Selling Sex as an Edgework: Risk Taking and Thrills in China’s Commercial Sex Industry

Introduction

I met Wendy (24) at a mid-tier bar in Dongguan, south China. She was sporting a new outfit and showing off newly manicured nails. In our conversation, she revealed that she made enough money from sex work to quit. I asked, “Then why wouldn’t you stop, if you have made enough money?” She stared at me blankly before answering,

Five years ago, I told myself I would stay in this field for five years. Then 5 years went by and I am still in this field . . . It’s not that simple . . . I feel like I am addicted to certain sexual activities. I get excited and thrilled. The sex thrill helps me forget my pain and reality . . . So now I feel that by (age) thirty I will become a businesswoman and open my own fashion shop . . . and I should be able to move on then . . . but who the hell knows? Fingers crossed [smiles]. (Wendy, 24, mid-tier FSW)

Wendy articulates an unremarkable albeit emblematic reflection on the complex position that she and her fellow sex workers face when considering the benefits, drawbacks, and possibilities that come with leaving the commercial sex industry. Reasons include pull-push factors (Ravenstein, 1885), psychological motivations (James & Meyerding, 1977), and financial factors (Rosen & Venkatesh, 2008). Some situations are so complex, it is difficult to decide if it is even best to leave. The literature on the career histories of sex workers in urban China document the manifold challenges and risks involved in sex work. Sex work is often framed as work that is done primarily out of necessity. The experiences of female sex workers (FSWs) with economic and social means to pursue alternative options are often underanalyzed in research on the commercial sex industry. As such, the complexity and diversity of sex worker’s motivations and experiences are not adequately recognized. Therefore, the literature on sex work in China suffers from both limited scope and the overly general narrative that sex work is simply an undesirable occupation.

In the sociology of sex work, the notion of edgework has rarely been applied to female sex workers in China. First applied to skydiving, edgework is engaging in risky activities, not just thrill seeking, but a means of demonstrating mastery or skill, “controlling the seemingly uncontrollable” (Lyng, 1990, p. 872). According to Zinn (2015), risk-takers engage in “edgework” to challenge themselves. Edgeworkers carefully cultivate their skills, and then take great pleasure in pushing these skills to their limits. Edgework lends itself to explain many aspects about sex work. Edgework can explain how FSWs frame the risks they face to adequately navigate and deflect those risks. Some risks are not viewed as negative; some risky aspects of sex work can give some FSWs positive feelings about themselves and their work. Edgework can explain why FSWs in south China develop new skills, marry Hong Kong businessmen, and yet decide to remain in the commercial sex industry.

In addition, by understanding how sex workers use edgework to remain in the commercial sex industry, we can understand the importance of these women’s professional identities and social ties (Batchelor, 2007). Sex workers participating in edgework pursue their distinct individualized paths toward modernity in ways that depart from Western norms. Mead–Marx framework’s (Lyng, 1990, 2005) emphasis is on the intense sensations of self-determination and control against structural alienated labor experiences. This work interpolates the importance of individualization in the Chinese path toward a risk society. While W. J. Miller’s (2005) work is on illegal female edgework from a Western cultural context, it largely misses the fact that edgework can be seen in part as an agential attempt to resist the structures of the Communist Party that seek to keep the rural peasant class marginalized. Linking individualization to edgework explains sex workers’ experience with risk and fills a gap in the existing literature on China’s commercial sex industry. It reframes the discussion on edgework as a conversation which includes the views and experiences of women.

By conceptually linking individualization to edgework in today’s commercial sex industry in China, three research questions are generated. First, why these Chinese female sex workers might view sex work as edgework (thrilling sexual desires, pleasant and reciprocal relationships with clients and coworkers, creativity and other skills to manage risks)? Second, whether sex workers’ entry or staying in the sex industry can be linked with the intersectional resistance of traditional gender norms and class oppressions as rural women to use their unique way to pursue individualization and modernity in Chinese context? Third, what factors make the sex workers return to sex work after they have successfully migrated out of their career through marriage by doing edgework as a strategy to cope with alienation/discrimination/identity crisis brought by their marriage in Hong Kong?

Two sets of data help address these questions. The first set of data was collected in three different niche markets in Dongguan over 36 months of fieldwork from 2013 to 2017. This set of data generally explained what types of activities reinforce the idea that sex work is edgework, and address how individualization intermingles with gender and class. The second set of data was collected from Hong Kong-based sex workers during the summers of 2015 to 2017. This set of data reinforces Mead–Marx framework on actors’ risk taking within the environment, and also illustrates Lyng’s revised notion on risk in 2005 (Lyng, 2005) which focused more on actors’ calculation and psychological motivations to put themselves on the edge. All respondents in the second data set were mainland women who migrated after marrying Hong Kong-based businessmen. The respondents represent a niche portion of the commercial sex industry. Their experiences are certainly not reflective of the majority of FSWs. However, this niche group of FSWs is typically underexamined in the literature on sex work. The dearth of scholarship on edgework suggests that some important aspects about sex worker’s unique experiences are missing from the wider discussion.

From Voluntary Risk-Taking to Edgework

When risk is tackled—in the context of academic literature—there is a concerted emphasis toward exploring practices of risk management or risk reduction (Lyng, 1990; Lyng & Matthews, 2007; Short, 1984; Zinn, 2015). Within the realm of sex work, the literature on risk is well documented and heavily explored. However, on par with the discussion at large, the emphasis is generally on risk management and exploring harm reduction approaches. These risks can include health-related issues, including disease; insufficient economic autonomy (Tsang, 2017a, 2018a, 2018b; Tsang, Lowe, Wilkinson, & Scambler, 2018); drug use and trafficking; legal issues (Faugier & Sargeant, 1997; McKeganey & Barnard, 1996; Sanders, 2008); and physical harm or violence perpetrated by pimps, police, and customers (Zheng, 2009).

Stephen Lyng’s nuanced discussion on edgework focused heavily on voluntary participation in dangerous physical activities such as skydiving. He extrapolates that the attraction toward and capacity to cultivate personal and psychological fitness and technical skills to effectively manage the anxieties and consequences of said risky activities effectively constitutes edgework.

For edgeworkers, risk has value and reward. Risk offers edgeworkers a sense of meaning and agency. Individuals engaging in edgework may appear careless because of the nature of their behaviors and actions, but in fact, they are rarely reckless. Instead the edgeworker makes calculated steps to best control the outcome in highly risky situations (Zinn, 2015). Voluntary risk-takers are aware of taking a risk and the possibility of an adverse outcome. However, such judgments are based on experts’ assessment, not on the risk-taker’s assessment per se. To maintain control, Lyng’s definition hints that risk-takers are not always experts nor are they fully cognizant of the danger in which they place themselves (Lyng, 2005; Tulloch & Lupton, 2003, pp. 10-11; Zinn, 2015, p. 100).

Originally, edgework was proposed as a synthesis of Mead and Marx to extend social action and alienation. As Lyng (2005, p. 9) notes, edgeworkers have the ability to control their emotions, value self-reliance, rebound quickly, and renew their own identity. Lyng described the common pattern of contemporary life. People feel alienated in a strange environment and survive by escaping the complicated social structure by embracing intense sensations of self-determination and control against the adverse circumstances (E. M. Miller, 1991).

Although Lyng’s edgework has been critiqued for being overly preoccupied with the experiences and subjectivities of young upper-middle-class White men in industrial Western societies (E. M. Miller, 1991), his work provides a model that can help us to understand why sex workers choose to stay in the commercial sex industry. E. M. Miller (1991) mentioned risk is necessary for edgeworkers to see the thrilling activities as play. They feel bored and lose interest if everything is too easy and under control. Edgeworkers believe that they have the ability to overcome the threat in a risky situation (E. M. Miller, 1991). E. M. Miller’s (1991) work helps us to understand the link between edgework and illegal sex work in light of government crackdowns. Prostitution continues to thrive in China despite numerous attempts and tremendous efforts by the government to abolish it (Tsang, 2017b). The various “Yellow Crackdown” campaigns have had minimal effect to date. For example, there were an estimated 300,000 sex workers in Dongguan, or about 10% of the city’s migrant population, before a “Yellow Crackdown” campaign in April 2013. It was followed by a more severe one in February 2014. However, even after the campaigns, many thousands of sex workers remain working in the city’s underground venues (Tsang, 2017b).

Gender, Class, and Individualization in Edgework Analysis

This article bridges the gap between FSWs and edgework, articulating the complexities of risk within the context of how sex workers negotiate and find pleasure or satisfaction in the commercial sex industry. The existing literatures mention the relationship between risk and gender. The debates have centered on women who were engaged in sexual edgework and women who were engaged in risk (Chan & Rigakos, 2002; Lois, 2005; Rajah, 2007; Stanko, 1997; Walklate, 1997). Rajah (2007) mentioned that edgework may be differentiated across class and gender. Class is valid in China. Scholars think hukou (Treiman, 2012), cadres and others; in-system and out-system (Xie & Wu, 2008) are the three major boundaries to analyze social stratification in China. In place of class, however, this work examines the nuances of being rural Chinese and female. Edgework-resistance gives oppressed women the opportunity to experience the embodied rewards of self-authorship. Chan and Rigakos (2002) argued that women experienced risk and those experiences are shaped by the politics of gender. Walklate (1991, p. 44) said the gendered conceptualization of risk is a generated concept subjectively experienced (Stanko, 1997, p. 481). Therefore, this article brings back the terms class and gender (Chan & Rigakos, 2002; Stanko, 1997; Tsang, 2018b; Walklate, 1997), and resistance-edgework (Rajah, 2007) to edgework studies. This is crucial to how risk is negotiated and understood.

Since the late 20th century, there has been a growing body of knowledge on the concept of risk and its significance in western countries. The debate on risk highlights the dangers and threats associated with the rise of postindustrialism and how people have altered the ways in which they pursue their lives. According to Beck (1992), late modernity in the West has brought about a shift which fragmented sociocultural practices whereby individuals attempt to circumvent risks. The result is a surge in the individuation of Western countries and a declining significance of traditional fixities around class, gender, and other identity formations (Beck, 1992, p. 87). The defining characteristics of this “tragic individuation” are a growing awareness that governments are no longer capable of controlling uncertainties and risks (Beck, 2006, p. 308). This trend has also affected China where women from rural backgrounds can no longer exercise agency without having to face consequences often in the form of violence or other forms of anxieties and uncertainties. They would rather rely on the Chinese government to overcome the risks. Youna Kim (2012, p. 14) aptly states that “any possibility of creating a biography of one’s own is far from reflecting freedom of choice and individualization, but rather represents very limited possibilities and new forms of risk and injury embodied in the regulatory regime of the self. The notion of the self that is ‘free to choose’ is not simply a cultural fact but becomes an autonomous self when a woman is able to make a life for herself in her everyday existence, to make herself the center of her biography. Women in China who participate in sex work as edgework therefore do not deny that they are making decisions with calculated risks where they allow the thrills to help to disguise the risks.

Yan (2010, p. 499) notes that the Chinese government’s push toward market reform has forced individuals to assume more risks in their daily lives that results in a path toward individualization. There is a need to develop conceptual frameworks that can address the shifting subjectivities and intersectionality of critical concepts such as gender, power, and class. Anthias (2012, pp. 128-129) argues that categories in the real world already feed from each other and are

. . . contesting and splintering off in the forms they take (linked to the broader landscapes of power including political and economic practices and interests that are not reducible to the working of the categories themselves) but within time and space specifications.

Across China, women from rural backgrounds with lower class standing are going through individuation as a result of China pursuing different paths to modernity (Yan, 2010).

With this added perspective, women’s experiences are made more visible, making possible a new feminist perspective on edgework. The confluence between gender, Chinese nationality, rural peasant background, and risk are crucial to understanding how sex work is negotiated. Therefore, the centrality of individualization may be driving female sex workers toward pursuing livelihoods as edgework. Individualization is typically missing from traditional considerations of the nexus between the desire for thrill and genuine risk. Female edgework scholars from Western backgrounds such as W. J. Miller (2005) argue that if risks are too easily mitigated, the thrill of such risky experience wanes and no longer appeals. But in China, any thrill associated with sex work must be moderated with the illegality of prostitution.

Female sex workers in China negotiate a multitude of dangers, and these risks are significantly more complex than what has been offered in the literature. Some risk is attractive, and while risk management is an important aspect of sex worker’s experience, it would be inaccurate to suggest that FSWs are always risk-averse. Based on the interviews I conducted with 195 sex workers in Dongguan, Lyng’s perspective on edgework is extended in different ways. First, the major argument of edgework proposed by Lyng is that some degree of reward is obtained through a lifestyle involving thrilling sexual desires and creativities. Second, edgework explains how female sex workers negotiate unexpected risk to avoid sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), police, and emotional risks with their clients. The issue of individualization, class, gender will be addressed. Based on the second set of data collected from 39 sex workers in Hong Kong, the argument of edgework proposed by Lyng is that edgework can offer strength for the women to confirm their identity, particularly when they are living in adverse circumstances.

The Setting and Research Methods

The article draws upon two separate, albeit related, ethnographies. A portion of the respondents were interviewed as part of a significant research project conducted on the commercial sex industry from 2013 to 2017 in Dongguan. Dongguan has attracted many foreigners since China joined the World Trade Organization in December 2001. Dongguan is an important industrial city located in the Pearl River Delta and has over 25 million residents, accounting for a large portion of the Guangdong population. However, with the onset of the global economic recession in 2007, many factories went bankrupt. Many young women lost their factory jobs but found employment in massage parlors, nightclubs, sex hotels, sauna centers, and karaoke bars. Still, sex work is absolutely illegal in China and sex workers face multiple risks.

Over the course of the project, I worked as a bartender in three bar environments that were differentiated by the relative prices of sexual services. The bars were loosely designated as low-, mid-, and high-tier bars. I was able to gain access to FSWs with the assistance of local personal contacts, who enabled me to work as a bartender and build relationships over time in Dongguan. The importance of personal and professional networks cannot be stressed enough.

I was able to stay and work in the high-end bar called Dragon Palace because the owner, Ken (pseudonym), was someone I had known for many years, since we were undergraduate students in Hong Kong. We were brought in touch by old classmates and he invited to visit his bar in Dongguan, the Dragon Palace. Similarly, Henry, owner of the low-end Peach Bar, was a former college classmate, as was Kevin, owner of the mid-tier bar Lotus Club. As former college classmates there was a degree of mutual trust which assured them I was neither a police informant nor a crusader seeking to rescue the girls. In the same way, knowing these men from college (Henry and I had mutual friends) reassured me that I would be protected and watched over in this environment that was full of risk. In particular, Henry was a friend to many streetwalkers and played a vital role in putting me in touch with this very difficult-to-approach group. Henry reassured both the bar girls and the streetwalkers that I was neither an undercover policewoman nor a spy. Kevin did the same for me in the mid-tier bar at the Lotus Club. As a result, I was able to interview FSWs from diverse backgrounds. All the respondents had started their careers in the Pearl River Delta region; many came from cities such as Sichuan, Chongqing, Anhui, Heilongjiang, Jilin, and Guangdong.

In total, I interviewed 195 female sex workers (50 from high-end bar, 50 from mid-tier bar, and 50 from low-end bar, and 45 streetwalkers) in Dongguan. The respondents ranged from 18 years to 46 years of age. The respondents represented diverse economic situations. All 50 who worked in the high-end bar were financially secure. While the average monthly household income in Dongguan is 15,000 to 18,000 yuan (US$2,419-US$2,903), the high-tier sex workers average income ranged 40,000 to 50,000 yuan (US$6,451-US$8,065) per month. Among the 145 respondents who came from the mid-tier bar, low-end bars, and streetwalkers, their monthly income ranged from 9,000 to 25,000 yuan (US$1,451-US$4,032). But most of these women came from rural areas and carried the responsibility of sending money back to husbands and family members there.

The second ethnography was conducted in Hong Kong. I gained access to interview those sex workers by using my own personal network (19 interviews) from Dongguan and with the assistance of a local nongovernmental organization (NGO; 20 interviews) during the summers of 2015 to 2017. I want to explore whether the sex workers feel alienated in a strange environment like being married to a Hong Kong businessman as mentioned by Mead and Marx (Lyng, 1990). I want to know how they survived and developed such an intense sense of self-determination and control in the midst of adverse circumstances. I interviewed 39 sex workers who had migrated to Hong Kong as a result of finding Hong Kong partners through sex work. Most of them were between the ages of 22 and 39 years. They mainly came from Henan, Hebei, Hunan, Jilin, Liaoning, Anhui, Sichuan, and Yunnan. They usually worked in high-end and mid-tier bars in Dongguan before they moved to Hong Kong. Those women were conventionally attractive and had erotic capital (sexual appeal, flirtation skills, charms), body capital (including enhancements via cosmetic surgeries), and cultural capital (educational credentials, conversational skills, and manners). Many of these respondents periodically returned to the Mainland to re-engage in sex work. These women went back for various reasons depending upon their individual circumstances. Some respondents did this on a regular schedule while others worked sporadically.

Therefore, this article draws from two ethnographies. One group consisted of sex workers in Dongguan and the other group comprised sex workers working in Dongguan but married to Hong Kong businessmen. Many of the respondents had the means to rely on rental properties or stipends provided by their husbands. Prior to the interviews, I received written consent from the informants who were told in conversation and in writing about the nature of the research project. In Dongguan, interviews were held in a variety of spaces: backrooms at bars, nearby social spaces, and cafes. In Hong Kong, the interviews were held either at my work office or the NGO’s office. All informants were compensated for their time with cash coupons and/or meals. Recorded interviews, in situ note taking, postevent field notes, and less conventional methods such as QQ/WeChat interviews and photo-elicitation were utilized. Finally, community walks with the informants supplemented and amplified the data collected during the in-depth interviews.

All the interviews were recorded, transcribed, and analyzed by using a grounded theory approach and the software package Nvivo. The transcripts were analyzed by using a thematic analytic process that recognized major themes. All interviews were conducted in Chinese. I translated the Chinese transcriptions into English. I employed an inductive analysis of transcripts to see whether other themes or subthemes were identifiable. Prior to any recorded interviews, all the interviewees were given a copy of my business card and contact information, and requested to sign consent forms. They were assured they could freely withdraw at any stage in the project. The informants were fully assured at the outset of confidentiality and anonymity. Assigned pseudonyms are used; excluding their ages, no personal information was collected. All of the Chinese verbatim comments cited in this article were translated into English. To compensate the respondents for their time and participation, I presented them with cash coupons and noncash gifts (such as lunch or dinner) to each of the 195 sex workers I talked with in Dongguan and the 39 sex workers I talked with in Hong Kong. Cash coupons worth around 200 yuan (US$30) were used as incentives to encourage the women to participate in the in-depth interviews.

Understanding Today’s Commercial Sex Industry in China

Dongguan was selected as the key field site because it is typical of China’s rural-to-urban migration where women become involved in the commercial sex industry. However, since the “Yellow Crackdown” campaigns in February 2014, the commercial sex landscape in Dongguan has changed considerably. Low-end sex services have been disproportionately and negatively affected. High-end bar owners, by contrast have had the financial resource and social capital to bribe police. Since the frequent crackdowns, sex workers previously living in Dongguan have had to move to other cities, such as Hong Kong, Ningbo (Zhejiang province), and Huizhou (Guangdong province).

I met Suki, a 29-year-old “mommy” (“madam” or sex work manager) who previously worked in Dongguan in March 2017. Since the 2014 Yellow Crackdown in Dongguan, Suki worked either in Dongguan, Ningbo, Huizhou, or Shenzhen. When I met her she was working in Hong Kong. At 29, she was experienced and knew the only way to advance in the industry was to manage other sex workers. Suki is personable and outgoing and has an exceptional social network. This made it possible for her to transition and become a “madam” when she was only 26.

Suki arranges for girls to visit Hong Kong by capitalizing on the Individual Visit Scheme, a policy whereby residents from 49 Mainland cities can visit Hong Kong for up to 7 days without a visa. I spoke with a few dozen of the girls involved who told me they are ready to travel anywhere around the country. Some girls—the most popular—bragged they could see 4 to 5 clients a day. After 1 week, they simply packed up and flew somewhere else. Suki’s workers are typically around 18 to 35 years old; she said most Hong Kong sex workers are older so her girls have an advantage. Although the girls report to Suki and pay her room rent, they find their own clients and keep 60% of what they are paid.

From her share, Suki has purchased 10 apartments in Hong Kong, mainly in older buildings located in old districts like Sham Shui Po, Jordan, Yaumatei, and Sheungwan. She has renovated the 10 apartments by creating 10 tiny rooms approximately 10-square meters in size (100 square feet). All 10 rooms share access to a single small bathroom. Altogether Suki owns about 100 tiny rooms and she rents a room to each girl for the week for 2,000 yuan (US$295). Suki said she typically earns about 100,000 yuan [US$14,705] every month while some girls can earn up to 60,000 yuan [US$8,823] before paying the rent to Suki. More recently, due to Yellow Crackdowns, most sex workers are using online platform like “MeMe Live” (MeMe Zhibao直播) to avoid being arrested by police. The Weibo/WeChat/QQ/Renren groups are secretive and implicit to avoid troubles with the police. Ken—the boss of a high-end bar—told me how the girls now use online methods to surreptitiously reach clients. He says,

They’d promote and advertise girls like any other normal products. Some girls would send a message like “Beijing Retail Company, Receptionist Needed. Contact Miss Li (1997): Room E, No, 178, Xidan Lu, 4000.” At first you’d think they are a normal job advertisement but what it really means is Miss Li was born in 1997 with a height of 178 cm and a bra size of E cup, a minimum service charge of 4,000 yuan (US$588).” The workers won’t usually contact the clients directly. Rather, they are managed by the pimps who arrange the meetings with the clients. When the worker arrives in a new city, they’d change their username so it’s easier for pimps to search them up. For example: Xiao Li would change her name to “Huizhou Xiao Li” after coming to Huizhou . . . They’d usually have a picture to accompany their account so the pimp can show potential clients. If the client is not a regular, they’d have to pay a deposit first. Regular clients usually pay through Alipay or WeChat wallet [online payment methods by using smartphone in China]. (Ken, boss of high-end bar, 35)

Study Findings

Difficulties in Leaving Risk: Alienation, Discrimination, and Identity Crisis

The final research question addressed how women left sex work and why some were enticed to return though they don’t need money. This second set of data examined sex workers who migrated to Hong Kong from mainland China by way of marriage. This fits well with Mead–Marx framework on edgework which emphasized actors’ risk taking within the environment from which they live and links it up to a broader institutional social context. In addition, this set of data also fit perfectly with Lyng’s (2004, 2005) revised notion on risk whereby such actors deliberately choose to be on the edge.

The 39 interviewees had worked and resided across urban Guangdong prior to moving to Hong Kong. However, before living in the Pearl River Delta Region, the majority of the respondents originally came from rural communities across China. For many of these women, Hong Kong was an important part of their upward economic mobility and social status. In comparison to second-tier cities such as Dongguan and Huizhou, Hong Kong’s cosmopolitan status was significantly higher. However, despite being an “upward” transition, the move to Hong Kong often resulted in emotional, interpersonal, and cultural alienation. In Hong Kong they did not have significant or familiar social networks, and eventually the loneliness turned to boredom which led to bouts of depression. Among my respondents, all 39 women agreed they had no financial problem living in Hong Kong. More than 20 women out of 39 expressed their willingness to occasionally return to sex work. The problem was the loneliness and alienation that made them long for the familiar exciting risks associated with their old career.

Ferrell, Milovanovic, and Lyng (2001) argued edgework may cause boredom. The idea of boredom can be well explained from my fieldwork data. The experience related by Yifan is typical to Ferrell’s et al. (2001) idea of boredom. Yifan is a 23-year-old from Kunming who previously worked at the high-tier sex market Dragon Palace. She earned a lot of money and saved enough to leave the industry entirely. She moved to Hong Kong and now says she misses her life in China. She cited multiple reasons why she felt alienated after moving to Hong Kong, which is why less than a year later she regularly returns to China for commercial sex work. It’s not about money; Yifan has a monthly stipend of 28,000 yuan (US$4,265) provided by her husband. He gives her this in lieu of what she would have earned had she stayed in the commercial industry. For other women who have seemingly “married up,” sex work continues to be a fixture in their lives to varying degrees. Yifan says,

Every time I go to a karaoke lounge, I can’t help but show off my pole-dancing skills. I haven’t adjusted to the Hong Kong lifestyle and society yet. . . . I’m so far away from my “sisters,” it’s very boring and I can’t speak Cantonese . . . So sometimes I talk to the sisters and find a part time gig or two (as a sex worker) just to kill my boredom. (Yifan, 23)

Tina (32) shares a similar experience with Yifan (23):

After two years of staying in Hong Kong, I have reentered the sex industry. When “my sister” has her period, I will replace her and stay in Dongguan for two or three days. But, I always relapse . . . and that’s what it feels like: a relapse . . . I shouldn’t do that, but only in sex work can I find my lost identity and I feel thrilled. (Tina, 32)

Tina revealed to me that she has a better self-image and more confidence when she reengages in sex work. The lost identity reflects Tina’s self-image. Luping (29) also relayed that relationship problems coupled with the desire to be financially independent eventually lead her back to the commercial sex industry. After she married her Australian husband David, she soon realized they simply didn’t have much in common. She couldn’t go back to the bar and work, so she started finding part-time work and went to English lessons. She says,

David also spent US$1, 000 per month to hire an Australian teacher to teach me English and computer knowledge. Then I realized that this is not something I could do. I could not even work as a receptionist or in sales! I felt a little sad when I realized all I really knew was how to be a sex worker. I sleep until noon then get up to cook. One day, I told my husband “Maybe I should go back to the bar . . . I don’t want to suffer like this, even though I might need to sleep with some gross men, I wouldn’t be this tired.” After our honeymoon period, a lot of problems started to come up between us. For example, we didn’t like the same films and we didn’t share the same hobbies or lifestyle. Our love is fading and our relationship is on the brink of collapse . . . (Luping, 29)

Yifan, Tina, and Luping admitted their “economic security” depended upon their marital status and they put it at risk by engaging in sex work. This form of “edgework-resistance” (Rajah, 2007) vividly reflects how these women are tempted to return back to the commercial sex industries, but at the same time, they fear losing their economic security and husbands. Social and professional networks are crucial. Many sex workers affirmed that their social networks are vital in shaping their feelings about the commercial sex industry. Moreover, when faced with losing access to social networks and important friendships, certain personal struggles were exacerbated. For instance, the loss of personal social networks was made worse by their inability to speak Cantonese in Hong Kong which resulted in further discrimination (Lowe & Tsang, 2017). The comment by Lok (26) highlights how the cultural alienation and the (Putonghua-Cantonese) language barrier resulted in greater personal dissatisfaction and has affected her mental health:

Discrimination is very serious because I don’t speak Cantonese. In Hong Kong, if you could only speak Putonghua, Hong Kongers think you are second citizen. I can only speak Putonghua. I cannot make friends and my social life is horrible . . . I need friends who I can talk with; otherwise, I cannot survive . . . (Lok, 26)

Yaoji (26) offers similar insight:

When I speak Putonghua, Hong Kong people stare at me and get annoyed. They yell at me and their voices are very loud, I find it annoying and disgusting . . . The cultural and social conflict between Hong Kong and China is getting very serious . . . I start contacting my “sisters” who are working in China. It is easy for me to talk to them and they really understand me. (Yaoji, 26)

The women migrating to Hong Kong were faced with unique opportunities as well as unanticipated challenges in their personal lives. Many were left unsatisfied because of the discrimination and alienation they experienced as mainlanders. Through migration these women encountered a range of obstacles that were uniquely difficult to deal with. The social, cultural, and personal alienation these women felt was significant and created feelings of dissatisfaction and isolation. Although many women cited negative experiences working as sex workers, many of the respondents did not find that migration to Hong Kong, alone, improved their circumstances, given that migration had subsequently created new anxieties and conflicts that they struggled to negotiate. Derogatory slurs such as “Shina,” “dai luk lo” (大陸佬), “dai luk por” (大陸婆), or even the degenerate “Ah Chaan” (阿燦 literally, “the uneducated” or “the hayseed”) are used to describe mainlanders. In addition, disidentification with Putonghua by associating it with the atavistic or feminine affirms Cantonese as the masculine (Lowe & Tsang, 2017).

The sex workers who married Hong Kong businessmen deal with risk in what Mead and Marx further theorized as social action and alienation. The women have the ability to develop intense feelings of self-determination and control to counter the adverse circumstances. The sex workers feel alienated in Hong Kong due to sociocultural differences like the language barrier and the lost identity. At least some of the respondents failed to adjust to their new life in Hong Kong. Lacking the necessary social support, the hurdles of migration were uniquely challenging and pushed them to reconsider sex work as a way to regain their lost identity. Hiding that truth from their husbands was a risk they could at least control. All in all, sex work seemed to offer something familiar and desirable, in contrast to a new environment full of obstacles and personal conflicts.

Conclusion

The article has provided important insight and reflection on the experiences of a niche community of FSWs. These accounts help us better understand FSWs motivations to enter and remain in the commercial sex industry and even return after having left it. The experiences of the FSWs described here have been placed within the context of edgework and helps us extend the literature and expand the dialogue on the commercial sex industry in China. Lyng’s (1990, 2005) work on edgework concept is important to investigate how the sex workers selling sex as edgework and risk taking and thrills from sex work. Mead–Marx framework on female sex workers have control against structural alienated labor experiences is important to think edgework and risk taking by returning and remaining sex industry. While W. J. Miller’s (2005) work is important to rethink edgework can be seen in part as an agential attempt to resist the structures of the Communist Party. This article also interpolates the importance of individualization, class, and gender in the Chinese path toward a risk society. This article asked three research questions and explained by two empirical data why selling sex is edgework; sex workers’ exit/remain in sex industries can be linked it with traditional gender norms and class oppression; and what factors make them to return to sex work though they got married. Existing discourse on risk and sex work has suggested that sex workers are unanimously averse to experiencing any types of risk. But by utilizing edgework, it can be argued that these women may be attracted by the very risk this activity presents. The concept of edgework attempts to reframe the stigma and negativity that shapes dominant understandings of risk. In doing so, the article brings class and gender back into the equation and analyzes how these relationships related to individualization for the female sex workers to capitalize edgework in commercial sex industries. This provides a new and necessary lens to understand the diversity of sex worker’s experiences and motivations.

Specifically, this article draws upon two sets of data to apply Lyng’s concept of edgework. One set of data was taken from an in-depth interview of 195 sex workers from different niche markets in Dongguan. They discussed how sex work became edgework and various types of risk they encounter. A second set of interviews were conducted with 39 former FSWs who married and moved to Hong Kong about their struggles to leave the sex industry.

The responses about edgework offer insights into how FSWs take interest in and derive pleasure from engaging in risky activities that produce thrilling sexual desires and encourage distinctive types of creativity. These pleasures and satisfactions include exploring bodily pleasure and new aspects of their sexuality; work in a relatively unstructured environment wherein they can work dynamically and creatively to realize lucrative financial gain as well as adulation and emotional reward.

Another significant aspect of these accounts demonstrates the FSWs are cognizant of three particular areas of undesirable risk they are vigilant to avoid; legal entanglements (with police, custody centers), physical dangers (STDs), and personal entanglements (emotional risk ties with clients). Some FSWs have provided personal experiences where, as edgeworkers, they negotiated these risks with varying degrees of success. They have learned through experience how to live with AIDS, endure police beatings and time at the custody center, and avoid negative emotional entanglements with clients.

A final insight is that edgework helps explain an added difficulty for women to walk away from sex work. The accounts of 39 former FSWs who married Hong Kong businessmen confirm the struggles of leaving the old life and trying to start a new one. Through the lens of edgework, these women might be expected to use their dynamic energy and resourcefulness to adapt and easily make the transition. However, many of them had to contend with alienation and isolation in Hong Kong which led them to admit they longed for their old life. The thrill of illicit sexual pleasure may be a permanent part of their self-identity, a part that is too tempting for these “tempting girls” to resist. To go back to sex work, even if on a temporary or occasional basis, helps these edgeworkers reclaim their professional life, and glory in the thing they do better than anyone else.

Just as other types of edgeworkers must transition away from risky activities due to age or life circumstances, so these women must find a suitable transition that keeps them interested, appreciated, and confident. Future research should look at ways women can resist the call of thrilling edgework for more positive forms of engagement, perhaps related to education, counseling, or policymaking. These women are street smart, outgoing, resourceful, and have successfully navigated one of the riskiest jobs in the world. When they try to leave sex work, they need help so they can share their important life experience and insights for the next generation.