By Lauren Lee

Proof of Life NYC: A photo series by Lauren Lee

Prostitution, Labor, and Modernity: How Sex Work Shaped Buenos Aires

By Bella Barnes

7

What is deemed labor and who determines its validity or centrality to the formation of a city? In this historiographical essay, I am interested in how public authorities and society came to recognize sex work as labor in metropolitan cities, and how this validation shaped urban life. Moreover, I am interested in how the gendered bodies in these spaces determine the enforced laws. Interactions between women and authorities undoubtedly influenced the mobility of citizens in public spaces, and in spaces deemed private. Yet, where does the demarcation of public and private begin and end? Historians of Buenos Aires have paid special attention to the history of prostitution and sex work as forms of labor. Thus, my essay will survey the work of scholars whose studies of these cities have portrayed sex work as a part of various aspects of urban development—as a valid form of making money, attracting tourists, or being detrimental to the health of Argentinian society. Historians have highlighted the relationship between sex workers and the law. My work is particularly interested in the formation of city centers as they relate to labor economies. When was sex work deemed favorable for the evolving urban center, Buenos Aires? Was there ever a distinction between the casual sex trade and upscale brothels, mimicking the redlight districts of Amsterdam, Paris, and Berlin? Donna Guy’s Sex & Danger in Buenos Aires: Prostitution, Family, and Nation in Argentina recounts the breadth and prevalence of the sex industry within Buenos Aires and how the sex trade became regulated—whether in the form of registering workers or health inspections, portraying sex work as both as a medical and moral crisis. Moreover, Guy highlights the exacerbating influence of social factors such as disenfranchisement, lack of education, and access to lucrative and sustainable job opportunities that drove over thirty percent of Buenos Aires’ young adult women to engage in sex work by 1910 (42). I am interested in how systems of patronage, class, and propriety affected housing and neighborhood development within Buenos Aires. Furthermore, I seek to understand how a body of work regarding prostitution formed. The formation of such scholarship and its importance to the creation of both cities not only ideologically, but physically, appointing specific parts of the city to be red-light districts is also of note to me. Most importantly, I want to understand how and when historians come to understand sex workers as laborers—not as criminal or wayward women subject to the moralizing gaze of society.

The transformation of the arid lands of Patagonia to the bustling metropolis of Buenos Aires owes its beginning to widespread immigration, both legal and otherwise. Multiple aspects of the ever-evolving Buenos Aires made the city a desirable destination for European immigrant women. At the turn of the 20th century, the importation of “desirable” European bodies became a key part of Argentina’s national improvement project. Guy’s use of “desirable” is particularly of note with the cheap steamship fees and the lure of Buenos Aires as a rapidly growing, predominantly male, port city that made it easier for single women to migrate to the city. The gender imbalance of Buenos Aires, coupled with the late nineteenth-century immigration incentivizing efforts of the Argentine government, brought European women to the capital in droves. Guy’s rhetoric surrounding “desirable bodies'' also lends itself to the Argentinian government’s promotion of rural settlement. Her point about desirability politics makes the Argentine government’s dedication to the process of “pacification” of the interior’s indigenous population and “colonization of the desert” quite clear (Yarfitz 2019, 33). While the majority of immigrants came from Italy and Spain in search of manual labor, many Eastern European Jews fleeing poverty and persecution in the late 19th century were also invited to assist in the rural colonization of Argentina. Yet the discrimination Jewish laborers encountered followed them to their new homes. Although they were, as Guy suggests, “invited to assist '' in the urbanization of the Argentinian coast, Jewish laborers were seen as “others” and different from Argentinian women. Perception of difference among the immigrant and local women further impacted labor and housing opportunities for newly arrived women (Schettini 2017, 3). In response to discrimination faced both abroad and now as “foreign interlopers” in traditional labor markets, many immigrant women turned to prostitution as a response to their poverty, for a community of fellow immigrant women, and for a dependable income (Yarfitz 2019, 42). Continuing Schettini’s rhetoric of otherness, historian Mir Yarfitz indicates that the “othered” nature of Jewish prostitutes concentrated their labor in specific districts of Buenos Aires, particularly in a concentration of registered brothels in the Once neighborhood. In 1908, this region became the exclusive zone of prostitution within the city, as local officials refused to establish new bordellos outside of the boundaries of the Barrio. In response to this, local public health officials established outposts throughout the Barrio. As a result of the exoticization of Jewish women’s bodies and laws regulating

bordello establishment, Jewish laborers settled often near where they could get work, establishing a predominantly Jewish community in the eastern region of the city. Yarfitz’s recounting of neighborhood change within Balvanera, Buenos Aires elucidates the link between prostitution and other types of business. Guy also draws attention to the legalization of prostitution through condoning bordellos as legal businesses, but adds that authorities granted certain neighborhoods “special rulings for politically powerful groups,” giving them the ability to own bordellos a mere block away from schools instead. Furthermore, the legalization of prostitution had a social impact in the manner that it prevented women, both foreign and local, to occupy jobs and roles—particularly in commercial areas—that were historically deemed only for men.

Public health physicians, also known as higienistas, wreaked havoc on the lives of working women in Argentina, calling for the containment of women in the home, and encouraging women to embrace and identify with the domestic sphere as equitable labor. In response to the legalization of prostitution, public health officials blamed the increase of syphilis and venereal disease on the lack of interest in reform of prostitution ordinances, calling for a registration of laborers, specifically of women working in the sex industry, to quell rising cases of venereal disease and bring order to these “wayward” women (Guy 1995, 12). Moreover, the public health officials served as an extension of the police force, calling for the removal of registered women from public spaces, such as cafes and busy streets, and even preventing working women, most of whom lived in the same neighborhood in downtown Esmeralda 76, from keeping their windows open at certain times of the day (Guy 1995, 18). The criminalization of women deemed prostitutes served as another way to regulate labor within Buenos Aires, while still ensuring maximum profit for the local government. Yet, many historians differ on the potential legality of women who work as prostitutes, regardless of the laws endorsed by the Argentinian government. As historian Eusebio Gómez asserts, one could argue that prostitution has the same origin of crime: “prostitutes and criminals have the same character in being unproductive and antisocial...prostitution is a form of impotent criminality that could free the woman, more often men, from crime that is more violent or destructive” (1908, 24). However, the legalization of crime, coupled with the overall misogyny of labor regulation in Argentina may give one pause in reading

Gómez’s thoughts. How could women make money for their families without being considered de facto criminals? Reacting to Gómez's concerns, Cristiana Schettini’s assertion regarding the types of prostitution, including various positions within the service industry, frames prostitution ultimately as a broad field of labor, not contained solely to sex work. During the turn of the 20th century, the lack of jobs spurred men and women alike to participate in the sex trade as means of steady pay. Authorities had an ambivalent perspective on sex work overall, and its necessity to the economic wellbeing of the city (Schettini, 2017, 28). According to Schettini in the anthology Selling Sex in the City: A Global History of Prostitution, 1600s-2000s, public officials and doctors resorted to “a broader category of ‘clandestine prostitution’ which included various types of occupations, such as actresses, waitresses in cafes and taverns, and a multitude of other types of activities carried out by female workers who went about their business in the city” (García et. al 2017, 83). Often, as Schettini clarifies, women’s labor classification as “prostitutes'” had more to do with who was in their immediate proximity, rather than the actual labor they undertook. Women working in public-facing spaces that required conversation with men outside of their families or marriages were deemed “clandestine prostitutes,” stigmatizing a range of women who worked in places where men socialized in contexts loaded with class and gender tensions, such as bars, brothels, and even restaurants where women worked as waitresses (Quiroga and Gayol 2000, 196). Thus, one must ask whether or not the true function of the establishments where these women worked was even considered by most historians, or solely the gender of the laborers themselves. Furthermore, Schettini’s insight into the labor of women deemed prostitutes, clandestine or otherwise, is two-fold, as women deemed prostitutes were also seen as muses, occupying an integral role in literature, plays, and the narratives that were dramatized and documented in the lyric of nationally broadcasted tangos (Casadevall 1968). These tangos acted as cultural exports, furthering the impact of women involved in prostitution not only as local figures worthy of their own lore but as caricatures of Argentinian culture. One can only imagine what a tourist would think of South America, let alone Argentina, if this was their only exposure. As a result, the tango, particularly Pascual Contursi’s “Mi noche triste'” and “Flor de fango,” became wildly popular both nationally and globally in the late 1910s. Yet, as Schettini laments,

historians have neglected to focus on the social organization of the sex trade, the social lives of prostitutes, and their relationships with other types of workers and social groups throughout Argentina (Young 2012, 465-67). Without the context of these social relations, one cannot grapple with the implications of immigration on the shifting relationship of sex work, labor, and national identity. Greatly influenced by European immigration, Buenos Aires’ sex workers were a heterogeneous blend of newly arrived Jewish immigrants and others deemed racially different than the criollo elite of Argentinian society. There are many references to Argentinian men having a predilection for French women, as they were seen as “civilized” sex, while Jewish women were seen for their sexual and racial “otherness” (McGee Deutsch 2010, 106). In his dissertation turned novel, Impure Migration: Jews and Sex Work in Golden Age Argentina, Dr. Mir Yarfitz describes the effects immigration and prostitution had on the colloquial Spanish language itself, shaping not only physical urban space, but theoretical and interpersonal relationships throughout the city. For instance, Yarfitz found that the term polaco or polaca (Polish man and Polish woman) became synonymous with the many Jewish immigrants from Poland to the countries along the east coast of South America at the turn of the 20th century. “Polaca'' became vernacular for “prostitute,” and has been used to refer to any prostitute whether or not of Jewish or Eastern European descent. A Polish university graduate and decorated Red Cross nurse found it such a handicap to be known as a Pol that she Latinized her name: she told the investigator that “to own yourself as a Pol in Rio was to brand yourself as a prostitute.” In response to antisemitic discrimination, many women often claimed other nationalities if they wished to be viewed as respectable. Often, working women falsified their names, pretending to be French for the higher status and price French women garnered in the sex work industry (Yarfitz 2019, 93). Although they made up most of the labor force, foreign women were not owners of the lucrative brothels where they worked. Discrepancies within the number of foreign-born prostitutes working often confounded records, yet most of the brothels were owned by Argentinians and employed a majority of immigrant women. Moreover, in her brilliant work, Sex and Danger in Buenos Aires, Guy contends that the brothel licensing system, which came into force in 1875, appears to have encouraged the development of regulated brothels with numerous working women (1995, 35). The

multitude of women, booming business, and quantity of brothels made it less of a hassle for brothel owners, many Argentinian middle-class men, to pay the fees requested by the municipality the brothel was located in. Thus, regulating prostitution became a way to transfer funds generated by prostitution into municipal coffers (Schettini 2017, 15). Moreover, provincial capitals and cities, like the capital of Corrientes, that did not legalize prostitution, tended to draw fewer women and in turn experienced large-scale male migration to more economically active areas, including prostitution, factory work, and other forms of labor to bolster its economy (Guy 1994, 5). As Guy stipulates in her ground-breaking work, El Sexo Peligroso, the differences between clandestine prostitution and registered prostitutes mainly contrasted in their treatment by local labor authorities. In Buenos Aires, Guy argues that registered prostitutes' labor was strictly regulated as a performance or an act of physical labor itself. Operating within the scope of authoritative standards, Guy suggests that registered prostitutes had to define meet-up locations for their clients in terms of their proximity to educational institutions and places of worship (1995, 23). Similar to the theatre, certain days were deemed dark, or unavailable for women to work. These included Christian holidays and feast days, yet one must wonder how authorities enforced these laws. Furthermore, Guy’s rhetoric surrounding the prostitutes as laborers suggests that the women were able to solely toil during set working hours on the streets. For instance, Guy remarks that clandestine prostitutes were required to pay monthly fines to municipalities, but were not required to register as prostitutes or sex workers. Yet, registered women were forced to pay taxes in addition to submitting to regular medical examinations to prove their labor (1994, 18). Interestingly, Guy’s findings act in direct contrast to the views of more medically-based historians who argue that the rise of prostitution, the pervasiveness of brothels, and the human trafficking of young women to fulfill the local desire for foreign prostitutes, led to the economic downfall and decay of the city (Yarfitz 2019, 90). Furthermore, as Guy asserts through her evidence of the convergence of prostitution, public space, and economic prosperity, multiple interests relied on the regulation of prostitution in Buenos Aires. The interconnectivity of the sex trade to the profit of many within the urban landscape subsequently aids readers in understanding why the regulation of prostitution was one of the main causes of conflicts between the municipal

authorities, the police, brothel owners, and the prostitutes themselves. Additionally, the legal implications of prostitution and its ability to shape social relations within the city fascinate me as it relates to the enforcement of appropriate labor. There were significant challenges in determining what labor was truly deemed sex work, “backed up by the code of contraventions and police edicts, the police created a sphere of legitimacy for moralizing measures in public spaces, which coexisted with a veiled acceptance of cabarets, night clubs, and hotels that rent out rooms by the hour (Código de Faltas y Edictos Contravencionales, Guy 1994, 22). However, the legitimization of prostitution no doubt had consequences, not only for the city as a whole but for those affected most directly: the working women. In response to the legitimization of prostitution as labor, Guy interestingly concludes that employed women sought the right to continue garnering employment outside of roles deemed clandestine prostitution and organized in reaction to authoritative dismay. Women went on strike to protest unfair wages and their prevention from working in factories, for factory work was portrayed as dangerous due to the possibility of women interacting with men outside the home and exposing themselves to substances that could render them barren. Therefore, only widows were able to legally work in factories (Código de Faltas y Edictos Contravencionales). Guy’s account fails to take into consideration unwed mothers and other women needing to support children and other family members. Guy points to anti-waitressing campaigns as the linchpin of labor organizing among women, yet one could argue that the true source of the unrest had been boiling since the rhetoric surrounding women’s right to work began with widespread immigration decades before (1994, 20). The centralization of Jewish women in the Once neighborhood led to increased ability to organize and strike in response to discriminatory labor laws and practices, spreading working women’s rights throughout various industries, specifically in factory work, throughout Argentina. Various historical lenses help us ponder how the legalization of sex work allowed Buenos Aires, and subsequently Argentina, to thrive at the turn of the 19th century. Cristiana Schettini’s research in her chapter, "A Social History of Prostitution in Buenos Aires,” grants invaluable insight into how the regulation of prostitution, categorization of clandestine and registered laborers, and social mores influenced the physical landscape of Buenos

Aires. Moreover, her insight demonstrates that women becoming registered prostitutes was not a reaction to gendered immoral values, nor as castaways of industrial capitalism at the turn of the 20th century. Rather, they were laborers who refused the ability to work in the manufacturing industry or outside of the home, due to gendered misconceptions of skill, sexism, and desire on behalf of the Argentinian government to continue income revenue—in both clandestine ways and otherwise. The success and establishment of Buenos Aires, albeit contentiously, was largely due to the profits and immigration associated with prostitution, a key fact that cannot be taken away from the city’s past, present, or future.

Bibliography

Bliss, Katherine Elaine. Compromised Positions : Prostitution, Public Health, and Gender Politics in Revolutionary Mexico City. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2001.

Casadevall, Domingo. El Tema de La Mala Vida En El Teatro Nacional (Buenos Aires, 1970); José Sebastián Tallón, El Tango En Sus Etapas de Música Prohibida (Buenos Aires, 1959); Sirena Pellarolo, Sainetes, Cabaret, Minas y Tangos (Buenos Aires, 2010). n.d.

Gómez, Eusebio. La Mala Vida En Buenos Aires. Buenos Aires, 1908. http://hdl.handle.net/2027/njp.32101075697639.

Guy, Donna Jay. El sexo peligroso: la prostitución legal en Buenos Aires 1875 - 1955. Colección Historia y cultura. Buenos Aires: Ed. Sudamericana, 1994—— —. Sex & Danger in Buenos Aires: Prostitution, Family and Nation in Argentina. 1. paperback print. Engendering Latin America 1. Lincoln, Neb.: Univ. of Nebraska Press, 1995.

Quiroga, Marcial. “‘Aspecto Actual de La Prostitución’, Semana Médica, 3 (1962), p. 1785; Carretero, La Prostitución En Buenos Aires, p. 196; Sandra Gayol, Sociabilidad En Buenos Aires: Hombres, Honor y Cafés, 1862–1910 (Buenos Aires, 2000),” n.d

R. Rodríguez García, Magaly, Lex Heerma van Voss, and Elise van Nederveen Meerkerk. Selling Sex in the City: A Global History of Prostitution, 1600s-2000s. Boston, UNITED STATES: BRILL, 2017. http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/columbia/detail.a ction?docID=5013638.

Schettini, Cristiana. “A Social History of Prostitution in

Buenos Aires.” In Selling Sex in the City: A Global

History of Prostitution, 1600s-2000s, n.d. Accessed

April 21, 2021.

Yarfitz, Mir. Impure Migration : Jews and Sex Work in

Golden Age Argentina. Jewish Cultures of the World.

New Brunswick, New Jersey: Rutgers University

Press, 2019. https://ezproxy.cul.columbia.edu/login?qurl=https%3a %2f%2fsearch.ebscohost.com%2flogin.aspx%3fdirect %3dtrue%26db%3de025xna%26AN%3d2275722%26 site%3dehost-live%26scope%3dsite.

Young, Richard. “Sirena Pellarolo. Sainetes, Cabaret, Minas y Tangos. Una Antología. Buenos Aires: Corregidor, 2010.” Revista Iberoamericana 78, no. 238 (2012): 465–67. https://doi.org/10.5195/reviberoamer.2012.6915.