After my experience teaching yoga to commercial sex workers in Mumbai, I feel incapable of dignifying this country; it's people and culture, with the limited words available to me. How do I to tell the story of their lives? Lives that, because of oppression, poverty, over-population, illiteracy, disease, prejudice and hunger are reduced to begging and/or stealing and prostitution for survival. I guess first I must say how grateful I am to God for all of my blessings. I'm thankful for my family and friends and for the support and love I receive. I am consistently empowered because of the support that surrounds me.

I feel compelled to acknowledge my gratitude because I have witnessed the by-product of abandonment, rejection and survival in the group of women I met yesterday—the sex workers who work with YouthAIDS to implement a prevention campaign with brothel based sex workers and their clients. These women have, in spite of their circumstances, chosen to speak up, tell their truths, and work hard to break free from the social stigma that projects shame and hatred onto them. Instead, these beautiful women offer advice and hope and often a hug to other young women of similar paths with a heartfelt intensity that humbles my own efforts.

Mumbai has a population of over 18 million people—5.7 million live with HIV/AIDS. This statistic did not surprise me after I learned that 60 percent of the population lives in slums and 27 percent live below the poverty line. Mumbai also has the largest brothel-based sex industry in India, with over 5,000 sex workers, 45 percent of which have HIV.

YouthAIDS/Mumbai has implemented a synergistic prevention campaign with brothel based sex workers and their clients. Their primary goal is to reduce the incidence of HIV/AIDS in sex workers and their clients. The project focuses on engendering healthy sexual behavior through the empowerment of sex workers, increased risk perception among their clients, and the provision of affordable and accessible preventative products and services.

As sex workers are the most at risk for HIV/AIDS, YouthAIDS works within their system in order to most effectively reach the growing number of woman working as prostitutes in Mumbai. The best way to do this is to educate the more experienced and mature workers to communicate this information among their peers. These women belong to a women's collective called Sanghamitra (a YouthAIDS initiative) and together with another 198 members they work to help increase self-esteem and empowerment among the sex workers, reduce exploitation and stigma, organize community led advocacy and, as a group (as women alone have little, or more correctly, no power) fight for their rights. They also help to educate the younger sex workers about HIV/AIDS, STIs (sexually transmitted infections) and correct and consistent condom use. For their time, energy and access to sex workers, YouthAIDS offers them restitution, and makes available to them (as well as all sex workers and their clients), STI screening and testing, voluntary counseling and services, reproductive, child and general health treatments and ongoing medical monitoring.

During my time with the women, they shared a lot about their lives and their circumstances. I was prepared to hear a lot of shocking stories, but I was stunned when they told me that many village folk (when confronted by hunger, poverty, or superstition) often offer their female children to the Goddess Yelamma to become Devidasi (or hand maidens of God) in exchange for a blessing. When this happens, these girls can never marry because they are now married to the Goddess. Therefore, they are relegated to a life as human cargo for the Indian sex trade industry. When they get older, just after their first periods, they are often given to the temple priest where they then are sold as sexual sacrifice—an offering to the Gods. They are then often sold to a brothel. If they are underage, they become indentured servants (sex slaves) and, because they have no money, are alone, and don't speak the language, they have no choice but to turn to sex work to survive.

I was shocked to learn about the Devidasi, recognizing immediately that this practice relegated these children to a life sentence of prostitution. I found out that 5 of the 11 women in my class were Devidasi. Our conversation became impassioned as the women wanted us to understand that they were not angry with their parents, or their Goddess. They made us understand that because of these offerings, the bad luck within their families was changed and they were certain that their sacrifice was blessed because OTHER people had benefited from Yelamma’s grace. Not one woman in the room held any ill will or blame towards their family or the temple priests for the life they led.

They explained, very practically, that this is certainly not the life they would want for there own daughters, but they appreciated that through this work they were able to take care of themselves and feed, clothe, and educate their children—the most important issue for the women in that room.

The women were direct and showed no regret about their circumstances. They wished that there were more protection for the poor and vulnerable, especially women and children, but did not seem bitter about their lives. They told their stories frankly and without sentimentality.

Then something changed. When I started speaking about the adolescent prostitutes I teach in Los Angeles, the room got very quiet. The women were looking at me with confusion. Suddenly, they all started speaking quickly directly to the translator. I couldn't figure out what I said that created such upheaval. I looked to my left at Surya, a plump, sweet-faced woman who was watching me intently. Her eyes brimmed with tears. I asked her what was wrong. The interpreter explained that the women didn't know there were sex workers anywhere else in the world—especially in America. They thought it only happened in India—only to women like them.

For the first time since I arrived in that room, I could see the shame, sadness, and fear reflected back at me. I could see a lifetime of abuse and neglect. I could feel the pain within them knowing that there were millions of women, repressed, diseased, and alone all over this world.

Naturally, the women wanted to know more about my life in America, too. They asked me a lot of questions. Did I live in a house? Did it snow in America? Was there wheat?

They asked me why my skin was so white while theirs is so dark. I explained about pigmentation. They asked why my hair was so blond. I explained peroxide and Honey Blonde No. 48. They asked me what I grew in my fields. I didn't have the heart to explain that "my field" is a Whole Foods market in Santa Monica the size of a roller skating rink.

Then they asked about my husband and how many children I had . . .

This part did not go so well for me.

I told them that I am not married and have no children. There was an audible gasp in the room. I thought a few of the women might faint when I told them I am 40. I tried to explain that this is my choice, and that I'm OK with it, and maybe one day my boyfriend and I would . . . blah, blah, blah. To them, a woman without a man has no status under the eyes of the law. It was awful, but tolerable.

But a woman without a child? This means I would be spiritually bereft and never know true happiness! This was not OK. They began to counsel me immediately! The women started waving their hands around in the air, speaking over each other in various dialects, and rolling their eyes skyward. Suddenly Malika, the oldest in the group, stopped the group and fixed her gaze on me. She placed her hand over my belly and breathed quietly. After a few moments she announced, not to worry, that I would be pregnant after I left India and would have a child by this time next year. All the women were clearly relieved. She told me that it would be a boy. Everyone clapped for joy. She then told me another boy would follow and then a girl.

I ask her who she thought would be taking care of all these kids? She was not amused. She told me drink warm milk, tumeric, and honey—and to stop using condoms immediately! I told her I would stop using condoms, if she and the other ladies in the room promised me they wouldn’t.