Medhanit sits quietly, her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes, deep with untold pain, shift to the disfigured fingers of her right hand. It is almost non-functional now, a reminder of the tragedy that shaped her childhood and sex work.

I was only two years old when it happened.

Her voice steady despite the weight of the past.

My mother was cooking, and I fell into a pot of boiling stew. My hands, especially my right hand were burned beyond healing.

Born in Bichena, Gojjam, Medhanit lost her parents at a young age- too young to even recall when her mother passed away. Her father had been bedridden for years before he succumbed to illness. At the time, Medhanit was away, receiving medical attention in Addis Ababa. She never got the chance to say goodbye.

With no parents to return to, she stayed with her uncle, but life there was far from easy. His wife saw her not as a child in need of care, but as a burden. The weight of discrimination was heavy, her deformed hand only made things worse.

I went to night school, but the bullying was unbearable. I was just a child, yet I faced things no child should.

At barely 13, she left her uncle’s house and returned to her family’s home, where her older sister lived. But survival was a constant battle. Food was scarce, and the little they harvested was never enough. To support herself, Medhanit started selling sugarcane on the streets. It meant long, dangerous treks to get the sugarcane. Trips filled with the ever-present threat of harassment.

I was still a child, but there was no one to protect me.

When things fell apart in Bichena, she traveled to Arsi Negele to live with her brother. There, she met a boy. They flirted, they laughed, young love in its simplest form. But then, at just 15, Medhanit’s life took another turn.

I started feeling sick, morning nausea, no menstrual cycle - I was pregnant.

She told her boyfriend. He denied it.

Alone and scared, she left her brother’s house and returned to her oldest sister in Bichena to give birth. But providing for a child was impossible. With no stable income, she made the painful decision to leave her baby with her sister and return to Addis in search of work.

Years passed in struggle. She worked tirelessly, but the world was unkind. When COVID-19 hit, everything spiraled downward. She sought jobs, desperate for a stable income. She was turned down five times.

They always stared at my hand. They didn’t care about my skills, only my disability.

Tears well in her eyes - voice thick with emotion. She looks away.

I cried. I gave up. It was too much.

Survival demanded sacrifice. Offers came - offer that no woman should have to consider. Men promised money, but at a price. A price she ultimately paid.

I became a sex worker because I had no choice. My daughter needed food, clothes, school. I needed to survive.

Even in the darkest corners of survival, she faced rejection. Some clients recoiled at her hand, insulted her, and left without paying. The humiliation cut deep, but hunger was deeper. Then came sickness...

I thought I was going to die, but my neighbors saved me.

Health complications haunted her, unsafe abortions, infections, but she had learned a hard lesson.

Now, her daughter is 14, living with her brother, going to school. Medhanit provides for her, sends money, buys her clothes.

To her fellow sex workers, she has one message:

You will be tested in life, in ways big and small. But don’t give up. No matter how hard it gets, there is a future...

Today, Medhanit is a Peer Educator at Nikat Charitable Association...

“I survived,” she says. “And so can you.”