A year ago, I was visiting brothels, madams, and feminist advocacy groups all along Hastings Street to talk to women about the benefits and dangers of doing sex work in the city.
A reminder, in light of today’s Supreme Court ruling, of the situation then.
The Supreme Court’s landmark decision today striking down Canada’s prostitution laws marks a pivotal moment in the long-running debate about sex work regulation, but Vancouver has been grappling with these issues for decades. Long before today’s ruling declared the existing laws unconstitutional, this city had developed an unofficial understanding of how sex work would operate within the constraints of federal legislation — an understanding that prioritized harm reduction over enforcement.
That informal framework emerged from years of practical experience dealing with the realities of sex work in the Downtown Eastside and other parts of the city. Police, health authorities, social service agencies, and advocacy groups had evolved a complex web of policies and practices designed to keep sex workers as safe as possible while operating within laws that often made their work more dangerous.
The massage parlor industry along East Hastings provided a particularly clear example of how this system worked in practice. These establishments operated in a legal grey area — technically offering therapeutic massage services, but widely understood to provide sexual services as well. This arrangement allowed for regular health inspections, consistent locations that police could monitor, and working conditions that were generally safer than street-based sex work.
What struck me most during those interviews was how pragmatic the approach had become. Police weren’t pretending these businesses were purely therapeutic, but they also weren’t conducting aggressive enforcement campaigns that would drive the industry underground. Health authorities worked with the establishments to ensure safe practices and regular STI testing. Advocacy groups had developed relationships that allowed them to provide support services without having to pretend the sexual commerce wasn’t happening.
The women I spoke with understood this delicate balance intimately. They knew which establishments were considered safer, which police officers were more likely to be reasonable if problems arose, and how to navigate the various health and social services available to them. Many had been in the industry for years and had seen how enforcement crackdowns typically made their work more dangerous without reducing demand.
This Vancouver model wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t uniformly applied across all forms of sex work. Street-based workers, particularly those struggling with addiction or mental health issues, remained vulnerable to both violence and harassment. The legal ambiguity meant that workers had little recourse when they encountered exploitation or abuse. But compared to jurisdictions with zero-tolerance enforcement approaches, Vancouver’s harm reduction philosophy had demonstrable benefits for worker safety and public health.
The feminist advocacy groups I interviewed represented different perspectives on sex work, but most agreed that criminalization made workers less safe. Some focused on helping women exit the industry, while others advocated for full decriminalization and labor rights. Despite their philosophical differences, they shared common ground in opposing laws that pushed sex work into dangerous circumstances.
The international context was always part of these discussions. By 2012, advocates were closely watching developments in New Zealand, which had decriminalized sex work in 2003, and various Australian states with different regulatory approaches. The evidence from these jurisdictions suggested that thoughtful regulation could improve working conditions without increasing human trafficking or other harms that opponents often predicted.
Vancouver’s medical and public health communities had also developed sophisticated approaches to serving sex workers. Specialized clinics provided confidential health services, while outreach workers maintained relationships throughout the industry. These services operated on the principle that sex workers deserved the same health care access as any other residents, regardless of the legal status of their work.
The economic realities were impossible to ignore. Sex work generated significant income for women who often had limited alternative employment options. Many of the workers I interviewed were supporting families, paying for education, or dealing with economic circumstances that made other work insufficient to meet their needs. The criminalization approach essentially told these women that their economic survival strategies were inherently immoral and dangerous, without offering viable alternatives.
Today’s Supreme Court ruling validates much of what Vancouver’s harm reduction advocates had been arguing for years: that the existing laws made sex work more dangerous without providing meaningful protection for the women involved. The court recognized that prohibiting activities like operating a brothel or living off the proceeds of prostitution often forced sex workers into more isolated and dangerous situations.
A reminder, in light of today’s Supreme Court ruling, of the situation then — and how much of Vancouver’s unofficial approach was already moving in the direction the court has now mandated.
