Human trafficking is a juridical concept invented in the nineteenth century that reappeared in the late twentieth century. The concept was created amid discussions about policing of national borders and reflected panics concerning the ideal of feminine purity, when women were seen in the discourse of the time as needing protection. In this chapter we will show how discourse in support of combating human trafficking for sexual exploitation has used ideas about gender and raciality to justify policies to contain migration. The twentieth century was marked by conquests of women”s rights, and white women are no longer seen as being in need of protection as were those of the nineteenth century. However, attributes that are both accusatory and victimizing still weigh on non-white women, especially when they are involved in sex work across national borders. In these terms, there is no space for women understood as victims of trafficking for sexual exploitation to be able to affirm their labour demands based on their own understandings about what constitutes sex work, violence, and exploitation.

The history of the print media”s engagement with sexuality is a topic of enormous complexity. Depictions of sexuality in the periodical press are shaped by cultural attitudes and beliefs, representational and reporting practices, political economies, and audiences across time and space. The print media have been richly social since their inception, and all but the most rigorously controlled media systems have covered topics of a sexual nature. Sexuality has been represented as an object of social regulation, a topic of prurient interest, a problem to be solved, regulated, or eradicated, a form of commerce, and even a patriotic or religious duty. The press has played a major role in the modern project of demarcating normal sex and sexual subjects from deviant practices and identities. It has fomented moral panics around sexuality and helped liberalize sexual norms, sometimes simultaneously. The commercial, advertising-driven press developed in tandem with the sexual content it contained, and has long been a vehicle for racialized narratives of rape, imperiled femininity, and vice, adultery, and divorce. Through advertisements, classifieds, and specialized content in “obscene” journals, print media have, in some contexts, advertised sexual services and even brought people together for various types of sex.

This chapter explores race and sexuality in three parts. After a preamble that explores uses and definitions of race both historically and by historians, the first part examines representations of race and sexuality in relation to the politics of race and sexuality, via such historical figures as Sarah Baartman, Josephine Baker, and Jane Nardal. The second part considers administrative and legal policies as well as forms of social control that were used to control sexuality along the colour line, with references to Cleopatra, legal codes such as the Code Noir, the Scottsboro affair, sex work, and sex talk in the Americas, West Africa, Europe, and Southeast Asia. The third part considers a newer trend towards exploring the influences of love, family, community, and kinship networks upon discussions and experiences of sexuality and race, via examples such as the Signares of Senegal or the ballroom houses of Harlem. One of the points of this chapter is to show how histories of empires, and those of encounters between the Global North and the Global South, were also histories of sex and race.

Sex in nineteenth-century Cairo played out on a stage of relentless change and adaptation. The city’s urban life witnessed a significant rise in population growth, transformations in family and household structures, the rise of an Egyptian nationalist elite, and the gradual demise of African and Circassian slavery. Because of the divergent approaches taken with this topic, this chapter focuses on the unequal power relations that shaped Cairene sex, using canonical texts and archival documents to tease out the connections between sex and family life, nationalism, slavery, the justice system, and sex work. Specifically emphasized are stories and narratives written by literate Egyptians and Europeans, and how their ideas of domesticity, freedom, and political authority operated in relation to sexual practices. In doing so an explanation of sex in nineteenth-century Cairo is put forward that highlights celebrated and forgotten sources, prioritizing key works that inform our current understandings of sex. The chapter discusses memoirs and political treatises written by prominent Egyptian nationalists, explores the rich possibilities raised by archival records and their differences from European traveller accounts, and concludes with what nineteenth-century sources can (and cannot) tell us about queer ideas of sex.

This chapter provides a thematic overview of commercial sex across time and space. Each section seeks to identify continuities and shifts in the way people debated, policed, and practiced commercial sex. While the analysis focuses primarily on the modern period, the chapter starts in antiquity to discuss the gendered and hierarchical notions that different societies and groups have used to refer to the ‘flesh trade’. A second section deals with the regimes and actors that have sought to control, repress, regulate, or decriminalise/normalise the sale of sex at the local, national, and international levels. Where possible, the voices of women and men who traded physical sex for money or other benefits are included in the analysis. The bottom-up approach is further developed in sections three and four, which focus on the structure and working conditions of the sex trade and profile the sellers of sex, intermediaries, and clients. A concluding section reflects on stigma, an issue that seems to have remained constant in the long history of (female) prostitution, and on coercion and consent, concepts that can be regarded as typically modern.

Two differing ideas characterized the city of Toronto throughout the twentieth century. The first, Toronto the Good, represented the aspirations of religious leaders, reformers, politicians, and police officers to create a city modelled after Christian morality. Sexuality was meant to be expressed in the confines of the private, monogamous, heteronormative family home. Sex was for procreation, not pleasure. Contrary to Toronto the Good was a second idea, Toronto the Gay, a 1950s tabloid reference to the variety of spaces available for sexual exploration and desire. Sex work, queer sex, interracial marriage, divorce, birth control, and abortion endured despite intense enforcement of sexual morality. This chapter explores the tensions between the idealism of Toronto the Good and the sexual opportunities of Toronto the Gay.

The freedom and power of citizens was buttressed by the exclusionary effects on non-citizens. My reading of Apollodoros’ Against Neaira ([Dem.] 59) in Chapter 5 exemplifies the practical results of the ideology of freedom on all levels of Athenian society. The case calls into question the limits of citizenship and demonstrates how a status transgression can impair the jury’s own power. The prosecution speech alleges that Neaira, a resident foreigner, is guilty of pretending to be a citizen. As a foreign, female sex laborer, Neaira represents the antithesis of the model citizen. Neaira’s arrogation of citizenship privileges, however, gives her a measure of positive freedom and power. In contrast to other readings, I show that power struggles are crucial to analyzing the prosecution’s arguments. The prosecution attempts to show that instead of doing “whatever she wishes,” Neaira deserves to be subject to others doing “whatever they wish” to her. Apollodoros’ characterization of her transgressions as destabilizing citizenship indicates the centrality of autonomy and power to citizen identity. Hence, the importance of positive freedom was not simply theoretical, but practical.

In Roman Egypt, Greek remained the language of rule but the introduction of the Roman legal system and practices resulted in changes within the bureaucracy and an increase in documentation. Declarations were now required for birth, death, taxes, and much else. There were minor changes in the vocabulary of slavery, but in terms of acquisition and use much remained unchanged. There was an active market in slaves who were primarily employed in the home. There is further evidence for slaves in labouring jobs, artisanal roles, in entertainment and sex work. Imperial slaves held some important administrative roles, and slaves might act as business agents in urban settings. Slave labour was little used in agriculture, though the balance between free and unfree changed over time. As earlier, the boundaries between these categories were sometimes blurred. There is evidence, too, for the manumission of slaves. Documents translated in this chapter illustrate the situation.

Throughout the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Flemish women had been active in key stages of cloth production, such as weaving, or other finishing crafts (apart from fulling). However, when the textile industry shifted during the fourteenth century towards guild-controlled production of more expensive woollens, job opportunities for women declined. Their involvement as independent workers became rather restricted. They were gradually pushed towards lower-paid, labour-intensive activities in the preparatory stages of cloth production such as washing, combing, carding and spinning the wool. As no scholar on either side of the English Channel has ever considered the position of immigrant women in the fourteenth century, we are left with several open questions: would this shift in production within the urban industries be one of the push factors? How better off were Flemish women if they emigrated to England (alone or with husbands)? The purpose of this chapter is to examine the economic activities of Flemish women in England, with a specific focus on the textile industry and the ways in which women contributed separately from their male compatriots.

This chapter shows how changes to officeholding shaped practices of arrest in the capital. It uses a new dataset to rethink established accounts of early modern policing based on widespread participation. Most arrests in London were made by men and, from the late seventeenth to the mid-eighteenth century, a growing proportion were made by officers. At the same time, constables and their colleagues acquired greater powers to arrest people on the basis of suspicion alone. These powers were frequently used against poorer women, who officers arrested on ill-defined charges of vagrancy, night-walking, or suspected theft. In the early eighteenth century one judge called for closer adherence to due process in such arrests, but this had little long-term effect.

This chapter shows how changes to officeholding shaped practices of searching in the capital. Searches are a neglected feature of the history of law enforcement. Common law protected houses from being searched, except in pursuit of suspected criminals. Even then, searching houses required the presence of officers with specific warrants. Those who did not have houses of their own were less able to resist searches by non-officers or searches without warrants. Searches of people were entirely unregulated, restricted only by cultural norms about gender and social status. The poor were less able to resist being searched than the rich. Women could insist that they were searched by other women for the sake of modesty, though this was not always successful. Women were much more likely to be invasively searched than men. Searches of women by officers were especially intrusive and sometimes violent, giving tangible expression to the links between policing and gendered power.

Reynolds v. McNichols is a 1973 opinion from the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals. Although the plaintiff was never convicted of prostitution or diagosed with an infection, she was held, examined, and involuntarily treated for sexually transmitted infections under the city of Denver’s “hold and treat” ordinance. The Tenth Circuit rejected her due process and equal protection challenges to the ordinance. In her feminist rewrite, Professor Wendy Parmet questions the health officials’ assumptions that female sex workers are “the primary source of venereal disease” and that the city can only protect the public’s health by forcibly treating them. She holds that the application of the ordinance to the plaintiff was discriminatory and that, under the circumstances, the defendants’ forced treatment of the plaintiff violated her right to privacy and their failure to obtain a warrant before forcing her to submit to a medical examination or remain in detention constituted an unreasonable search. In her commentary, Professor Aziza Ahmed situates the case in terms of historical responses to sex work under the banner of public health.

Chapter 5, “The Politics of Sexual Labor,” describes the various manifestations of and shifting attitudes toward sex work in the archipelago, from the “flower and willow world” of bygone times to today’s “soaplands.” Leaving behind centuries of thriving “pleasure quarters” – whose most prominent courtesans and geisha were the object of countless works of art and literature – the modern nation-state increasingly attempted not to suppress the trade but to control and manage it. Though the Anti-Prostitution Law was implemented in 1956, its impact on the sex industry in Japan has remained contested; given the weak legal barriers to what is a segregated prostitution system, customers continue to flock to a range of establishments brimming with sexual services and catering to numerous fantasies