Krik? Krak!

The emotional drama of “Night Women” comes from the tension between the narrator’s work life and her responsibilities as a mother. The story suggests that survival sex work (defined as sex work compelled by necessity, rather than choice) harms all parties involved. Although the narrator has mentally justified her occupation— “at least I have the days to myself” (88)—the story unequivocally presents sex work as an obstacle for her to overcome and a threat against her son. In the story’s opening paragraph, the narrator admits that “the night is the time I dread most in my life” (83) because she is a sex worker. It is clear that the narrator engages in sex work in order to survive: “[I]f I am to live, I must depend on it” (83). It is also clear that the narrator is desperate to protect her son from the reality of her work, as large sections of the story describe the tests she conducts in order to determine whether he’s asleep, and the lies she tells him when he wakes. In her desperation to protect her son, the narrator creates a new reality: “I tell him that we are expecting a sweet angel and where angels tread the hosts must be as beautiful as floating hibiscus” (86). These passages suggest that, in addition to the emotional distress of survival sex work, the narrator also struggles with the responsibility of protecting her son’s mental and emotional health, pointing to The Resilience of Women Across the Haitian Diaspora.

However, the subtle sexualization of the narrator’s son throughout the story suggests that she has not been able to fully protect him from it. Throughout the story, the use of sexualized language and references to the boy’s lips and tongue hint at his own sexual potential, and the impact of living in close proximity to sex work. In the first introduction to her son, the narrator describes how “he stretches from a little boy into the broom-size of a man” (83) suggesting that he may have already entered puberty. Although the narrator hopes that sleep will protect him from her sex work, the story suggests that that boundary is permeable: As he sleeps, “he squirms and groans as though he’s already discovered that there is pleasure in touching himself” (84). The fabric the narrator has hung to separate their spaces cannot shield him from the sexualized atmosphere—a reality of their life and survival. Repeated references to the boy’s lips (85, 86, 88) and tongue (twice on 86) also emphasize to this sexualized atmosphere. Although the boy is not yet old enough to patronize sex workers, the story suggests that his mother’s survival sex work has already begun to negatively influence his life.