‘On Black Sisters Street’ Showcases the Nuances of Sexual Trafficking

Written by Precious Uzoma-Nwosu

Edited by Veronica Vivi

Illustrated by Noella Abba

While growing up, there were rules set by my father that were never to be compromised on, and
among them was not spending holidays with another family aside from our own. I was greatly
disturbed by this boundary, as my friends often share tales of their visits to their relatives’ houses
after the school breaks. As I became wiser, I realized that my father felt his children would be
safe from sexual exploitation, including sexual trafficking, if we stayed within his watch.
Therefore, it was home, school (although boarding), church, and places that were supervised by
him or my mother – he did not want to leave any loopholes.

His fears were rightly placed as according to a scientific analysis by the World Health
Organization (WHO), approximately 35% of women globally, have experienced physical or
sexual violence. So, he was just a father striving to shield his children, especially his four
daughters from such violence, sexual trafficking included. However, while his apprehensions are
valid, the issue is more nuanced. Social conditioning (namely unemployment and poverty), and
failed governments, come into play in sexual trafficking, irrespective of whether attentive parents
or not.

Great help in shedding light on these nuances include Nigerian movies such as Itohan, Muna,
and Oloture, where the main characters were either survivors, victims, or secret investigators.
Additionally, books, especially by Black women who have in-depth knowledge of these topics,
also revealed the layers of the details of sexual assault, its psychological impact, and its
infringement on women’s rights. A notable example is On Black Sisters Street, a work by Chika
Unigwe, an Afro-Belgian writer who is a recipient of multiple awards for her writing, and who
holds a Ph.D. from the University of Leiden. The book narrates the chilling tale of four women
sex workers (Sisi, Ama, Efe, and Joyce), thrown together by Dele (a pimp) and fate in an
apartment in the red-light district of Antwerp, from the shores of Africa (Nigeria), bringing with
them an invisible bag saddled with stories only unpacked when Sisi is murdered.

Europe, among other countries, has been identified as a hot spot for the sex industry. According
to the European Parliament, in 2017–2018, over 14,000 identified victims of trafficking were
reported by EU nations, with 72% being women and girls. Women and girls belonging to this
72% were also from other countries, as a BBC interview with a Nigerian victim of sex
trafficking depicts Copenhagen’s Vesterbro (red light district), where she was unsuspectedly
trafficked, as a hub for prostitution for traffickers serves as an example.

With Nigerian sex workers letting her into their lives and a grant from Het Vlaams Fonds Voor
de Letteren, Chika also reveals Belgium, the setting of On Black Sister Street, as a trafficking
territory in Europe, showing streets where Black women in sexy lingerie are displayed in a glass
box like accessories to attract customers. Using Belgium as backdrop, Chika explores in depth
the themes of sexual trafficking and slavery, revealing different angles to her readers.

Firstly, human traffickers and pimps do not often present themselves to the victims as they truly
are. Their camouflage can be likened to the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing: they offer
promises of a better life (opportunities victims could not access in their home countries), fake job
offers, deceptive romance, and education from sugar-coated lips that could make even cautious
parents fail to see right through them. According to Sofia Papadopulos (2020:2021), migration
and trafficking both find their root causes in the context of origin: it is commonly agreed upon
the principle that people migrate (whether legally or not) for seeking better conditions of living.

However, with Dele’s guileful mannerisms, it was obvious to the girls what was expected of
them: prostitution. He, nevertheless, sold this idea with the promise of a better life for those
wanting to improve their living conditions. Therefore, for unemployed Sisi, the arrangement
seemed fair: travel outside, work with her body, pay Dele with the money she acquired from it,
save some for herself, and live the life of luxury she has always wanted. Unfortunately, a
shocking truth awaited Sisi, as she realized that she would not be granted asylum and be
considered persona non grata in Europe. Under these circumstances, she could not work on her
terms – her body was no longer hers and she was open to sexual exploitation and harassment
from customers. Dele’s games were well-played. Further, through Ama’s story, we derive that
family neglect and mistreatment could also be a factor in sexual trafficking. Ama’s driving force
to go to a foreign land was to prove to her family – her father (Brother Cyril) who sexually
molested her for years, and her mother who chose marriage over her daughter – that she could
lead a successful life without them.

While it is easy from the comfort of our homes to scoff and ask victims, “Why then didn’t you
try to leave such a situation?”, On Black Sisters Street informs the reader that victims face
significant difficulties in case they desire to leave, as their passports and documents are often
confiscated from them upon arrival. They are, therefore, forced into sex slavery by the debt of
accommodation and travel, which is to be paid in installments, and normally take a couple of
years to complete. Moreover, those who took direct action to regain their freedom, such as Sisi,
place themselves at risk of getting their lives cut short by their pimps and organization, which
hardly leaves a feasible way out. Readers also discover that those who engage in this system of
exploitation are not just uneducated individuals unaware of its risks and repercussions, but also
literate ones like Madam. Despite knowing the harm and trauma sexual trafficking causes to
young women, they do not care and only focus on making profits and being in power.

Finally, through my supervisor, when I intended to utilize On Black Sisters Street for my thesis, I
discovered that the text has been studied by multiple academics in their research on the sexual
exploitation of women. I am delighted that On Black Sisters Street has been acknowledged
within the academic community as it deserves all the recognition it can get. While I encountered
this text for the first time during my college years, I strongly believe it should be included in
high school literature curricula to educate young minds. This education fosters self-assurance
and the ability to speak out against trafficking, thereby contributing to its prevention. Perhaps, if
Dele had revealed the harsh realities awaiting the young ladies once they arrived in Europe, they might have reconsidered their decision. In addition, such inclusion in curricula could spark an
interest in young individuals to advocate for policies and programs aimed at combating sexual
trafficking and providing support to survivors in college or as a career pursuit later in life.
Overall, it is imperative to educate both young girls and boys about sexual trafficking beyond the
surface-level knowledge they might acquire from the streets or friends. This education is vital for
their safety, well-being, and the broader battle against this appalling crime.

References and Works Cited

European Parliament (2021, February 11). ‘Stopping Human Trafficking: MEPS Call for More Action’. News of the European Parliament.

Deirdre, F. (2022, April). ‘Sex Work and the City: Liminal Lives in Chika Unigwe’s On Black Sisters Street. Journal of Migration and Culture Studies, 13(1), 47-60.

Papadopoulos, S. (2021). ‘Human Trafficking for Sexual Exploitation Purposes: A gender-based approach to the Nigerian – Italian route’. Institute for International Law of Peace and Armed Conflict-Ruhr University Bochum.

Pressly, L. (2021, October, 23). ‘Trafficked to Europe for Sex: A Survivor’s Escape Story. BBC News.

Unigwe, C. (2009). On Black Sisters Street. Random House.

WHO (2013), “Global and regional estimates of violence against women: prevalence and health effects of intimate partner violence and non-partner sexual violence: Executive summary”, WHO, op. cit.

Precious Uzoma-Nwosu is a culture, content and creative writer who specialises in topics relevant to women and covers other thought-provoking and intriguing stories that matter. Precious has written for reputable magazines like AMAKA Studio, Resonate, Voice Box, Culture Custodian, Adventures From, Document Women, Gay.Uk, etc. and is also a book reviewer. You can reach her on Twitter @adannaya.

Illustrator – Noella Abba, Instagram: @symphonianoella

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I May Destroy You, Atlanta and Get Out: Afro-Surrealism and the everyday horror of Blackness

Written by Laura Hackshaw

Edited by Veronica Vivi

Illustrated by Daley North

This is a show tune
But the show hasn’t been written for it, yet

Hound dogs on my trail
School children sitting in jail

Black cat cross my path
I think every day’s gonna be my last

Lord have mercy on this land of mine
We all gonna get it in due time
I don’t belong here
I don’t belong there
I’ve even stopped believing in prayer

– Mississippi Goddamn by Nina Simone

‘‘Afro-Surrealism is drifting into contemporary culture on a rowboat with no oars…to hunt down clues for the cure.’’

– D. Scot Miller – Afrosurreal Manifesto: Black is the New Black a 21^st Century Manifesto (2009)

*This essay contains spoiler alerts for several TV shows and films

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Learning the Multiplicity of Being with Akwaeke Emezi

Written by Amuna Wagner

Edited by Veronica Vivi

Illustrated by Olamide Florence Adeoye aka Sharp Txngue

Do you believe in spirits? And does it matter whether you do? Akwaeke Emezi taught me that to Black people this question is essential for collective survival the day I stumbled upon Freshwater (2018) in my partner’s bookshelf. The novel pulled me into the life of Ada, the child of a Nigerian father and Tamil mother who suffers the pain of being a spirit trapped in flesh. An ọgbanje, to be exact. Ada is born a screaming baby “with one foot on the other side” (back cover), only a half-step ahead of madness. When she moves to the United States for college and her boyfriend sexually assaults her, spirits that have been living inside her emerge and assume increasing autonomy: the feminine Asughara, masculine Saint Vincent, and a collective “We” of brothersisters. Ada continues life as a fractured, multiple being, navigating her several selves’ desires and darkness.

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Centring Pleasure Activism with adrienne maree brown

Written by Amuna Wagner

Edited by Veronica Vivi

Illustrated by Olamide Florence Adeoye aka Sharp Txngue

“How do we make social justice the most pleasurable human experience?” (back cover) asks adrienne maree brown in her phenomenal book Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good (2019). Guided by its opening chapter, Audre Lorde’s “Uses of the Erotic: Erotic As Power” (27-37), the anthology explores a world that centres pleasure and care for ourselves and others. The book doubles as a collection of radical theories and a study guide of hands-on practice. I was living in Cairo in 2021 when I stumbled across a class on pleasurable feminisms; a group of people gathered weekly to intimately study the book, intrigued by brown’s question: “How can we awaken within ourselves desires that make it impossible to settle for anything less than a fulfilling life?” (back cover). Over the course of three months, Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good reordered my world view and became my road map on how to live a consciously political life without guilt.

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Octavia Butler is in Defence of Failure: Kindred’s Black Grief as a New Dawn

Written by Alma Simba

Edited by Katya Zabelski

Illustrated by Sage Anifowoshe

I come to Dana through Saidiya. And Saidiya comes to Dana in relation to Venus. We all convene under a sky of grief particular to black women. Of the crushing weight of history. I pick up from where Saidiya leaves off. The archive, the futility, the resignation to language and history never being enough. Of failure as the new sky. But maybe also the new dawn.

I come across Kindred by Octavia Butler in a reference by Saidiya Hartman’s 2008 article, “Venus in Two Acts.” In the article, Hartman explores how the history of domination must be accepted by black people to try and untangle it. The article functions as a continuation of her earlier book, Lose Your Mother, where she charts the journey of the middle passage, loss, and connection to history. In “Venus in Two Acts,” Hartman continues this historical reconstruction and methodological struggle when she writes of a young girl who was murdered on a slave ship with little further information cited in the records. In both, Hartman highlights the difficulty in deciphering the blankness and violence in black historical narratives, while discussing the different options in the weighted obstacle of writing black history.

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Sisters of the Yam and (Re)politicising Mental Health with African Feminisms

Written by Michelle Udoh

Edited by Temitope Lasade-Anderson

Illustrated by F. Seck

I think of mental health as the world’s lingua franca. I hear it spoken in the kitchen when female relatives season their meat with salt, Maggi, and tales of patriarchal violence. Its cadences caress the mouth of my elders as they gather and recount harrowing memories of the Biafran War. My friends and I speak it quite fluently as well: we use it to gist and articulate the many pains and joys that come with adulthood. The fascination that I have with this language, one that entwines our psychosocial wellbeing with our lived realities, is the reason I chose to study Neuroscience for my undergraduate degree.

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What’s the price of feeling seen? Dido Belle and historical representations of Blackness

Written by Kimberley Aparisio

Edited by Katya Zabelski

Illustrated by Holly Summerson

In the summer of 2021, I wandered into Kenwood House, a stately home situated in the middle of Hampstead Heath, North London. Therein, I encountered this image.

Princess Henrietta of Lorraine, attended by a page (1634) by Van Dyck

The portrait provoked thoughts about the infantilisation of black men and the reinforcement of spurious inferiority through images and media. I continued to make my way through the gallery, where I came upon the only other historical portrait of a black person.

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Her Nuclear Waters: An Appeal to Transcendence in Diaspora Art

Written by Mekhala Dave

Edited by Hannah McGurk and Ketaki Zodgekar

Illustrated by Jahnavi Zondervan

As a result of this globalised world, in the echo of the text from the Her Nuclear Waters comic by Chitra Ganesh, ‘tattoo her onto this city’s skin, stroke by stroke by stroke’, I moved into and away from borders. Borders, at once as the physicality of territories of nations, and as cultural, psychological and linguistic divides; as sites of violence and militarisation.

A picture containing text

Description automatically generated — Her Nuclear Waters, Chitra Ganesh (2013)

My story is an urban journey that takes place within the acceleration of globalization that opened passages of information and access to new intimacy with locations. The unfolding of the expansive Arabian moonrise over the sea, on an Alpine landscape and the mystifying rays of sun upon Scottish lochs. The poignancy of this untouchable safety in my childhood memories, nourished by the universal scenes of the Earth has persisted well into my adulthood. However, in my adulthood, I have developed a deep concern about the shape shifting of identities in our hyper-technological era, and this is something I have never explored within university curricula.

Chitra Ganesh’s artistic world of comics creates a dystopian comfort through the intermingling of feminine hybrid bodies and the divinity of cyborg-like elements with Lacanian texts. Informed by her own upbringing in the US, with South Asian roots, she inhabits a duality in her lived experiences, and depicts a transcendental churning of artistic expression in her comics. At first glance, her comics compliment the Afrofuturist tradition: a term introduced by the scholar Mark Dery and developed by Alondra Nelson in the 1990s, to describe the African cultures and jazz musicians that reimagine the power of African root and conjure futuristic tales of empowerment (Nelson, 2012). Understanding this decolonial practice as a recreation of an imagined future opens us up to new frames of interpreting Ganesh’s art. For example, in The Cyborg Manifesto, Donna Haraway (1991) rejects dualities that limit a feminist world view, such as: Western/Eastern historie and animal-human-tech divides. Haraway posits that a cyborg identity could represent women of colour, and other ‘Othering’ (outsider) identities that subvert normative white women identities. As she articulates, the cyborg identity’ does not know the Garden of Eden, does not know mud and cannot return to the dust’ (p. 151).

Just as Haraway rejects Biblical thematic spin, instead embracing the cyborg identity, there is mysticism in Chitra Ganesh’s dystopian universe too: a fiery flame-like landscape with high fumes, a scene in which an accident has taken place, with the injured blended into the shards and pieces of materials in the calamity. In the loom of a gracious feminine creature with a space-like suit, from her, a gush of blue liquid spills onto the injured like an anecdote, submerging them. There is ambiguity as to whether the feminine creature only just met with the sight of the accident or if the anecdote gestures a part of her duties and this space-like suit certainly separates her from the injured, whose nakedness denotes a vulnerability. The feminine creature looks upon the injured with an observing yet sympathetic gaze, as she kneels by the injured, her figure is thrown into not only a caregiving role but also as a savior of the injured. The female form is often depicted in victimized, eroticized or even helpless roles, but this comic offers a welcome respite, instead acknowledging the female form in an active, skilled labour and even a heroic commanding role. Perhaps the feminine creature in the space-like suit is staring at the carcass of her old self that she left behind in order to embrace this new-found cyborg identity whilst she struggles to revive her new self and to entirely let go of her old self. The image is gripped with mysticism, but one thing is clear: there is no point of return.

Furthermore, in the text ‘…under her skin rise and fall: an immortal jellyfish, of unspoken pleas & mechanical hands’ (Ganesh, 2013) we see Donna Haraway’s commitment to viewing hybridity as a site of affinity, not of identities, but of kinship. The soul of a cyborg identity is here fueled by elements of being human, of nature, animal, and technology, without borders/divides. Unlike Donna Haraway’s embrace of a singular hybrid identity, the scholar Homi K. Bhabha (2004) carves out a third space for identity. The ‘third space’ recognizes the antagonism within the diaspora, between wanting a nostalgic return to the merits of the past, a ‘nation’s dust’, and the misalignment of settlement in a nation that is socioculturally opp. Not imposed and non-hierarchical, the ‘third space’ does a charming dance in recreating a ‘safe’ hybrid space for the diaspora.

In Chitra Ganesh’s comics inspired by the Amar Chitra Katha comics from India, which recount popular Hindu stories, her artistic tones draw subjectivities of the cyborg identity, as opined by Donna Haraway. Further her work bleeds into the third space, a conjuring of Homi K. Bhabha’s ‘third space’ by addressing this diasporic antagonism. Art exists in “high” forms, within a white cubic spaces, where Chitra Ganesh’s comics adorn gallery walls, but also in “low” forms: comics in the hands of children and adults alike or familiar memorabilia in personalised spaces. As globalisation accelerated through the 1990s, unwinding and flattening access to information with a postmodern force, South Asian diaspora art like Chitra Ganesh’s remains a spot-on testimony to my lived experiences across locations. The simplistic terminology “diaspora” means “dispersion from the land of origin” – it doesn’t just embody dualities, as propounded by Donna Haraway, but goes beyond them. We need to enact real diversity and inclusion to mend our fractured curriculum – in studies of identity and media, but also of borders and oppression and culture. However, a truly transformative educational reform in the way that we look at, immerse in and connect with art, requires the recognition that our intimacies lie in the study of ourselves in relation to the others, and that identity and Othering often overlap in ways that mirror our complex, collective, interwoven lived experiences of our world.

Works Cited

Bhabha, Homi K. (2004). The Location of Culture. Abingdon: Routledge.

Haraway, Donna Jeanne (1991). “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century”. Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. Routledge.

Rambsy II, Howard (2012). “A Notebook on Afrofuturism”. Cultural Front.

Mekhala Dave is a doctoral researcher at the University of Applied Arts Vienna. Her research is at the intersection of art and law. Her focus is on human rights representation from visual cues of art that is political and activist on issues of migration, ecology and gender.

Ketaki Zodgekar is a Research Assistant with the Sexual Violence in Armed Conflict project and a Master of Public Policy candidate, an editor for Project Myopia, and Frank Knox Fellow at Harvard Kennedy School.

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The Violence of a Thousand Paper Cuts: Recognising Bias in the Archives

A conversation between keondra bills freemyn and Rianna Walcott

Edited by Maia Walcott

Illustrated by Maia Walcott

In this conversation between keondra bills freemyn and Rianna Walcott they discuss the importance of recognising bias within both archival institutions and the archiving processes themselves. In this short interview we learn how keondra stumbled into archiving by collecting dear memories and holding them safe, which later evolved into a deeper love for recording other’s stories and ‘living archives’. They discuss problems with ideas of the ‘canon’, the need for structural change, and how we understand memory.

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Flo, Not My Job & Rejecting the Idea of the ‘Strong Black Woman’

Written by Anita Mowete

Edited by Veronica Vivi

Illustrated by Florence Aina

Black women are often expected to put their heart and soul in relationships, even if it is to their own detriment. However, just because you can, does not mean you should.

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