HETAUDA, Nepal — When the United States eliminated the Agency for International Development, the conversation largely focused on the millions of people who once depended on that aid. But what about the 280,000 workers worldwide who lost their jobs when the agency was shut down? An Associated Press reporter set out to find the answer — and what she discovered in Nepal was both unexpected and deeply troubling.
U.S. President Donald Trump dissolved USAID after calling it a waste of money. In response to questions from the AP, the U.S. State Department said the Trump administration had revitalized its assistance programs with a new focus on efficiency, effectiveness, and partnership. The department also noted that the United States contributes more to health and humanitarian assistance than any other nation on earth.
AP reporter Kristen Gelineau had been tracking the fallout from the U.S. foreign aid cuts when a chance remark from an HIV researcher in Nepal stopped her in her tracks. The researcher mentioned, almost in passing, that the leader of an HIV prevention nonprofit had told him something alarming: many of the organization’s former workers — people who had once helped marginalized communities including sex workers — had themselves been pushed into sex work to make ends meet.
Gelineau quickly discovered this was not an isolated situation. LGBTQ+ aid workers across Nepal were facing the same desperate circumstances. Health officials began raising alarms that the trend could drive up HIV infection rates in the country.
American USAID employees have received most of the media attention surrounding job losses, even though they represent less than 10% of those left unemployed by the agency’s closure. The vast majority of displaced workers live in other countries — often in conflict zones or deeply impoverished regions where alternative employment is nearly impossible to find.
Earning the trust of these workers took months. Many are survivors of trauma, and gaining access required navigating multiple layers of contacts within Nepal’s LGBTQ+ community. Gelineau shared examples of her past reporting to demonstrate a track record of ethical coverage of vulnerable populations. Initial contact was made by text message before progressing to face-to-face interviews.
Gelineau traveled to both Kathmandu and a smaller city called Hetauda, accompanied by visual journalist Bram Janssen and translator Tulsi Rauniyar. Hetauda had a notable concentration of former aid workers now doing sex work who were willing to speak on the record. Because the majority of these individuals are survivors of sexual violence, every interview began with a careful conversation about consent — including reassurances that participants could pause, stop, or skip any question at any time.
The reporting team spent several nights alongside the women as they worked near a highway, in order to truly understand the conditions and dangers they face. What Gelineau witnessed was deeply unsettling. The highway was dark and chaotic. The locations where women met with clients offered no protection whatsoever — isolated spots in nearby jungle, an adjacent industrial zone, or clients’ homes. Groups of men, many visibly intoxicated, would crowd around a worker and aggressively negotiate before leading her away to a remote location. Nearly every woman had experienced some form of assault.
Police occasionally appeared on the scene, but rather than providing safety, their presence made the women feel even more at risk — many reported being assaulted by officers as well.
Despite all of that danger, the women typically earn just $2 to $3 per client. But as worker after worker told the reporter, they see no alternative. In Nepal, legal employment for openly transgender people is virtually nonexistent. For them, the choice is stark: sex work, or starvation.
