In 2022, I attended a climate consultation hosted by a large, well-funded NGO. The room was full of buzzwords – carbon credits, green infrastructure, water conservation. I raised my hand and asked, “Where is the space for sex workers in your climate justice plan?”

The panel smiled politely. “Inclusion is important,” someone murmured. Then they moved on.

This moment reflects a pattern. Climate policy in India, and globally, often erases those living at the intersections of caste, class, gender, and labour. It forgets the margins. Or worse – it never knew them.

In recent years, climate change has made life much harder for many poor families in India. People living in rural areas face droughts, floods, rising temperatures, and unpredictable weather patterns. These conditions have reduced farming income, destroyed crops, and made daily life insecure. As a result, many families, and especially women, are forced to leave their homes and migrate to cities in search of work and survival.

Among these migrants are women from poor and drought-affected areas who, after exhausting many options, have entered sex work to support themselves and their families. This is a reality often ignored in conversations about climate change and poverty.

Sex work is rarely seen through the lens of climate change, but it is crucial to start making this connection. The economic and social shocks caused by climate disasters often push vulnerable women into precarious and informal work, including sex work, which offers a means to survive when no other opportunities exist.

One woman from Latur, Maharashtra, shared her story, which reflects the experience of many others. She said:

“I had a small piece of land. But the rains stopped. In those three years of drought, we sold everything – our cows, our gold, even the land. My husband died due to illness. His family blamed me and threw me out. I came to Pune with two small children. I worked in three houses as a maid, but I could barely feed my kids. One day a woman in my basti asked me, ‘Why are you starving? You can earn more in Budhwar Peth.’ I didn’t know what she meant. But I had no option. I entered sex work to survive.”

Her story is not unique. Many women who come into sex work come from drought-prone districts in Maharashtra such as Beed, Osmanabad, Jalna, and even from parts of Madhya Pradesh and Karnataka. Many are single women, widows, or have escaped violent homes. Climate disasters, rising debts, lack of safe and stable employment, and no support from government or social systems force them to migrate to cities, often under unsafe conditions.

When the land fails to feed, the city becomes both hope and trap.

In the last five years, Saheli Sangh – a Pune-based organisation that works with sex workers – has seen a 20% increase in women entering sex work. Most of these women come from rural areas affected by climate disruptions. The organization’s data shows that between 2019 and 2024, over 600 new women began sex work in just two areas of Pune, and most of them reported migration from drought-hit regions.

This trend is not isolated to Maharashtra. A 2021 report by ActionAid highlights that across Asia and Africa, climate change is deepening poverty and forcing women into informal and often risky work, including sex work. Despite this reality, sex workers are largely invisible in disaster and development policies. Whether during the COVID-19 pandemic, floods, or heat waves, they were rarely included in government support, relief packages, or rehabilitation programs. Even many social workers and development professionals overlook them, as sex work is often wrongly seen as a crime or a source of shame. This stigma blocks sex workers from accessing help, justice, and essential services.

It is important to remember that sex workers are human beings first. They are mothers, sisters, and citizens of this country. They have the same constitutional rights and dignity as anyone else. Yet, many are excluded from ration cards, housing schemes, disaster relief, and financial aid simply because of their work.

Sex workers are not asking for rescue or pity. They are demanding respect, rights, and recognition. They are skilled workers who provide emotional and sexual services. Their work is real and should be recognised under labour laws. They want safety, healthcare, financial inclusion, and social security – just like any other worker.
The connection between climate change and sex work is real and urgent. When the land dries up, when the rains fail, and crops die, it is the poor – especially women – who suffer first. They lose their income, their homes, and often their dignity. Forced to migrate without skills, safety nets, or opportunities, some women enter sex work as the only option left for survival.

Ignoring this connection will prevent us from building fair and inclusive climate policies. Any climate action plan must focus on the most vulnerable – including sex workers. They need to be included in disaster relief programs, sustainable livelihood initiatives, and safe migration policies.

Policy makers, civil society, and international organisations must listen to their voices. Their lived experiences show what survival truly looks like on the frontlines of climate change. Without including those most affected, climate justice will remain out of reach.

This is not just a development issue – it is a question of justice.

Justice means listening.

It means expanding the definition of “climate-affected” to include people whose lives are invisibly shaped by ecological collapse. It means acknowledging how patriarchy, caste, sexuality, and class determine who is protected – and who is sacrificed.

So here’s what I invite policy-makers to ask themselves when they write the next climate plan:

Whose names are missing?
Whose voices are silenced?
And more importantly, who benefits from that silence?

To read this article in Hindi, please click here

Cover image by Fermoar.ro on Unsplash