Brandina Kantsamwa’s nights are spent navigating a world that offers her little choice and even less compassion.

As a sex worker striving to make ends meet, she faces not only the daily uncertainty of her trade but also the sting of abuse from clients and the harsh ridicule of a community that refuses to see her humanity.

Blandina’s story is not just about survival, it is about resilience in the face of stigma, and the unspoken questions of dignity, safety, and acceptance that linger at the margins of Malawi’s society.

“I joined this trade due to economic challenges at home.” She narrates. “But the challenges that come with it are immense.”

Operating in Mwanza border district, Brandina says most of the abuse she suffers comes from clients men who sometimes refuse to pay after agreements, or who become violent during sex. She recalls one harrowing encounter when a client beat her severely for demanding the payment they had agreed upon.

“I thought I was going to die that day,” she says. “Thankfully, I am still here to tell the story.”

Beyond the abuse she endures, Brandina also faces ridicule and discrimination within her own community. She recalls the pain of being removed from the beneficiary list of the Social Cash Transfer program because she is a sex worker.

“The leaders explicitly said, ‘She’s a prostitute, remove her from the list,’” she recounts.

For Brandina, such exclusion reinforces her sense of isolation. It pushes her deeper into the work she does, as she believes there is no help available to her outside of the solidarity she finds among other women in the same trade.

Another person in the trade facing similar challenges is Jamilla, president of the Sex Workers in Mwanza district.

However, her path into sex work was shaped by a different kind of hardship. Unlike Brandina, it was not poverty that drove her into the trade, but the abuse she suffered at the hands of her ex-husband. The violence and mistreatment she endured at home eventually pushed her out, leaving the streets as her only refuge and source of survival.

Jamilla, too, speaks of the abuse she endures not only from clients but also from the wider community. The stigma attached to her work follows her everywhere, making even the most basic needs difficult to access. She explains that seeking health services can be a challenge, as she is well known in the area for her trade.

The discrimination she faces at clinics and hospitals leaves her feeling unwelcome and unsupported, reinforcing the isolation that already defines her life. For Jamilla, the violence of clients is compounded by the quiet cruelty of a society that denies her dignity, even in moments when she seeks care.

Health rights activist Dorothy Ngoma has strongly condemned the discrimination and stigma faced by women in sex work.

“It begins with the name we call them,” she says. “The moment one says ‘sex worker’, people are already judging. It’s high time we found a better name for them for example, I call them slay queens.”

Ngoma warns that unchecked stigma carries serious consequences. “With the nature of their job, if these women are denied access to health services, the chances are high they will infect their clients who are our brothers, fathers, and uncles,” she cautions.

She has since called for a shift in mindset and better coexistence between the community and sex workers.

“Believe it or not, this trade practiced not only by women but by men too is not going anywhere. The best we can do is ensure that we live with them amicably, while protecting ourselves.” She concludes.

FemWise Malawi project coordinator, Tionge Kalua Mhone, stresses that sex workers must first be recognized as human beings.

“We should not treat them based on their work,” she emphasizes. “Because despite everything, they are human working to fend for themselves and their families.”

Mhone calls for empathy and a shift in perspective, reminding society that dignity and respect should never be conditional on one’s occupation.

Jamilla, who also serves as president of female sex workers in Mwanza, is determined not to take these challenges lying down. Together with her colleagues, she has introduced measures to strengthen their safety and protection.

“We know that we have a duty to protect ourselves,” she explains. “So, we alert each other whenever we have a client and where we are going, so that our colleagues know and can come help whenever needed.”

Jamilla also revealed that, unlike in the past, they now enjoy a better working relationship with protection service providers including the police victim support unit. She says officers there give them time and attention when they report cases, a shift that has offered them a measure of reassurance and recognition.

Her leadership reflects a growing determination among sex workers to reclaim agency, build solidarity, and demand accountability from institutions meant to safeguard their rights.

The stories of Brandina and Jamilla reveal the harsh realities faced by sex workers; realities marked by violence, stigma, and exclusion. Yet they also highlight resilience, solidarity, and a growing demand for recognition.

It is a narrative that insists sex workers are human first, deserving of respect, healthcare, and protection. Their voices remind us that ignoring their plight does not erase their existence it only deepens the risks for them and for society at large.

For Malawi, the challenge is clear: to move beyond judgment and embrace coexistence, ensuring that every citizen, regardless of their work, can live with dignity and safety.