Stigma Woes; or, Be Nice to Sex Workers by Jonathan Doucette

I sat alone in my basement apartment at 5:00 a.m., ears ringing, the silence jolting and invasive. I had spent the previous eight hours on the overnight outreach van with my new employers, the aptly titled “HIPS,” or Helping Individual Prostitutes Survive, and I felt at once desperately fatigued and fretfully manic.