By Satyaprakash Mehta
The public backlash against local RTI activist Disparsing Rani has been swift and unforgiving. A few words—interpreted as suggesting that sex work plays a role in preserving social stability—have ignited criticism across platforms. For many, the reaction is understandable. The idea that any group of people exists to “serve” a social function, particularly one tied to marriage or morality, feels reductive and uncomfortable. That discomfort is real, and it deserves acknowledgment.
Yet, stopping the conversation there risks missing something deeper. Public outrage often narrows its focus, isolating a single sentence and building a judgment around it while ignoring the broader context. What if the issue at hand is not merely what was said, but what it reveals? What if, however imperfectly expressed, the remarks were pointing towards an uncomfortable truth that society has long avoided confronting—its own contradictions?
In Meghalaya, as in many parts of the world, there exists a pattern of selective morality. Sex work is publicly condemned, often framed as immoral or unacceptable. Yet its persistence is not accidental. Demand exists, and it does not come solely from the margins. It often emerges from within the very fabric of what society considers respectable. Similarly, conversations around relationships are marked by inconsistency. Infidelity is condemned but widely practiced. Alternative structures such as polygamy are debated, tolerated, or criticized depending on context. Moral standards shift depending on gender, class, and convenience. What is judged harshly in one instance is quietly ignored in another.
It is within this landscape of contradiction that the controversy must be understood. The reaction, strong as it is, may reflect not just disagreement but discomfort—discomfort with having these inconsistencies brought into the open. When society is forced to confront what it would rather keep unspoken, the instinct is often to reject the messenger rather than engage with the message.
Long before this controversy, the Rot Association of Meghalaya had already started doing the difficult work of addressing these realities. Their efforts represent more than advocacy; they reflect a rare clarity in understanding how to navigate one of society’s most sensitive issues. In a space often dominated by moral judgment, RAM chose a different path. It shifted the conversation from morality to human rights, from condemnation to dignity, from silence to visibility.
There is a quiet brilliance in this approach. RAM recognized that moral debates often lead to polarization, with little room for resolution. Instead of attempting to force consensus on whether sex work is right or wrong, it focused on outcomes that are harder to dispute—safety, healthcare, legal protection, and the prevention of exploitation. By doing so, it reframed the issue entirely. The question was no longer whether society approves of sex work, but how it treats those who exist within it.
This shift is not only strategic; it is transformative. It compels society to confront reality rather than hide behind abstraction. It acknowledges complexity without simplifying it into moral binaries. It recognizes that individuals within this system are neither merely victims nor mere instruments, but human beings navigating difficult circumstances with agency and vulnerability.
The significance of RAM’s work extends beyond local recognition. The United Nations Human Rights Office has acknowledged the courage required to raise such stigmatized issues publicly, placing their efforts within a broader global human rights framework. Their inclusion as a permanent member of the Scotland-based Global Network of Sex Work Projects further underscores that this is not an isolated conversation, but part of an ongoing international dialogue about dignity, rights, and social responsibility.
Seen in this context, the current backlash against Disparsing Rani becomes part of a larger tension. It is no longer just about one statement or one individual, but about the difficulty society faces in confronting its own inconsistencies. His misstep, arguably, was not in raising the issue, but in how it was framed. By suggesting a functional role for sex work in preserving social structures, the focus shifted away from human dignity and towards social utility. That shift made it easier for critics to dismiss the argument entirely.
But dismissing the argument does not resolve the underlying problem. The contradictions remain. The stigma remains. The lived realities of sex workers remain. Ignoring these realities does not eliminate them; it only pushes them further into the shadows.
If this moment is to have any value, it must move beyond reaction. It must become an opportunity for reflection. This does not require agreement on every moral question. Societies are diverse, and disagreements are inevitable. What is not sustainable is inconsistency—the tendency to condemn publicly what is tolerated privately, to apply moral standards unevenly, and to deny dignity to those who exist within uncomfortable realities.
Human rights do not begin at the point of moral agreement. They begin at the point of existence. They begin with the recognition that every individual, regardless of circumstance, is entitled to dignity, safety, and respect. This is the principle that organizations like RAM have brought into focus. It is the principle that global human rights bodies continue to uphold. And it is the principle that must guide any meaningful conversation on this issue.
The controversy surrounding Disparsing Rani will eventually fade, as public attention inevitably shifts. What should not fade is the opportunity it presents—the opportunity to confront uncomfortable truths, to question long-held assumptions, and to bridge the gap between what society claims to believe and how it actually behaves.
In the end, the question is not whether every word Disparsing Rani spoke was right or wrong. The question is whether society is willing to look beyond the outrage and engage with what lies beneath it. Because in that space, however uneasy it may be, lies the possibility of a more honest and more humane conversation.
(The author is a research scholar residing in New Delhi, India)
