When Migrant Men Enter the Intimacy Economy

This is not a fringe issue simply because it is rarely measured well. The International Labour Organization has long warned that migrant workers are overrepresented in sectors where abuse is common and oversight is weak. In its estimates on forced labor and forced sexual exploitation, migrants appear again and again as a high-risk group because they are easier to threaten with deportation, nonpayment or exposure. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime has also reported that men and boys remain underidentified in trafficking and sexual exploitation cases, in part because authorities and the public still see them mainly as workers or perpetrators, not as people at risk. That blind spot matters. It hides a part of migration that sits between informal labor, coercion and consent.

In Europe, researchers studying urban sex markets have found that foreign-born men are visible in escort services, app-based arrangements and nightlife economies, especially in cities with high housing costs and large tourist or expat populations. Similar patterns have been observed in parts of Latin America and the Middle East, where migrant men from poorer countries may sell companionship to older or wealthier clients from abroad or from the domestic elite. The forms vary widely. Some advertise openly online. Others are introduced through bars, gyms, clubs or private messaging networks. Some define the work as dating or companionship. Some reject the label of sex work entirely. Yet the economic logic is often plain: migration debt, irregular status, language barriers and blocked access to formal jobs narrow the options fast.

Research on migrant livelihoods helps explain why this happens. Across OECD countries, foreign-born workers are more likely than natives to be in insecure jobs, and recent arrivals often face a steep drop in income and status. For asylum seekers and undocumented migrants, the picture is worse. In many countries, asylum applicants must wait months before they can work legally. Others are banned from formal work altogether or trapped by employer-tied visas. Even among those with work rights, qualifications often go unrecognized. A man who was a teacher, driver or technician at home may arrive in a city where he cannot legally work, cannot rent without papers and cannot send money back to family unless he finds cash immediately.

That pressure can become extreme. The World Bank and the International Organization for Migration have both documented how remittances are not a side issue but a central duty in many migrant households. Families borrow money to finance journeys. Relatives expect support. A missed transfer can mean school fees unpaid or medicine delayed. Under those conditions, the line between a temporary compromise and long-term dependence can disappear quickly. A migrant man may start with one transactional relationship, then move into a steady pattern of paid intimacy because it pays more quickly than food delivery, day labor or under-the-table kitchen work.

Digital platforms have made the shift easier and less visible. Just as app-based work transformed transport and delivery, social and dating apps have lowered the barriers to entering informal sexual markets. A newcomer needs a phone, photos and enough language to negotiate. There may be no manager, no contract and no official workplace. That can look like freedom. It often means the opposite. Without legal protection, workers can be robbed, assaulted, blackmailed or simply not paid. Migrant men are especially exposed because many fear police contact more than abusive clients. If they are undocumented, reporting a crime may feel more dangerous than suffering it.

The public consequences reach beyond individual hardship. First, weak protections create a market where exploitation thrives. Europol and anti-trafficking groups have repeatedly warned that criminal networks adapt quickly to vulnerable populations, including migrants whose status makes them easy to control. Not every migrant man in paid intimacy is trafficked, and it is important not to erase agency. But the absence of safe reporting channels allows coercion to flourish in the shadows. Second, health systems often miss these men. Public health programs have historically focused on women in prostitution and on men who identify within established sexual minority networks. Migrant men working through private arrangements can fall outside both categories, even when they face high risks of violence, poor mental health and untreated sexual health problems.

There is also a wider social cost. Integration policy often assumes that men will enter visible labor markets and follow a clear path into housing, language classes and tax records. When migrant men survive through hidden intimacy work, they remain outside those systems. They may be earning money, yet becoming more isolated. Shame plays a major role. Masculine expectations in both origin and destination countries can make disclosure nearly impossible. A man may tell his family he works in a restaurant while living off sporadic sexual transactions. That secrecy can deepen depression and make exit harder.

The right response is not moral panic. It is labor realism. Governments that want fewer migrants pushed into sexual economies need to reduce the desperation that feeds them. Faster access to legal work for asylum seekers would help. So would fairer recognition of foreign qualifications and stronger enforcement against wage theft, which drives many migrants out of ordinary jobs. Cities can support low-threshold legal aid and anonymous reporting systems so undocumented people can report assault or extortion without automatic immigration consequences. Health outreach must also change. Clinics and NGOs should recognize that men in transactional sex, including heterosexual migrant men, exist and need tailored services.

Migration policy often fails because it speaks in the language of control while ignoring the economics of survival. If a city bars newcomers from lawful work, tolerates slumlords, allows recruiters to cheat them and leaves them afraid of the police, it should not be surprised when some earn money in the most private market available: their own bodies, charm and company. That is not just a story about sex. It is a story about exclusion.

The phrase “migrant men become gigolos” invites easy judgment. It suggests choice without context, style without danger. But strip away the stereotype and a different picture emerges. This is what labor exclusion can look like when it moves indoors and goes uncounted. Migration debates usually begin at the border. They should spend more time on what happens after arrival, when the promise of movement collides with the closed doors of work, housing and dignity. In that collision, some men do what they must to stay afloat. A serious society should ask not only what they are doing, but what left them so few alternatives.