2017, a police raid on a Flushing massage parlor resulted in the tragic death of Yang Song, who fell four stories to the sidewalk. Months earlier, Song, a non-US citizen, had been sexually assaulted by an undercover officer after a prostitution arrest. Despite her consensual sex work being unrelated to trafficking, the NYPD reportedly pressured her for months to become an informant, leveraging her immigration status and criminal charges. During the sting operation, she attempted to escape—a decision likely driven by her fear of arrest and deep trauma from prior experiences with law enforcement. Song’s death sparked outrage among advocates, who pointed to her case as emblematic of the dangers faced by sex workers under current policing practices, and of the vulnerability of immigrant communities in the criminal justice system.
Finn Bringham, who works with the Cecilia’s Occupational Inclusion Network (COIN) program, which provides free healthcare for sex workers, explained the challenges they face: “You know, because sex work is illegal. That means that both clients of sex workers, as well as sometimes law enforcement, can perpetuate violence against sex workers, and they are extremely reluctant to report it.” This reluctance extends to seeking medical care, as fear of discrimination or legal repercussions often deters sex workers from accessing traditional healthcare. The COIN clinic addresses this gap by offering free, inclusive care tailored to their needs. “A key priority is ensuring that sex work is not documented in any medical chart,” Bringham said, emphasizing that confidentiality is essential to building trust with patients.
Many sex workers new to the COIN Clinic fear having their work documented in medical records because of the potential for legal and societal repercussions. “When you have a criminal record, there’s all sorts of repercussions (...) decriminalization would make it so sex workers don’t have a criminal record,” Bringham said. He highlighted how criminal records can lead to widespread discrimination, including barriers to housing, employment, and even voting rights. Beyond these societal impacts, Bringham emphasized the public health benefits of decriminalization: reducing the spread of sexually transmitted diseases by enabling sex workers to feel safer and more empowered to negotiate condom use.
Advocates for decriminalization stress the importance of distinguishing between consensual sex work and human trafficking. While sex trafficking is rooted in coercion and exploitation, consensual sex work often provides community and livelihood, especially for marginalized groups such as the trans community. Bringham highlighted this distinction, saying “There are many sex workers who are perfectly happy doing sex work. You know, the hours are flexible, the money is good. You know, a lot of particularly transgender sex workers, find a very strong community of other women that they can rely on and feel safe with.” The COIN Clinic frames its work as a continuation of Cecilia Gentili’s legacy. Gentili, a tireless advocate for trans sex workers, passed away this February.
“On the contrary, if sex work is legal, and sex workers who are doing consensual, legal work feel safe working with the police and being honest about their sex work, they actually can intervene in human trafficking,” Bringham said. “They do, see, and hear things that law enforcement [today] never would.” The criminalization of sex work fosters fear of law enforcement, making it harder for sex workers to safely collaborate with authorities in order to identify and prevent trafficking.
The distinction between sex work and sex trafficking is often misunderstood, with a “savior complex” equating the two and fueling harmful policies. In 2018, two bills—the Fight Online Sex Trafficking Act (FOSTA) and the Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act (SESTA)—were passed to combat human trafficking, but instead caused significant harm to consensual sex workers. These laws shut down online platforms where sex workers shared critical safety information, forcing many into street-based work, which is far more dangerous.
“An example was Red Book, which allowed sex workers to share information about dangerous and abusive clients, which is very helpful,” Bringham explained. “So to say, you know, this person stole my money, this person was abusive, this person was violent, whatever it may be. So that the whole sex worker community knows, you know, these people are unsafe. The FOSTA-SESTA laws actually shut these down so they don’t have that resource anymore.”
While policymakers may have good intentions, Bringham emphasized the importance of understanding the nuanced realities of sex work to avoid unintended harm.
In Queens, a main concern of the local community, particularly of those with families, is the presence of sex work in residential neighborhoods. “For me, I’m a single dad. I love my neighborhood and [that’s] why I’m stretching financially for her to be safe wandering the neighborhood riding her bike or skateboard. But I tell her to avoid Roosevelt. It ain’t like when we were kids,” said one lifelong resident of Jackson Heights, who asked to remain anonymous.
Another resident, Amanda T., shared, “I am a social worker so in many ways I believe in supporting women in education, English language skill building, and employment opportunities so that vulnerable people do not have to exploit their bodies for money, if they don’t want to do that. What’s also apparent on Roosevelt Ave. is drug selling and food vendors. Police remain mostly in the subway and I don’t think they do anything at all. They’re either walking around or standing and are on their phones.”
As the debate over decriminalization continues, these community concerns highlight the tension between the rights of sex workers and the desire for a protected, family-friendly environments. The challenge lies in finding a balance that respects both the dignity and safety of sex workers, while also addressing the valid concerns of residents about the impact of sex work on their neighborhoods.