Legal but Unprotected: The Paradox of Sex Work in Mozambique

By Benedicta Oyedayo Oyewole

In Mozambique, sex work exists in a legal grey zone, decriminalised, yet persistently policed under vague notions of public decency. While the law does not explicitly criminalise sex work, provisions like Article 225 of the Penal Code are often used to target sex workers, especially those whose gender expression or sexual orientation fall outside societal norms. This legal ambiguity, combined with pervasive stigma, restricts sex workers’ access to basic rights, healthcare, and safety.

HIV prevalence remains alarmingly high among sex workers, yet the gap between risk and access to prevention tools, particularly Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis (PrEP), is still wide. Many sex workers are either unaware of PrEP or face systemic and social barriers to accessing it. For a population so central to the HIV response, sex workers are often excluded from tailored, rights-based services designed with their specific realities in mind.

Studies show a poor translation of HIV awareness into practice, with highly irregular condom use, limited HIV testing, and low treatment uptake. In cities like Maputo and Manica, only half of HIV-positive sex workers are on antiretroviral treatment (ART), while in regions like Nampula, nearly 73% have never accessed ART. The 2017 IBBS also revealed that two-thirds of sex workers had not consulted a healthcare professional in the past six months, and among those who did, one in ten faced difficulties receiving care. These gaps highlight a clear need for comprehensive capacity strengthening by and for sex workers on HIV prevention tools like PrEP, supported by community-driven approaches that build trust, knowledge, and agency.

In 2024, Associação Moçambicana para o Desenvolvimento da Família (AMODEFA), IPPF’s Member Association in Mozambique, launched a project titled Phamberi na Kudzirira (Advance Prevention), supported by the Japan Trust Fund. This targeted initiative aims to strengthen the capacity of health workers to deliver inclusive, high-quality PrEP services. The project contributes to reducing HIV transmission by improving the uptake and effective use of oral PrEP (and other emerging prevention methods, where available), intending to enroll 800 sex workers on PrEP.

In a year's reflection in Mozambique on the project, now certified peer educators and empowered sex workers in their diverse communities shared how the project had transformed their lives. Linda*, a peer educator from northern Mozambique, recounted how the project built her confidence to speak openly about sexual health. “Before this, I felt ashamed about my work and afraid of how people saw me,” she said. “But now, I can educate others about PrEP and HIV prevention without fear. I even help others get referred to health centers.” She beamed with pride as she described how she now understood the difference between PrEP and ARVs and was empowered to protect her health. “I know I can have sex without fear. I know my rights and my options,” she added.

Another beneficiary, Marta*, echoed Linda’s sentiments. “This project taught me to believe that being a sex worker does not mean I should hide. I now speak about who I am without shame. It gave me words, tools, and pride.”

Their stories reflect individual transformations and a broader shift in community dynamics, where shame is slowly replaced with solidarity, fear with knowledge, and invisibility with voice.

Yet, gaps remain, despite the steady efforts of peer educators and community outreach; critical gaps remain in the protection, well-being, and inclusion of sex workers in Mozambique. During the engagement, the sex workers from different communities in Mozambique gave voice to the harsh realities they navigate daily, which remain largely unaddressed by mainstream health, legal, and social systems.

One of the most alarming issues raised was violence, particularly the normalized violence perpetrated by law enforcement. Sex workers shared painful testimonies of being beaten, extorted, and sexually assaulted by police officers, who are supposed to protect them. “When they see us, they don't see a human being,” Grace* said. “They beat us and then ask for money to let us go.”

The impunity with which this violence occurs reveals a broken justice system. Many beneficiaries shared stories of abuse and violence, particularly from police officers and clients, that go unreported, not due to apathy, but because justice feels out of reach. “It takes too long to come,” explained Maria*, a peer educator who also does sex work. “Sometimes it never comes at all. We report and they mock us. Or worse, they ask for money.”

Despite sex work being legal in Mozambique, sex workers are acutely aware that the legal system remains ineffective, which perpetuates exploitation and abuse. Joana shared, “We make an agreement with the client, but after the service is done, they refuse to pay the agreed amount. They say, ‘What can you do? The police won’t help you.’ And sadly, they are right.” Elsa*, another sex worker, emphasized the power imbalance that allows clients to take advantage of their vulnerability. “We know sex work is legal, but the system is corrupt. There’s no real justice when things go wrong. The police, the courts, they just don’t care, and that makes it easy for clients to exploit us.”

The sense of powerlessness felt by these workers is compounded by the realization that their efforts to seek justice often lead nowhere. Maria* added, “It doesn’t matter that sex work is legal. We can’t trust the system to protect us. The clients know this, and they use it to their advantage. They know we can’t do anything when they take advantage of us.”

These vulnerabilities are compounded by the attitudes of healthcare workers. Even though awareness of prevention tools like PrEP and PEP has grown largely due to peer-led education, participants spoke of routine discrimination at public health centers. “When I go to the hospital, they shout at me and tell everyone I sell my body,” one sex worker shared. As a result, many avoid clinics altogether, seeking care only when severely ill or through trusted mobile outreach.

Social stigma further reinforces isolation. Several participants recounted being disowned by family members or forced out of their homes. The rejection is often rooted in cultural and religious beliefs that vilify sex work. “My mother cried when she found out. She said I had brought shame to the family,” one woman said quietly. Others spoke of being denied housing or excluded from community events. This lack of communal acceptance leaves many without social support and vulnerable to depression, exploitation, and homelessness.

The challenges sex workers face in Mozambique are deeply rooted in a flawed justice system, where even though sex work is legal, exploitation, stigma, and abuse persist unchecked. Many sex workers feel powerless in the face of corruption and institutional neglect, as they are unable to seek justice for exploitation or violence. However, the project led by AMODEFA marks a significant step toward change. It provides an opportunity for sex workers to begin reclaiming their rights, gaining access to resources, and finding solidarity among themselves. This initiative is not just about offering services; it’s about empowering sex workers to speak up, challenge stigma, and demand accountability.

While community-led programs have made significant strides, particularly in building trust and disseminating health information, they cannot substitute for structural change. There is an urgent need for the country government, NGOs, and sex worker-led and allied organizations to continue to push for comprehensive legal protection, ensuring that sex workers are shielded from violence and exploitation. Promoting their rights, enhancing societal understanding, and creating supportive structures, this project signals the beginning of a new dawn for sex workers in Mozambique, one that champions justice, dignity, and equality.

As Faith* put it: “We are people, women, daughters, mothers, friends, sisters. We are not the enemy. We just want to be safe, work, live, and be respected.”

NB: All names marked with an asterisk (*) are pseudonyms used to protect the identity and safety of the sex workers who participated in this article.