rostitution, long regarded as a taboo subject in Pakistan, is once again pressing itself into public consciousness—not merely as a moral question, but also as a serious social issue. In recent years, covert sex markets have expanded in major cities such as Islamabad, Lahore and Karachi, operating behind the facades of salons, spas, private apartments and online platforms. While the state and society remain engaged in a theatre of denial, the realities on the ground point to a deepening crisis—one that demands a sober sociological analysis rather than moralistic condemnation.

Historically, prostitution in the subcontinent evolved through complex cultural and political shifts. During the Mughal era, courtesans or tawaifs were not simply sex workers but also artists, musicians and poets, often respected in elite cultural circles. However, this changed under British colonial rule, when prostitution was systematised to serve colonial troops under laws such as the Cantonment Act of 1864. This era also marked the imposition of Victorian morality that stigmatised indigenous practices and redefined prostitution solely as a deviant act. Pakistan inherited both the colonial legal structure and its moral ambivalence. Red-light districts like Lahore’s Heera Mandi continued unofficially, while sex workers were marginalised in the absence of legal protection and social recognition.

Today, prostitution in Pakistan is neither legal nor explicitly banned under a cohesive statute. Instead, it exists in a legal grey zone where laws, such as the Hudood Ordinances, are selectively used to criminalise vulnerable women, while demand-side actors—clients, pimps and facilitators—largely escape scrutiny. The social hypocrisy is glaring: what is condemned in public is quietly consumed in private. Recent police raids in upscale sectors of Islamabad and affluent neighbourhoods of Lahore and Karachi have exposed the involvement of influential individuals, foreign nationals and educated youths, indicating that prostitution is not confined to a particular class or geography.

From a sociological standpoint, prostitution cannot be separated from structural inequalities. Poverty, unemployment, gender discrimination, domestic abuse and lack of education push many women—and increasingly transgender persons—into sex work. For some, it is a last resort after exhausting all other means of survival. For others, especially those trafficked across borders or within the country, it is a life of coercion and captivity. As Pierre Bourdieu suggests, individuals with minimal access to economic, cultural and social capital are often forced to commodify the only asset they possess: their bodies. Bourdieu’s concept of symbolic violence further explains how such individuals are subjected to societal marginalisation and exploitation, reinforcing the cycle of poverty and powerlessness that often defines their lives.

Digital technology has drastically transformed the sex trade. Social media apps, ride-hailing platforms and encrypted messaging tools now serve as conduits for connecting clients and sex workers, making the trade harder to trace and regulate. This shift has also moved sex work into elite and middle-class neighbourhoods, away from traditional red-light districts.

We must acknowledge prostitution’s reality—not to endorse it, but to address the exploitation, disease and systemic injustice that accompany it. 

The risks remain grave. Sex workers frequently face harassment, extortion, sexual violence and lack of access to healthcare. Worse still, when they contract sexually transmitted infections, including HIV/ AIDS, they are often unable to access medical attention due to stigma, fear and apathy.

Public health experts have repeatedly warned that unregulated prostitution contributes to the silent spread of infectious diseases. According to UNAIDS, Pakistan has witnessed a steady rise in HIV cases, particularly among high-risk groups such as transgender persons, intravenous drug users and sex workers. The lack of formal health checks, sex education and outreach programmes has turned this into a ticking time bomb. Countries that have chosen regulation over repression — such as New Zealand, Germany and the Netherlands — have shown that decriminalising and monitoring sex work reduces disease transmission, protects workers’ rights and enables access to health services.

The debate around legalising or decriminalising prostitution in Pakistan remains deeply polarising. Conservative segments argue that it will promote immorality and destabilise the family system. On the other hand, some human rights advocates, sociologists and public health professionals maintain that banning prostitution has never eradicated it—it has only made it more dangerous. The core issue is not morality versus immorality, but visibility versus invisibility. When sex work is criminalised, it simply goes underground, making it harder to regulate, more vulnerable to abuse and more likely to spread disease and crime.

The current approach in Pakistan punishes the victim while protecting the system. Women are arrested and shamed, while their male clients are often let off without consequence. Law enforcement agencies are known to demand bribes, offer ‘protection’ in exchange for a cut of earnings and in some cases, exploit the women. The lack of shelters, rehabilitation centres, vocational training and psychological support ensures that most of these women remain trapped in the cycle of exploitation.

What is needed is a nuanced, humane and evidence-based approach. First, the state must clearly distinguish between consensual adult sex work and trafficking or child exploitation, criminalising the latter. Second, health and human rights must be prioritized. This includes access to sexual health services, legal aid and support networks for sex workers. Third, the demand should be acknowledged and addressed. The social construction of masculinity that permits male sexual entitlement while condemning female autonomy should be challenged. Finally, sex workers must get a voice in policy debates.

Prostitution forces a society to confront its moral contradictions, revealing how gender, class, law and power intersect. Pakistan must stop pretending silence equals virtue. To progress, we must acknowledge prostitution’s reality—not to endorse it, but to address the exploitation, disease, and systemic injustice that accompany it. Only then can we find solutions rooted in empathy, justice, and reason, rather than shame and silence.

The writer is a researcher based in Islamabad. He can be reached at zakiir9669@gmail.com