Queer Muslim sex worker reveals realities of everyday life in London

Maryam, a young queer Londoner, doesn’t identify with traditional gender norms.

Some days she wears a hijab, other days she wraps a scarf up like a turban. Between drinks in Soho with her girlfriend and queer friends, she is heavily involved with her local mosque and her family are hoping to settle her into an arranged marriage. And she occasionally does sex work.

Her identity as a queer, Muslim sex worker - as you can probably imagine - is not always met with understanding. Yet here she is, existing and navigating a white, heteronormative world that claims she can’t exist.

When we first meet up to start recording the podcast together, we jump right into talking about her journey in identifying as both a gender fluid, queer woman and Muslim.

“There are times I can be dressed as a man, there are times I can be androgynous, and right now I’m just sloppy,” she laughs.

“I’ve always been drawn to women, but when I was in high school I completely repressed it.”

The realisation that ‘jolted her awake’ was learning that, while the world may be heteronormative, there are other people out there who don’t fit that mould and there are a million possible ways to identify.

While Maryam navigates her queer identity, her family are lining up potential suitors for a Muslim husband.

“I stumbled upon a form which is basically a profile to organise an arranged marriage.

“I was reading it and it just said my name, age, my brothers’ occupations, my parents’ occupations, and my academic status.

“In my head, I was like ‘that’s so funny’ because if somebody asked me who I was, ‘student’ would not be the first thing that comes to mind. But that was all they could write about me.”

The next time Maryam and I meet, we’re having a cup of tea in her family home and upstairs in her bedroom, she shows me how she earns money doing sex work online.

On her laptop, she opens up a site that she uses regularly to message clients. Today, one man is thanking her for a worn skirt she posted to him. She replies, asking what he’d like next.

Another message comes in from a different client - this time more demanding but his request isn’t unusual, she tells me.

A man has asked her to wear a pair of tights to the mosque and post them - dirty - to him for a fee. Many clients, she finds, are fascinated by her faith and Pakistani British heritage.

“They might think they have the power because they’re playing out this colonial fantasy in which there’s this brown woman living in poverty who needs a saviour. No, no - I know exactly what they’re playing at,” she says.

The stereotype of sex workers as white, heterosexual women is clearly not only unrealistic, but also unhelpful. Dr Nicola Smith, author of Queer Sex Work and lecturer at the University of Birmingham explains: “Why would it not be true that there would be many LGBTQ sex workers? We know that in the rest of social life, the presumption of heterosexuality is very problematic.

“What the stereotypes are most successful in doing is depicting the industry as a place of simple dichotomies, so that the complexities and diversities can be neatly erased.”

When I meet Maryam for our last podcast interview, it’s almost been a year since we first sat down to record. It’s incredible how much has changed in the past few months, including coming out to her family, and I can’t help but be moved by her strength and bravery.

To follow Maryam’s journey, subscribe on iTunes, audioBoom or RSS. You can also follow on Twitter @queerpodcasts.

Queer Muslim Sex Worker, the podcast documentary, is out May 3, 2017 and is free to download.