In the heart of Lahore, where ancient Mughal architecture stands beside bustling tech startups and glittering malls, there exists a world often shrouded in silence. The lives of sex workers—referred to in local discourse as “call girls”—remain one of the city’s most misunderstood and stigmatized realities. To speak of them is to confront a tangle of moral judgments, socio-economic inequalities, and the shadows of a society that often prefers to look away. Yet behind the labels and whispers lie stories of resilience, survival, and the urgent need for compassion.
Lahore is a paradox. It is a city that celebrates its vibrant culture with Mela Chuhar Jamal, yet criminalizes vulnerability and economic desperation. Prostitution in Pakistan is not illegal, but the surrounding activities—running a brothel, pimping, or soliciting in public—are punishable under the 1979 Hudood Ordinances, which reflect conservative Islamic legal codes. This legal ambiguity places sex workers in a precarious position: neither fully protected nor explicitly condemned. Many operate in the margins, navigating the risks of exploitation, harassment, and societal rejection.
For many, the decision to engage in sex work is not a choice born of desire, but of necessity. Poverty, gender-based violence, and lack of access to education and economic opportunities often leave women—and sometimes transgender individuals—with few alternatives. In Lahore, where gender inequality persists despite urban progress, the pressure to provide for families or escape abusive relationships can drive individuals into the sex trade. “It’s not the life I imagined,” one woman, who chose to remain anonymous, once shared in a 2019 report by the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan. “But when I was left with nothing—no education, no job, and my husband beating me daily—this was the only way to feed my child.”
Sex work in Lahore is not a monolith. Some operate discreetly through online platforms, using social media to connect with clients in the urban elite. Others work in the city’s red-light areas, such as the informal settlements near the Lyallpur and Samundri roads, where poverty blurs with survival. The rise of the gig economy has even led to the emergence of “app-based” services, echoing global trends but embedded in a distinctly South Asian context. Yet, for all its modern trappings, the industry remains riddled with exploitation.
Many sex workers are recruited at a young age, often by pimps or family members, trapped in cycles of indebtedness and abuse. Transgender individuals, particularly those who identify as khawaja sira, face unique vulnerabilities. Stigma and discrimination often exclude them from mainstream employment, pushing them toward street-based sex work, where the risks of violence and police harassment are heightened.
In Lahore’s conservative society, discussing sex work openly is taboo. Even progressive circles often frame it as a “moral failing” or a problem of “bad women,” ignoring the systemic forces at play. This silence has dire consequences. Without legal protection, sex workers are unable to report abuse, access healthcare, or seek redress for exploitation. Fear of public shaming prevents them from connecting with support networks, and many live in isolation, cut off from families who disown them. Call Girls Lahore
Yet, there are those who challenge this narrative. NGOs like the Punjab Police’s Women Development Cell and international organizations such as AIDS Control Society of Punjab work to provide anonymous HIV testing, legal aid, and vocational training to sex workers. These efforts, however, are fragmented and often underfunded, struggling to address the scale of the issue. “We don’t want charity,” one advocate explains. “We want the right to live without fear. We want dignity.”
The existence of sex work in Lahore is not merely a reflection of individual choices—it is a mirror to the city’s broader contradictions. It exposes the gaps in education, the failures of gender equality, and the fragility of economic security for marginalized groups. Just as Lahore’s bazaars have long been crossroads of trade and culture, so too does the city’s sex trade reveal the hidden economies of survival that exist alongside its opulence.
To engage with this issue is to confront uncomfortable truths. It is to acknowledge that dehumanizing language and moralistic outrage often obscure the human stories beneath. It is to recognize that every “transaction” is layered with context: the child left behind in a slum, the trauma of abuse, or the daily fight for a basic income in a city where a cup of chai costs more than a day’s wages for some.
Lahore’s future depends on its willingness to see these invisible narratives. Ending the stigma requires more than policy changes—it demands a cultural shift. Education initiatives, economic empowerment programs, and legal reforms that protect, rather than criminalize, the vulnerable are critical. But equally important is the power of storytelling. When Lahore’s intellectuals, artists, and writers give voice to the marginalized, they challenge the silence that upholds systems of inequality.
The story of sex work in Lahore is not one of shame but of systemic failure and human resilience. To write it, we must do more than expose the shadows—we must light them, one by one. Only then can we begin to build a city where dignity is not a luxury, but a right.