They called it a rescue. I called it losing my job.

I was working as a licensed spa therapist for three years. The centre had a trade licence on the wall. Clients booked through a reception desk. I sent money home every month.

One evening the police came in without showing us a warrant. They assumed the work was illegal because we were women in a spa after dark. We were lined up, spoken to as if we could not speak for ourselves, and taken as “victims.”

Nobody asked me if I wanted to be rescued. I said I wanted to go home. They put us in a shelter home for weeks. My phone was taken. My salary stopped. When I was finally allowed to leave, the centre had changed the locks and would not take any of us back — they were afraid of another raid.

I am an adult. I did not ask the State to save me from my own livelihood. If there is trafficking, investigate it. Do not empty a workplace and call the women evidence.

I am publishing without my name because my family still has to live in this city. The facts are mine.