The worst night of my life was the night that changed everything.
 
It was hot out. That’s the code word sex workers use to warn each other if police are nearby. I ducked into a card room called Georgianne’s to hide, where I busied myself with an arcade machine, slipping quarter after quarter into the coin slot to make the world go away for a moment — or at least for the length of one Ms. Pac-Man game.
 
That peace came to a halt when a man came up and flashed a wad of bills in my face. He told me to meet him out back so the police wouldn’t see him leave with me. I knew this was never a good idea. As a sex worker, if no one sees who you leave with, you may never come home. But I didn’t care and went with him anyway, thinking he was like any other client on any other night.
 
When we got to his house, he locked the door and blocked it with a fan. He said he was a police officer, but I knew he was lying. A police officer would never take me home. My gut told me not to go through with it, but when I tried to leave, he snatched me by the hair and dragged me back into his house. He raped me several times that night. He even tried to kill me.

In the movies, when someone strangles you, you die. That isn’t always the truth. You come back and you breathe again and you’re in the same hell that you left, surrounded by blood and broken glass. I didn’t know whether the blood was his or mine, but it didn’t matter. That night, I fought for my life like only the dying can.

I tried everything, until finally I played dead and he bought it — but it didn’t stop him. Thinking I was dead, he dragged me out the back door and down the steps to his car, where he raped me one more time before throwing me in the trunk. I watched, still playing dead, as he went back inside the car to clean up the mess. I had a chance to run — and I took it.
 
My legs wouldn’t work. My foot had been badly injured, too. So I crawled and limped away until I made it to the first cross street. A car drove up. Four men were inside. It was only when I saw the looks on their faces — pure terror — that I realized the extent of what that man did to me.
 
“We don’t want anything to do with this,” said the driver. “But we’re gonna take you somewhere safe.”
 
They took me to the UC Davis Medical Center. I ended up in the rape unit, where nurses washed off the blood, stitched up my wounds, and gave me a rape kit before calling the police. Even though I knew I might be arrested for prostitution, I decided to report anyway — that man was too dangerous, and I didn’t want anybody else to go through what I did. I went straight to the district attorney, who looked at the pictures and the rape kit and decided to believe me.
 
But at trial, it became painfully clear that my word as a sex worker was worthless. I’ll never forget the way it felt to take the stand and retell the experience for an entire courtroom, answering questions about why I was in a certain place at a certain hour, as if it was my fault. I knew they judged me for what I did for a living, and the outcome of the case speaks volumes to how society sees sex workers: The man who kidnapped, raped, and tried to kill me was sentenced to 45 days of community service. According to the court, what he did to me that night amounted to petty theft.

Credit: Max Whitaker

My story is as shocking as it is common. Sex workers frequently face violence on the job, but we usually won’t report because we might be arrested in the process. When we do report, we don’t get heard because of the social stigma that being a sex worker carries. My experience that night and the injustice that followed spurred me to fight for the rights society denied me. And the first step in that fight is to decriminalize sex work.
 
Since sex workers do not have access to many of the same protections as other workers, we have to fend for ourselves. It isn’t easy to keep yourself safe if you are constantly afraid of being arrested. Those of us who work on the street will rush through client negotiations to avoid being seen, sometimes jumping into dangerous situations with violent clients because we didn’t have time to screen the client first. People who work online also have limited ability to watch out for their safety. In 2018, the passage of SESTA/FOSTA banned many online sex work and client screening platforms that sex workers use to stay safe. And once you’re caught in a risky situation, there’s nobody to call for help without risking arrest.

Criminalization also puts us at higher risk of police abuse. Throughout my career, I’ve been sexually assaulted and robbed by the police several times, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I have also encountered police officers who helped me — in some instances, possibly saving my life by warning me of areas to avoid if other police were patrolling nearby. But sex workers should not have to rely on chance to stay safe, and those who swore to serve and protect should be helping rather than harming us.
 
I have been to jail several times for prostitution. Other sex workers, such as trans women of color, are even more likely to be arrested, incarcerated, and harassed, partly because the police profile and target them. The punishment doesn’t end with a jail sentence — having an arrest for prostitution on your criminal record is a scarlet letter, considered a crime of moral turpitude. It makes it difficult or sometimes even impossible to get a job, sign a lease, or access everyday services — even banking. I was shocked when I got a letter from my bank announcing they were closing my account. Even though I had good credit and had been a customer for decades, they said my job made me a “high risk” customer and violated their code of ethics. If sex work were decriminalized, banks would probably have fairer policies, and it would be easier for us to advocate for our rights.

Opponents of decriminalization are often trying to “save” us from trafficking and exploitation. In my experience, attempts to save sex workers through law enforcement have done the opposite. Raids, arrests, and stop-and-search policies push us further into the margins, where violence goes unchecked. Making an occupation illegal does not stop exploitation and trafficking — exploitation and trafficking proliferate because sex workers can’t report, don’t have resources, and social stigma silences us. Sex workers are not infantile beings who don’t know what’s good for us. We are the last people who want to perpetuate exploitation and harm, because we’re the ones who are affected. We want labor rights, we want justice, and we want to be treated the same as any other worker under the law. First and foremost, we need people to listen to us.
 
I’m proud to be a part of the movement for sex workers’ rights. In my home state of California, we banned the use of condoms as evidence of sex work by police. This will encourage workers to carry and use protection without fear of arrest, protecting both their health and that of their clients.The same law also allows sex workers to report violent offenses such as trafficking, rape, and robbery with complete immunity from arrest — not just for prostitution, but for misdemeanor charges related to sex work or drugs. Every day I see more signs that attitudes are changing, including at the federal level. Last year, Congress introduced the SAFE SEX Workers Study Act, which calls for studying the effects of SESTA/FOSTA on sex workers’ safety and well-being. Decriminalization is by no means a panacea, but it will create positive changes for sex workers.
 
If sex work were decriminalized, sex workers would be able to seek help when we’re in danger. We could go to the hospital in times of emergency without fear of arrest. We would have more autonomy. And we wouldn’t get entangled with the criminal justice system for a misdemeanor that will follow us for life. Decriminalization is the step we need to take to keep us all safe.

Kristen DiAngelo, Executive Director, Sex Workers Outreach Project Sacramento

The intense focus on the presidential race can easily obscure policies that could have more of a direct impact on communities in both red and blue states but they are no less important. Many voters don’t engage with the electoral process because they don’t think their votes make a difference or count for much. Down-ballot races are where voters can make a real impact in shaping policies and spark a broader public debate. 

The ACLU is nonpartisan, so our goal with down-ballot campaigns is to ensure that voters are educated about the potential consequences of an election, not to support specific candidates. We don’t tell voters who to vote for but provide them the tools to cast an informed vote by elevating the key issues at play in the race. 

So what policies are at stake in this election? Here’s a quick snapshot of the types of civil liberties and civil rights issues that could be on your ballot. 

Criminal Justice Reform
This summer police accountability and other criminal justice reforms were thrust front and center. These are issues we’ve long worked on but now take on new importance and are reflected across the spectrum of races where we’re engaged. 

Take the Maricopa County, Arizona attorney race. Elected prosecutors, district attorneys, or county attorneys have an enormous impact on the criminal legal system — they decide who to charge with crimes, whether to offer a second chance or send someone to prison, and when to hold police accountable. In Maricopa, we’re focusing on how candidates can hold police accountable when they kill someone and end prosecutions of low-level marijuana possession, charges that disproportionately impact people of color. 

Conditions of confinement are also a key issue in the criminal justice space. Sheriffs are often the people directly in charge of local jails, meaning they’re responsible for conditions in these facilities and the people incarcerated there. In Cobb County, Georgia, 50 people have died in custody since 2003, and others have experienced deadly neglect, misconduct by deputies, inhumane conditions, extended lockdowns, and inadequate medical care. Through our engagement in this race, voters could not only improve conditions in the jail but also establish accountability for what goes on behind those walls.

But it’s not just local officials who can have an impact on the criminal justice system. Ballot measures allow an entire state to address issues like mass incarceration. In Oklahoma, we’re working on State Question 805, a common-sense criminal justice reform that will limit extreme sentences for nonviolent crimes and save Oklahoma taxpayers $186 million. Oklahoma hands down cruel and unfair sentences for minor crimes, leading to one of the highest incarceration rates in the country. An individual sentenced in the state served 33 years in prison for writing $400 worth of bad checks, and a mother was sentenced to 15 years for stealing basic necessities and children’s toys from a Walmart. State Question 805 will limit sentences like these that are out of proportion to the crimes.

Reproductive Freedom 
Since 2011, states have passed more than 460 abortion restrictions, eroding abortion access for far too many, disproportionately harming low-income people and people of color. With President Trump having promised only to nominate justices that would overturn Roe v. Wade, if his current nominee is confirmed, the legal right to abortion will be in the gravest danger it has faced yet. As federal protections for reproductive rights become precariously uncertain, safeguarding this right at the state level has never been more urgent. 

Montana stands out as a state with strong protections for reproductive freedom, especially in its geographic region, but that’s mostly because of its governor, as well as some important state supreme court precedents. The state legislature continually passes abortion restrictions like targeted regulations of abortion providers (TRAP laws) and abortion bans, but has been stopped by the governor’s veto pen. Without a governor who supports abortion rights, Montana could see severe restrictions on the five remaining abortion providers in Montana, which also serve patients from Idaho, the Dakotas, and Wyoming, where access is virtually non-existent due to restrictions. The risk is so high that the ACLU is dedicating significant resources to informing voters on what’s at stake in this race so they can make an informed decision.
 
Should Roe v. Wade be overturned, abortion could become illegal in several states, including Arizona. The Arizona House of Representatives, however, is very close to obtaining a majority that would protect abortion rights, so we’re engaging in two key state legislative races  — House Districts 20 and 23 — to mobilize voters on this issue. Additionally, since access to abortion turns not only on statewide legislation but also on prosecutorial discretion, we have raised abortion in the Maricopa County attorney race too. Should abortion be banned in the state, the Maricopa County attorney would have significant influence on whether to charge people with crimes for seeking or providing abortion care. 

And in Colorado, we’re fighting back a ballot measure, Proposition 115, that would ban abortion later in pregnancy. Prop. 115 would make it a crime for doctors to provide abortion care starting at 22 weeks in pregnancy, robbing pregnant people of the ability to make their own personal medical decisions, taking into consideration their own personal situations. Prop. 115 is a one-size-fits-all mandate that fails to acknowledge every pregnancy is unique — and shows no compassion for what families face in unimaginably complicated circumstances. And it takes away the ability of doctors to provide the best medical care for their patients.

Immigrants’ Rights
Typically, the federal government shapes our policies on immigration. But they frequently also try to involve local law enforcement in their efforts to find, detain, and deport immigrants, splitting families and communities. This is the case for local sheriffs who are often asked to house detained people, including immigrants, and have the power to enter into agreements with federal immigration enforcement to deputize local police as immigration agents. 

In the run-up to November 3, we’re focused on three specific sheriff races that have the ability to transform the quality of life for immigrant families. In Charleston, South Carolina, the next sheriff could end the city’s 287(g) agreement with federal immigration agencies, which wastes local resources to detain and deport immigrants on behalf of the federal government. And in Cobb and Gwinnett counties in Georgia, two of the most aggressive locations for local immigration enforcement, we’ve asked candidates if they’ll commit to both ending the 287(g) program and stopping the use of ICE detainers, which can extend a person’s detention beyond the authorized amount of time, allowing ICE to take them into custody and eventually deport them. In Gwinnett County alone, the county shared information with ICE on more than 5,000 immigrants in 2017, which accounted for one-fifth of all interactions nationwide that year. In Miami-Dade County, Florida — another area of ACLU electoral engagement — the mayor will appoint a new sheriff, so in this case, we’ve gotten involved in a mayoral race to let voters know about the candidates’ positions. But, the issues at stake are the same — treating immigrant communities justly and curtailing local collaboration with ICE.

Racial Justice
While our country remains in a moment of racial reckoning, there are states where voters can have a direct impact on racial justice in just a few weeks. Of course, many reforms to the criminal justice system, like State Question 805 in Oklahoma, could mean decreasing racial disparities in who gets charged and the length of their sentences. But these policies on the ballot go beyond criminal justice reform.

This year, Nebraska voters can decide to reduce predatory payday loan interest rates, which average more than 400 percent. These payday loans, marketed as a short-term fix for those in financial stress, are actually designed to trap borrowers in a cycle of long-term debt. The consequences of payday lenders fall especially hard on communities of color, where payday lending stores are located in higher numbers than in other neighborhoods. It becomes incredibly hard for minority families to build wealth, save for the future, or have a safety net because dollars are systematically drained away. This ballot measure comes at a time when many Americans are devastated by the global health pandemic and the longstanding racial disparities it has exacerbated, leaving millions unable to meet their families’ basic needs. While many of these issues will take work to resolve, voting for this ballot measure will be a move in the right direction to help remedy economic and racial injustice. 

In California, the most diverse state in the nation, voters can choose to support Proposition 16, which would bring affirmative action back to the state for the first time in decades. The current affirmative action ban means fewer and less profitable opportunities for women and communities of color. But this isn’t only about money and jobs — lives are at risk. Black, Latinx, and Native American people are dying disproportionately from COVID-19 because of the devastating consequences of decades of discrimination in education, housing, jobs, health care, and more. Affirmative action would help reduce and eliminate those harms by leveling the playing field, for instance, through expanding access to health care education to all communities. Research has shown that communities of color receive better health care from medical professionals of those communities. If passed, Proposition 16 will help bring equal opportunity to all Californians, increasing access to fair wages, good jobs, and quality schools for everyone.

Make a Plan to Vote
Of course, none of these policies will change if you don’t vote. So make a plan and recruit friends and family. For more on how to vote in your state, check out our Let People Vote tool.

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Paid for by American Civil Liberties Union, Inc., Anthony Romero, Executive Director, 125 Broad Street, New York, New York 10004.  Not authorized by any candidate or candidate’s committee.
 
Paid for by the American Civil Liberties Union, Inc. on behalf of the Committee to Advance Constitutional Values.
 
Authorized and paid for by American Civil Liberties Union, Inc., 125 Broad Street, New York, NY 10004, 212-549-2500, on behalf of Yes on 805, Inc.
 
Paid for by American Civil Liberties Union, Inc.; Anthony Romero, Registered Agent.  Authorized by Abortion Access for All.
 
Paid for by American Civil Liberties Union, Inc., 125 Broad Street, New York, NY 10004, and authorized by Nebraskans for Responsible Lending.
 
Paid for by American Civil Liberties Union, Inc., ID #1259514, and authorized by Yes on 16, Opportunity for All Coalition, Sponsored by Civil Rights Organizations.

Ronald Newman, National Political Director, ACLU

This week and in recent years, a growing number of states and cities across the country celebrated Indigenous Peoples’ Day. It comes as an important corrective after decades of celebrating the “discovery” of the Americas by Christopher Columbus each year. We know, of course, that no such discovery happened — what did happen was colonization, and centuries of subjugation, murder, disenfranchisement, and displacement of Native Americans. As we reflect on our history and on the stories that have been too often excluded, we consider the importance of not just what stories get told, but of who gets to tell them.

This week on At Liberty, we are joined by Josué Rivas, who helped us think through these questions. Rivas is a visual storyteller, educator, creative director, and self-described “Indigenous futurist.” He descended from the Mexica Otomi peoples. He aims “to challenge the mainstream narrative about Indigenous peoples” and to “be a visual messenger for those in the shadows of our society.”

Photographer Josue Rivas on Indigenous Representation

Photographer Josue Rivas on Indigenous Representation

This week on Monday, October 12th, a growing number of states and cities across the country celebrated Indigenous Peoples’ Day. 

This week on Monday, October 12th, a growing number of states and cities across the country celebrated Indigenous Peoples’ Day. 

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