It is 7 pm on a Friday night. We are at a dance bar. There is a stage and a pole. The red and blue lights flickering is almost blinding. The music is loud. The setting is uncomfortable. We have the luxury of walking away and not returning. This is not the case for performers who were arriving at their workplace. It was time to change. Clients need to be entertained. 

I, along with Samundra Baniya, a field officer from Biswas Nepal, a non-governmental organization (NGO) founded by former employees of the Adult Entertainment Sector (AES), visited dance bars and dohori saajh across Sundhara, Kathmandu. “The obvious reason for them to continue working here, despite several human and labor rights violations, is the financial struggle they grew up with back home,” says Baniya. It is true, but not the only reason.

In an interactive session hosted on April 10 by Biswas Nepal, 10 female performers and one male manager of a dance bar shared their struggles while working in the AES. Their identities and ages were not disclosed to maintain privacy.

These workers resonated with what Baniya said. Most started working in this field to support their families. Some had been working for years while others had just started, and all came from low-income backgrounds These workers resonated with what Baniya said. Most started working in this field to support their families. Some had been working for years while others had just started, and all came from low-income backgrounds and dysfunctional families. One of the workers has no parents, some are victims of domestic violence and chose to escape, and most do not have a supportive family to lean on during hard times. 

Survival is their biggest challenge. “I finished my high school and had joined a bachelor’s program, but the burden of paying fees, rent, and sending money back home was crippling,” says one worker in her early 20s.  To cover these costs, she began working in the sector. “I am a volleyball player,” says another who moved to Kathmandu from a hilly district. She grew up without parents and is on her own. Working in the AES was the financially sound “decision” she made to sustain her life in the city. “I play for the district volleyball team,” she adds. Little to zero financial support for athletes makes it a burdening career choice.

The saddening truth is that most of these women want to pursue different careers. However, economic realities have forced them into a job they are not comfortable with. The pressure is extensive, so much so that one worker developed mental health issues. “I started forgetting things, and in the middle of work, I once almost passed out after drinking with a guest,” she says, looking confused. She cannot understand how it happened, as that amount of alcohol had never affected her that way before. It was difficult not to wonder if her drink had been spiked.

It isn’t simply the pressure of the work, the night shifts, or the extended hours that cause these mental health issues. The AES in Nepal is not well-regulated. Although guidelines exist, most establishments take an extra-judicial approach. “There is no respect for what we do, even if we do it to make a living,” says a long-time performer. This disrespect manifests as verbal or sexual abuse, which they are forced to endure to keep their jobs. “Most guests come to me and ask if a particular girl they like is available for the night,” says the manager present at the session. “Even though I say no, I know many managers who will entertain such requests,” he adds.

If asking this upfront is considered acceptable, one can only imagine what it’s like to work for clients with similar intentions while they are intoxicated. “If we aren’t dancers, we are servers, and they write texts on their phones to show us, asking how much we will take for the night,” adds another worker.

“They [the owner] make us drink with the guests, sit with them, or even go spend the night with them if it means the customers will visit regularly,” she says. Most women agreed with what she said. “We have a choice to say no, but it means we lose our commission,” she adds, making it a compulsion rather than an option.

However, following the owner’s instructions doesn’t guarantee a fair or timely wage. While we were on the field visit, a worker in her late teens approached us. She had just started at a new establishment after the owner of her previous workplace refused her paycheck. She was owed around Rs 12,000. Baniya mentions this is a common problem.

Most establishments do not provide valid contracts. Without legally binding documents, filing a complaint is nearly impossible. Recovering their salary through legal channels is difficult because they lack evidence of employment. They further add that all they receive is an ID card valid for six months. Sometimes, not even that. 

This problem follows them home. Finding a room to rent is already a challenge for these women. “No one wants to rent to a woman whose work involves coming home late at night,” they say. It is worse when they cannot pay rent on time. “Once, my landlord would not open the door, and we spent the night on the street,” another added. Almost everyone in the room nodded. They had all experienced this.

Advocate Rasana Dhakal, an independent lawyer who handles cases involving AES, says this is a steppingstone to deeper problems. One of the biggest fears for these women is having nowhere to live. This leads them to make harsh choices. “There are women who enter live-in relationships that result in unwanted pregnancy and abandonment,” she adds.

These relationships are often born of necessity. “Staying in a live-in relationship guarantees a roof over their head,” Dhakal says. But there is more to it: safety. Their commute back home is dangerous. With no public vehicles available at 2 in the morning, some must walk 30 minutes of eerie Kathmandu streets to their destination. “It is scary, and people assume they can say or do anything to us because we work in a dance bar,” says the veteran performer in the group. Living with someone provides a sense of protection, but it creates new hurdles.

“When there is no proof of marriage, it is difficult to claim citizenship or a birth certificate for a newborn child,” says Dhakal. While birth certificates must be provided at the place of birth, many women are refused service the moment they mention they are unmarried. The bureaucratic hurdles and blunt rudeness from officials only add to their trauma.

A question lingers: why work there if it’s so bad? Most AES workers lack a formal educational background because staying in school requires financial stability they don’t have. Jobs are scarce, and when they do find one, the wage is insufficient. “I was offered only Rs. 8,000 for a different job. There were no contracts or guarantees I’d be paid on time,” one worker notes. That amount cannot cover rent and education in Kathmandu. The AES, while challenging, offers better pay.

This is also how many are lured into the sector. Most women get these jobs through friends or relatives who claim the money is “easy.” These individuals are often responsible for bringing more workers into the fold. However, this lucrative aspect of the industry often catalyzes cases of internal and external trafficking.

“The agents who find these women jobs sometimes keep several months of their salary as commission,” says Baniya. This is internal trafficking. “However, most people aren't aware their actions constitute trafficking because legal awareness is minimal,” adds Dhakal. Furthermore, workers are often pressured to leave their current workplace for “better” opportunities offered by other owners, only to end up in worse situations.

This also involves foreign employment recruitment agencies that lure workers with false job prospects abroad using ‘visit visas,’ escalating the issue to international human trafficking. “There is a worker stuck in Dubai, the United Arab Emirates (the UAE), who left on a visit visa. She is not allowed to leave her workplace,” says Kalpana Sapkota, Program Manager at Biswas Nepal. The worker tried to run away but was caught and returned. Her only hope now is to reach the Embassy of Nepal for repatriation. The nearest embassy is in Abu Dhabi in the UAE. 

These issues were identified through direct conversation, but many establishments in the Durbarmarg and Jamal areas refuse entry to NGOs or journalists. It is a sign of clandestine criminal activity. Workers mentioned that clients prefer younger girls, and minors are often brought out after midnight and hidden away whenever authorities are near. While evidence is hard to gather, the workers confirm it happens.

The problem is not necessarily the industry itself, but the lack of regulation. “This industry gets a bad name because of how people view it,” says Tara Bhandari, founding chairperson of Biswas Nepal and a former AES worker. “It’s a place where you eat, drink, and watch a performance. With strict rules, this could simply be a workplace.”

The demand from these workers is not to shut the establishments down. They want job security, ensured safety, legally binding contracts, and intervention from employers when clients misbehave. “We are doing this to make a living, too,” they ask. “Why should it cost our dignity?”