But baby, just think of what we could do..

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brothels, couples, discrimination, feminism, friends and family, Love, money, parenting, personal stories, Relationships, sex industry, Sex Work, single mothers, south australia, stigma

Another love story. Complete with love, lies, sex, summer holidays and a little bit of communication. When I met Luke I was happily hooking in a brothel 2 shifts a week, studying part-time, working a ‘straight’  job and parenting but I still found time to do a little partying. I was single, my kids spent a couple of nights a week with their father and I was still young so every now and then I’d go out on the town with my besti’s and on some of these occasions I got lucky. Or I should say, sometimes I went home with someone and they got lucky!

By this point in life I had made a decision to keep my sex work job a secret. I had children to think of, I had an ex partner, the father of my kids, who I didn’t want to give ammunition, I had study, a straight job and a future. I was not ashamed of my sex work, it was just such a non issue that I couldn’t be bothered dealing with the stigma if I didn’t have to, and I wanted to protect my children from it. It was sex work that had allowed me study part-time, given me the freedom  to be a single mum rather than stay in an unhappy relationship, allowed me pick and choose straight jobs, only accepting those that were flexible and willing to work around my family and my study. It  was sex work that meant I could buy the expensive texts books I needed for Uni, and take my kids to overpriced music lessons and still left me with enough money to have a big night out every now and then. I was desperately scared of having to give all that up and I thought that keeping it a secret would prevent that from happening.

And it worked. I didn’t tell Luke the night I met him at the party. Actually we had met quite a few times over the years, but he had never really left an impression on me before. But that night he did and we spent the night together and then later in the week another night and then an afternoon. I didn’t want to tell him my secret because then it’s not a secret. What if we stopped  seeing each other after a short time and then he told everyone else. I decided it was none of his business and that if we were still seeing each other after 3 months I would tell him.

3 months came and went and Luke and I were still seeing each other. He spent time with me and the kids and it was getting fairly serious. I had dropped my shifts in the brothel back to only one per week, and I didn’t want to tell him. I knew by now that he would hate it. I knew that he would make me stop. I knew he would be upset I had kept it from him. And I knew it didn’t have to be that way. We were not living together so I still had my own expenses, and my brothel shift just moulded seamlessly into my busy and respectable life, I wasn’t technically lying…… I just said I was going to work.

I didn’t want to give up what I viewed as my independence and so I kept sex working and I kept it a secret. For nearly two years.

Possibly not the right thing to do, but I am certainly not alone. Half the people I worked with at the time were hiding it from their partners as well. It seems easy to justify when you know it’s just work. And as time went on, it just seemed more and more impossible to tell him. I wanted him to know, sometimes I felt like he just didn’t want to know. I mean, why didn’t he ask more questions, Even if he didn’t notice the extra money I was sure I was dropping hints. But no, I worked once a week in a brothel for more than 18 months and it seems my partner had no idea.

And then one day, in the middle of a big blow up argument, about something unrelated and I can’t even remember what now, I yelled the words at him. “I DON’T CARE, I’VE BEEN A PROSTITUTE THE WHOLE TIME YOU’VE KNOWN ME”

I meant it as a cutting end to our argument, to our relationship, to my lies, and possibly to my job. I had thought about what would happen if he found out and I knew he’d be pretty pissed! I wouldn’t have been surprised if he put a hole in a nearby wall. But I screamed it at him and he just looked at me blankly and said “you are not!”

And so I told him everything. His calmness floored me, so my manner changed. I lost my anger and I felt guilt and sadness for hurting him. I explained myself, I consoled him, I explained myself some more, I apologised and, of course, I did the inevitable. I promised to stop working. We  talked and to my surprise  he was willing to forgive me, and I guess that made him even more appealing to me.

I quit my job, took up extra hours in my straight job, and moved in with him to save money. I felt like I gave up some of my independence  but I was ok about that. I kept it up for around 12 months but after a year of no sex work, and less flexibility in my other job, I was suffering financially. So was my partner, he had acquired an instant family to help support and we were all feeling the pinch. I had been faithful to my pledge to not do sex work, but we were struggling. It was on my mind, and I began making jokes about it. The bills would come in and he would be complaining so Id say, “one night in a brothel, I could clear them for us”, he would ignore me or give me an annoyed look. But neither of us could deny that money was tight and something had to give. I kept making my jokes, but I started throwing in extra sweeteners “we could even go on a holiday!”

“But honey, just think of what we could do!”

He still didn’t agree, but he seemed more open to the idea the more I kept bringing it up. One day he snapped at me “Oh for gods sake, you want to go back to work, just do it then”. I nearly squealed with excitement, but thought that might be an unhelpful reaction. So we sat and had a very open and long conversation about it. I asked him what his main concerns were. He said he trusts me, he knows it’s just work. I reminded him that he knows it wont effect our relationship, because I had already been doing it in the past and he didn’t even know. Eventually he confessed one of his biggest fears about me being a sex worker, was that I might fuck one of his friends or colleagues as a client, or I might be recognised and outed in public.

Jealousy is an awful emotion, and one that is difficult to control. Everyone experiences it differently and for different reasons. His fear seemed silly to me, but I was glad he was able to figure it out and communicate it to me. It meant that we could find a way for me to do sex work that he could live with. We decided that I would go away to work outside Adelaide, where it was unlikely I would see anyone either of us knew and where I could remain anonymous. So for the next 12 months I went away once a month to rural and regional South Australia for working weekends with friends.

And because I felt privileged to be able to go back to work with my partners blessing I used my money very wisely. I knew we were taking a risk in our relationship and I wanted to make it worth it. In 12 months, I managed to pay off our credit card debt and saved enough money to take us on that holiday I had suggested.

I used to joke that I was bribing my partner to “let me” work by paying for us to go to the Greek Islands, but it wasn’t actually like that. I did have to convince him to be ok with me going back to sex work, but we were a partnership, and I felt equal in that partnership, we had developed an arrangement that worked well for us, and sex work had become a part of that arrangement.

And it is hard to argue while holidaying in the beautiful Mediterranean summer!

sex work 101

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brothels, clients, consent, disability, discrimination, friends and family, laws, Love, money, nursing, parenting, personal stories, rants, Relationships, safe sex, sex industry, Sex Work, sexuality, single mothers, south australia, stigma, the boss

Your beginners course in understanding my work. Written in the interests of answering the common questions and misconceptions and saving sex workers from having to deliver a sex work 101 class to every person they disclose to.

1. I have good sexual health. I know this because I get tested. I get tested twice a year and more if there have been any risks. Some workers go more often. I use condoms for oral and full sex, i do visual checks on my clients for STI’s, I use lots of lube and have access to a variety of sizes in condoms, I know my condoms are in date and stored properly, I put it on, I take it off, i regularly check the condom during sex to make sure it is in tact and in place and for all of these reasons, I rarely have a condom break or slip. I also use condoms on toys and on  fingers if they are to be inserted anywhere. Sex workers in this country are known to have better sexual health than the general public. We are professional about our sexual health.

2. Being raped or assaulted is not a part of my job. I have never been raped or hit during my sex wok job. When it happens to a sex worker it must be taken seriously and dealt with appropriately, not written off an inevitable part of the industry.

3. My clients come from all walks of life. There is no typical client. As long as they are clean and respectful, then I am happy to provide them a service. If they are not clean, I don’t mind waiting while they take a shower.

4. There is no typical sex worker, I know sex workers of all ages, I have a friend in her late 60’s and I know of even older. Fat or thin, tall or short, everyone can make money in the sex industry.

5. The sex I have at work is work. For me it is not comparable to the sex I have for pleasure or with a partner. That doesn’t mean I never enjoy it. Compare it to working in a childcare centre looking after other people’s kids all day, i might enjoy it and I might like those kids but it is very different to how feel when i care for my own child. It is just a service, an intimate service yes, but there are many jobs where people provide intimate services for money, such as childcare.

6. I’ve been known to partake in a recreational drug here and there but I do not have a drug habit to support, and I do not need to be wasted to work. Drug use is a characteristic of our industry, in that it’s slightly more accepted in some (not all – many try to distance themselves) workplaces. If drug use itself is higher in the sex industry than in other industries (say for example the nursing sector) then I offer the following explanations: Firstly,obviously the money in sex work is better. If you have a drug addiction to support or if your vice of choice is expensive, sex work is an attractive financial option. This is also true for big gamblers, shoppers, travellers, spenders, and those in debt. Secondly the flexibility of sex work makes it an attractive work option for those who don’t fit neatly into the mon to fri 9- 5, stay in your box and conform-or-else,  type jobs. What I mean is, as a sex worker you can work for yourself, you can work for boss, you can work a few hours or you can work a few days solid, you can work regularly or on and off, you can call in sick all the time and still have a job. This means that people who need some extra money to score today, and the people who can’t get stable work because their life is not stable, or those people who can’t work long shifts because they need to self medicate, or people who get sacked from ‘straight’ workplaces because they were found out for using their sick leave to detox, still have a job option. I’m not using this post to weigh in on the ‘drugs are bad mmmkay’ debate, but I will say, people who use drugs either recreationally or habitually, can and are, and should be encouraged to be productive members of our communities, and it is up to everyone to make that possible. The sex industry has managed to make that possible and I think that is why drug use is more visible in our industry.

7. I personally do not have a mental health diagnosis. I think that makes me the opposite of normal these days. My point is, you don’t have to be damaged or deluded to exchange sex for money. Getting paid for sex also doesn’t cause Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, depression or any other label. What can cause a whole array of mental health problems is ongoing stigma and discrimination, harassment, criminalisation and all its associated issues, unsafe workplaces, isolation, and any other number of life experiences and chemical reactions. There is nothing inherently damaging either physically, emotionally or mentally about getting paid for sex, though there are often factors associated with sex work that can cloud our experiences. And many sex workers do live with a mental illness and I doubt it is over represented in our industry. But like drugs, i think it is more accepted in our industry and the flexibility means that people with health considerations can find suitable work in the flexible sex industry, allowing them to manage their health and stay gainfully employed. Again, I think rather than giving our industry a hard time, other industries should be taking note. Stop with the exit strategies for sex workers,  how about “entering strategies” rolled out to the employers whose work conditions are so rigid ensuring they are not accessible to people with caring responsibilities, with health considerations and disabilities, or to people who use drugs, older people, people with less English skills, or students, people with gaps in their resume’s and people with criminal records, or to people who need extra help or people who just want some control of their own working lives. These are the benefits of the sex industry, not the negatives.

8. There are no Madame’s and Pimps. OK, well there are female brothel owners and we do call them Madame’s, but they are really just an employer. They don’t generally have any other special role in our lives, just like any employer and employee relationship.  And there are boyfriends/partners, drivers, drug dealers and runners, security and bosses. And maybe in other countries they are called pimps, but not in Australia. There people in abusive relationships who are being pressured to work when they don’t want to on in ways they don’t want to. But that is domestic violence, not pimping. The reality in Adelaide is that there are lots of brothels and lots of bosses, some are good and some are bad but there is even more sex workers who work for themselves or in small collectives who have total control.

9. Yes the money is good, but not ridiculous. It used to be much better but an increase in the industry and a decrease in disposable income has meant it is not the gold mine i once felt like (or maybe I’m jut getting older 😉 ). Adelaide sex workers are among the cheapest sex workers in Australia. A mixture of different services offered by different workers, no labour rights or baseline wages in force, competitive market and vastly varying overheads make it difficult to negotiate pay rises across the industry or individually. When I first started sex work 20 years ago the average rate for an hour ‘fully inclusive’ session in a Adelaide brothel was $110 – 160 and about 5 years ago we had our first big price hike and now the going rate is about $160 – $240 for an hour. The sex worker generally gets about 50 – 60%. Keep in mind that most brothels also offer half hour or shorter services (I once worked in a brothel where I got paid $25 fr a quick fuck! needless to say I didn’t stay there long)and will provide discounts for longer bookings, some take shift fees or other cuts, and many sex workers offer ‘extras’ for extra cost or provide a different service for a different cost, private workers set their own prices based on overheads, services, commercial factors and their style of doing business. Give or take a few tips and noshows and there is no way I could give you any kind of average earning.  I can tell you that if I work for an 8 hour shift in a brothel I would expect to earn between $200 and $500 but depending on the business, the time of day/year, the number of workers on shift, the price of service and cut I got, and a massive range of other factors, including luck, it would not be unusual for a sex worker in Adelaide to leave an 8 hour shift with anywhere between zero and thousands.

10. I currently do pay tax on my sex work income. I have to if I want to participate in the world of house and car loans, or any other significant financial transactions. I haven’t always paid tax on my sex work income because I feel it is unfair to take my tax money but afford me no rights in return. Infact the opposite, I pay tax on my income but my assets can be confiscated as ‘proceeds of crime’, my cash could have me charged with ‘illegal possession’, my business could be closed down at any point and my livelihood gone, without compensation, my health and home and professional insurance is not valid due to my illegal activity. But regardless of any of that, if I want to spend my money, I have to declare it. And many other sex workers and sex industry businesses are in the same boat. The glaring contradiction comes from the fact that a) The Australian Tax Office doesn’t care how you make your money as long as you pay tax on it, in one of their staffers words ‘even a hit man can declare their income and claim their expenses’ and b) Australia’s tax system is a national system and our sex work laws are state based and every other state has some form of legal sex work. Now ofcourse, being a cash based industry, I’m sure not every cent is declared, and being very good at evading authority and remaining undetected, I’m sure not all brothels are paying tax, and why should they until their business’s are deemed legitimate. But the truth is that three things in life are inevitable – your born, you pay taxes and you die.

My Two Faces

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brothels, discrimination, friends and family, money, parenting, personal stories, sex industry, Sex Work, single mothers

I choose sex work for many reasons. Obviously making a decent income is one major factor, as is the flexibility. I don’t make an obscene amount of cash, I’m not the most successful or motivated hooker in town, but its a decent income. Comparable to what Id make doing the job I’m qualified to do but with less stress. And in hours that suit me.

The flexibility is definitely my favourite thing about my job. It has always worked around my social engagements, my studies, my parenting, my travelling, my other jobs, my relationships, my passions. Whatever. It’s always been there for me while I run around doing my thing.  I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a reliable source of income because it is so up and down, but I’ve always felt secure that I wont starve and I can put a roof over my head (even if it’s just the roof of the brothel im working at).

But Its more than just that..

I ALSO LOVE THE DRESS UPS!

When I broke up with the father of my children, I hadn’t done sex work for a number of years. I had myself a straight job and a family. But once we separated, still in my mid twenties, I knew what I wanted to do. After starting sex work again, I decided I had what it took to further my education. What it takes, as a single mum, to go to uni is, passion, motivation and a flexible well-paying job that lets you study between bookings, and having a mouthy whore attitude helps to insist the system works for you.

So back to you Uni I went, if you were around those parts in my day you might remember me because I took the opportunities  that university affords and indulged in self-expression. I had bright pink long dreadlocks.

And I studied hard and went home and did my best at playing perfect mum, and on Sundays I worked at the brothel.  Every Sunday the kids went to their dads. Every Sunday I worked from 10am until midnight.

Nobody knew what I did on Sundays. It really was my secret back then. No one at uni, none of my family, none of my friends. I’d had enough trouble telling people in the past and I just wanted to avoid it. I knew what I wanted to do, and I was just going to do it, my way, so I did.

For 2 years I Showed up to work every Sunday morning with my crazy hair, daggy jeans, sneakers and my bag of tricks. It was fun. Id enjoy watching myself in the mirror while I began my transformation. The other workers would watch and sometimes we’d laugh about it. I covered my dreadlocks with a shoulder length dark wig with a sharp fringe, id do my make up to match, darker around my eyes, red lips. I swapped my groovy glasses for bright green contact lenses and paint my nails pretty. Under my daggy clothes I’m scrubbed, moisturised and If I got around to it, waxed. Id take off my comfortable undies and put my sexy (but often cheap and tacky) lacy red matching bra and knickers, slinky one piece black nightclub dress (for easy slip off and on), stay up stockings and amazing heels. I was a different person. I loved it. I was so different under those brothel lights that you wouldn’t recognise me as the pink haired mother at uni. It was nice having a reason to be super sexy. Just as it was nice having an excuse to indulge in pink hair.

My favourite thing about my transformation was when new workers would start a shift in the middle of my long shift.   They would only see me as the dark-haired hooker Id transformed myself into. We’d work and chat for hours. And when the clock struck midnight, the spell would be broken. Id pull of my wig and shake out my long pink dreads and grin at them. I loved the look of shock and the surprise they would express by the time my transformation was complete, all showered clean of make up, back to my cotton undies and jeans.

 

How to spot a hooker

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clients, discrimination, feminism, friends and family, Love, parenting, personal stories, rants, Relationships, sex industry, Sex Work, single mothers, south australia, stigma, whore shame

Have you ever met a sex worker? Shall we do the math?  Lets say there is 1000 sex workers in South Australia working in any one year and 85% of them are female (an estimate shared by the SA Police, the local sex workers health organisation SIN and quoted in the media). That would mean 850 women have done sex work in any one year in SA. In June 2010 South Australia had 1.09 million people of working age between 15 and 64 years old (from the Australian Bureau of statistics) and roughly half of them (545 000) were women. Using these statistics 1 in 640 working aged South Australian Women have done sex work this year alone.

Now lets say their average length of time in the industry is 10 years (It was more like 5 years in research done with Australian sex workers in 1991 by Roberta Perkins some of which is published here and in a book called Working Girls) and your working life lasts 50 years (based on the ABS age range used above) I could take a leap and say that over a 10 year period all the current sex workers have left and a new 850 have entered (overall, on average, generally, based on these estimates). My sketchy brain (and dodgy calculator) work that out to mean that 1 in 65 South Australian women will do sex work at one point in their life.

Does this math add up? That seems like a lot! And I am using conservative figures. Any way you look at it, it’s a good proportion. Someone pull my math apart, because I just sent my brain into a gooey mess.

And while we wait for the judges to get back to us, I’ll tell you why I wouldn’t actually be surprised if my guess was close to accurate.

You may think you have never met a hooker (except the one you paid maybe) but a lot of my friends, family, lovers and even partners have thought they never met a hooker either. You see, most of us sex workers don’t wear a sign on our head, we don’t have a red light on our house and we don’t advertise our identifying details on a billboard.

Many of us hide our work from some, or most, or all the people we know and meet or maybe we just hide it just from you!

Many of us are only sex workers when we are at work. The rest of the time we are people’s friends and family members and community members. Maybe yours.

Some of us may want to suss you out before we make ourselves vulnerable by sharing our secret. It’s not that we are ashamed, but maybe we have reasons to hide from the discrimination. Maybe we are testing your values and your trustworthiness first to make sure our secret life is safe with you.

Some of us have detailed cover stories so when strangers ask about our work we easily talk about our job in telephone sales, converting stories about our clients into a story about an interesting call we took at work. Maybe we can’t be bothered doing a sexwork 101 class right now, or maybe we’re saving you the embarrassment that we suspect our disclosure would elicit.

Some sex workers will never tell a soul, taking their secrets to the grave. The only people knowing are other sex workers and their clients. They have decided that the risk is not worth it. Perhaps they are a student who is scared about jeopardising their future career, a single mum who is only working for a few years to set herself up. For many of us, sex work is just a job that is meeting our needs. Sometimes its only a temporary plan and we decide that coming out and fighting the stigma for the sake of a short term job is just not worth it.

I feel privileged to receive emails from people sharing their own experiences of sex work with me, stories that they have never told anyone else. If you have never met a sex worker, you are missing out.

I had a partner for three years and I never told him that I was a part-time sex worker. I guess the thought of me in that line of work never occurred to him, because he never suspected. I didn’t find it difficult, I just went to work as per normal, did my job and came home. He even met other sex workers who I worked with, but he presumed they were co workers from my “straight” job. It wasn’t a big deal to me, and I didn’t want to make it a big deal to us so I kept it to myself.

If a client complains about the lack of sexual attention they receive from their wives or girlfriends I will often make the joke “maybe she is just too tired from working at the brothel all day”. Everytime he will laugh heartily assuring me that for whatever reason this is a ridiculous suggestion. And I giggle as I respond with “yup, that’s what my partner thinks about me too”. Then I sit back and watch them consider my words.

Have you ever met a hooker? Maybe you’re married to one, or maybe your mum is one. Maybe one of the people in your class is a hooker, or maybe your best friend has done sex work. Maybe the person on the bus, or at the party, or your mates partner or family member or the person that helps out at the canteen or maybe even your child has done sex work. If my maths is right, its likely nearly everyone has met a sex worker at some point. Some of you might love one.

Maybe we havent told you because we don’t trust you. Or maybe we trust you, but we don’t know if we will be able to trust you next week. Or maybe we don’t trust your friends.

But  mostly we don’t know who we can trust.

Don’t let your friend or loved one be the ones who dies with their secrets. Or the one who emails a stranger with their amazing stories but can’t tell anyone in their lives.

If you want to spot a hooker:

Don’t presume you are not talking to a sex worker when you make that nasty comment about us.

Don’t presume there are no sex workers in the room feeling uncomfortable or unsafe when you pass judgement about us.

Don’t presume that you are not talking about someones loved one or family member when you discuss stereotypes and misconceptions about sex workers.

We are not just in the brothels, we are everywhere. Perhaps even in your home.

Don’t fail our test.

If you haven’t heard stories like mine before, you haven’t been asking the right questions.

The many wigs of a whore

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clients, discrimination, escort, friends and family, Love, money, mother blame, parenting, personal stories, sex industry, Sex Work, single mothers, south australia, stigma, the boss, whore shame

I was pretty keen to return to sex work after doing the dutiful wife thing for a while. During my semi retirement from the sex industry I had found other work and done some study. I did enjoy my ‘straight job’ but as soon as I separated from my children’s father I was planning my return to sex work.

I missed the money and the flexibility of sex work. Obviously. But it was more than that. I missed hanging out with other sex workers, I missed providing indulgent pleasure, I missed the compliments, I missed the feeling of being my own boss, even when I was working for someone else there is power in knowing you are (or your service is) the ‘product’. And Ofcourse I missed playing dress ups! Wigs, lingerie, costumes, sexy shoes, red lipstick, pretty nails… the best excuse for a usually plain looking busy single mum to indulge my girly side!

Besides stopping sex work was never my idea in the first place so I had  no doubts about returning.

But things had changed since the last time I worked. I’m mother now. I had to rethink my happy hooker image this time round. So for the first time I went into the hooker closet where I stayed for a long time. I wanted to protect my children from the stigma that my job carries, and I needed to protect our family from the discrimination that we might have otherwise faced. Through sheer determination my separation with the father had been fairly painless, there had been no custody battles and I certainly didn’t want to jeopardise that. Not to mention, sex work is STILL ILLEGAL in South Australia! I didn’t want to make our family vulnerable to attacks from any of the possibilities I had considered or the ones I hadn’t. So I invested in a wig.

I reduced my hours at my straight job, took my wig and started working at a very small escort agency. Originally I only kept my straight job as a cover so my friends, family and the whole world wouldn’t find out my dirty little secret but it turned out I really enjoyed the variety of the different roles I had or the different hats I wore in my day-to-day life. I was a stay at home mum on some days, I had a respectable day job on some days, made wads of cash on other days and, with my kids spending every second weekend at their dads, I had a chance to act my age and spend my wads of cash on the occasional night out on the town. I even kept up with a little bit of study throughout it all, it kept me busy between bookings.

And busy I was. The escort agency I worked at was very small with not many staff. I mainly worked  during the day sitting alone with the receptionist while she worked the phones trying to secure bookings. When she got one the owner/driver would drive me to my booking and bring me back to the office to wait for the next one. Day business for escorting was pretty quiet and that was fine for me because it meant I was the only worker on shift. But it also meant I was pretty much the only one making money.  Businesses need more than one worker to make a profit. So when the receptionist left, the owner decided not to replace her.

Fine by me, I started answering the phones. I could do a better job of selling myself anyway, plus this way I get all the day bookings PLUS the receptionists cut!

Now here is where I let you client types in on a little secret. I know many trade secrets, most of which I will never tell.  But some are harmless and make for a good story.

I’m sure this will not come as a surprise to those experienced punters, but many sex industry businesses find very creative ways of marketing the workers they have available to potential clients. While mostly it’s just a case of finding enticing ways to describe the workers using rose-tinted glosses and sexy adjectives, there are some businesses that will take it further. Everything from exaggerated measurements and optimistic age ranges to completely made up characters are used in an attempt to get a bite from potential clients. Some places are worse for this than others, I once worked at an agency that had standard adds running daily in the local paper that read “Eva Italian brunette lingerie model” or “Candi the blonde beach babe” and when a client called up looking for Eva or Candi the agency would send out any blonde or any brunette available. And if there is no blonde to play the part of Candi, no problems, we have wigs.

A common trick is to ask the caller what kind of worker they were looking for. If they tell you they want a mature redhead – Hey Presto!  That’s what we invent.

And so with only one worker (me) answering phones and doing bookings I quickly adapted to this sales technique. I had 2 different wigs, 3 different names (4 if you include the receptionists name) and a couple of different life stories.

I was Nikki the 21-year-old bubbly blonde, busty and cute

I was Bridget the brunette in her early twenties with the hourglass figure

I was Melissa who was 27 with a platinum bob and long legs.

And I could pass for all three descriptions easily. I enjoyed playing the game, it amused me. As a single mum I already had so many different hats, and now one of them was wearing a bunch of different wigs.

Pimping out my three characters worked well for a while, they all got repeat business and we all made money. And  then the inevitable happened. One of Nikki’s clients wanted a booking with Bridget. And he was quite persistent.

Well I had felt pretty clever up until then, but the gig was up.  I was a good mattress actress but I couldn’t pull that one-off (so to speak). The client was disappointed to learn that both Bridget and Melissa had run off into the sunset together never to return, preventing him from ever meeting either of them.

Not long after, I took Nikki off the market and went looking for greener pastures.

Mother and a Whore

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discrimination, feminism, friends and family, Love, mother blame, parenting, personal stories, rants, Relationships, Sex Work, single mothers, stigma, whore shame

I also wanted to title this post:  Wont somebody think of the children!!

There will sometimes come a time in a persons life when they fall in love and ‘settle down’. And I quickly realised that for a lot of people ‘settle down’ means I am expected to stop sex work and find something else to do to make money and fill my time. So when I met and started dating  Jack I knew it was just a matter of time before he voiced a problem with my job. Things got serious and we moved in together and sure enough it wasn’t long before Jack told me that he loved me so much that I had to find a new job. I had been through this before and so I pretty much gave in to his insecurities straight away. I stopped sex work and started applying for ‘straight work’.

Skipping through the long and not very interesting story, Jack and I had babies, fell out of love and separated.  I immediately went straight back to sex work. It was a choice. Yes it was a choice made by a single mother, but it was my choice just the same. I reduced the hours I was working in my ‘straight job’ and started back working for a local escort agency while my kids were either at school, childcare or at their fathers. Instantly I felt the judgemental double sting of mother blaming joined with whore shaming. Those who always knew and supported my choice to do sex work, had a different opinion now that I was a mother. There are people who believe that being a sex worker automatically makes me a bad mother. Maybe even the readers of this blog have questions. So in order to continue telling you my stories I thought I should get these questions out of the way – upfront.

What will you tell your child?

How would you feel if your daughter turned out to be a hooker?

What happens when your son finds out you fuck for money?

What will their friends think of them at school?

Im going to answer these questions here and now, once and for all, in response to all those well meaning people who seem to struggle to get their head around me, my work, my relationships, and my family. I may follow this post up with answers to other popular questions such as “Is there a difference between sex work and ‘real sex’”  “how can you ask me to be faithful when you’re fucking all those other men?” “do you have any self respect?” and my favourite usually asked at completely inappropriate social functions…..“will you fuck me if I pay you for it? What about your friend?”.

But for now im going to start with the ones that I find most offensive, and that’s the ones that involve my motherhood.

What will I tell my child?

I, like other working mums, tell my child age appropriate information that describes what mum does for a job. Unfortunately, I have to be careful, because I don’t want my little tacker running off to school ruining his social calendar for his entire school life because he told Tommy who told his mum that his best friend’s mum is a hooker. So I choose my words carefully. Mum works at a massage centre. At a young age they don’t know enough about the world to say much more than that anyway.  When they get a little bit older and the conversation comes up or when they ask, I might say something more like: mum gives sexy massages. Over the years each time the topic comes up I will tell them a little bit more. After all I don’t see this as any different to what I vet might say… “I fix animals when they are sick” The vet doesn’t say to her 4 year old that sometimes she has remove a uterus or cut off testicles or give lethal injections to cute kittens etc. There is no need for that child to know the finer details yet, but as they get older, they will be given more information. No different to my plan, except of course I have to deal with the fact everyone else thinks im a bad person. So at some point I have what I see as a harder discussion. Those are the discussions about what everyone else thinks of my job. These are discussions that are hard and hurtful to my family.

How would I feel if my daughter became a hooker?

I hope my children grow up to be happy, healthy and respectful adults. That’s all I wish for them. I know for a fact that being a hooker doesn’t mean you can’t be happy, healthy and respectful. However I do know that everyone else’s attitudes to sex work can create barriers to a sex worker being happy. But I feel those are my children’s choices to make. If being a hooker made my daughter or son happy, I would not have any concerns. What would hurt my son or daughter and our family, all sex workers and their families, is the attitude everyone else has to sex work and sex workers.

What happens when my son finds out I fuck for money?

To be honest I can’t imagine my children using those words with me. I do expect there will be some words about my job thrown at me during different phases of rebellion as I imagine most parents deal with..…even non whores. If I try to be honest with them, my children will grow up respecting me and sex workers. It is possible that the attitudes of other people may encourage resentment in my kids towards me or my work, but if that ever happens I am confident that once they move through the rebellion phase they will again see that my job was a positive thing for our family, that it was just a job and that the rest of the world is unfair in its discrimination of me and my work.

What will their friends think of them at school?

This is an area that I have no control over. It is an area that I have the most sadness about and the area I wish my kids didn’t have to deal with. However I don’t see other people’s attitudes as my fault. My kids have never suffered because of my work, to the contrary, they have a happy, healthy respectful mum who has a well paying flexible job that allows me to be the sort of mother I always wanted to be. In my own way I try to educate people to see sex work as work, nothing more or less than a job. Once again I see other people’s stigma and discrimination about sex workers as the only innate problem of my work. It all comes down to what other people think. It means I have to have conversations with my kids about being careful about who exactly they say what to and about other people’s bad attitude. I might even have to teach them to lie so they can protect themselves from your stigma.

It is because of other people’s ignorance that my children may suffer. Not because I am a sex worker.

You feel sorry for my kids? Do something about it and examine your own discriminatory attitudes.

Sidetrack – Abortion.

Tags

abortion, birth control, contraception, feminism, parenting, pro choice, rants, single mothers

As a menstruating woman, who has had sex with sperm producing men for many reasons other than procreation,  I would like to say a few things about birth control and access to abortions.

Disclaimer: This post is nothing but another indulgent rant bought to you by “letters i need to write and arguments I need to have and things I need to say, after reading other people’s blogs”. The public venting I need to have!

Ok: if you want to decrease the rate of abortions there are a few things you need to consider before you go round trying to put some more laws onto women’s bodies.   Women not only need  access to good quality sex education and reproductive information and options, we don’t only need access to cheap birth control. What we actually need is access to BETTER BIRTH CONTROL! Currently the choices available to human beings who want to prevent pregnancy are abysmal, and nearly all of them place all of the responsibility on the woman.

 There is the condom: responsibility for initiating condom use often falls to the woman and paradoxically is used as a tool of humiliation against her (eg young women in possession of condoms are seen as having loose morals) or in the case of sex work, used against us as evidence of a crime. And even condoms are of limited effectiveness if they are not accompanied with good education about how to use and negotiate them (for the record they are my only means of birth control and I have found them to be 100% effective).

There are hormonal options such as “the pill” and the various injections they have these days. These are problematic for many of us. I refuse to use these methods due to their effects on my body and mental health. They made me stop having periods, made me lose my libido, I put on weight, i was moody and emotional, had sore boobs etc etc. And that is only the beginning for some women.

There are diaphragms or IUD’s which again are only a women’s responsibility and we’ve all heard the horror stories.

There is the invasive and permanent surgical options for men and women but they are not an option for those who may want to bare children in the future.

There is the morning after pill, which is simply an overdose of the hormonal treatments mentioned above and has the accompanying overdose of side effects.

There is abortion with the mental, emotional, physical, hormonal and personal stress and trauma it can bring apon the woman.

And adoption, and all the associated life and body changing effects of carrying a baby full term.

In ALL THESE CASES IT’S THE WOMANS RESPONSIBILITY! Eg: two consenting adults fall into bed in a lusty passion or a drunken stupor or whatever. Neither partner mentions birth control for whatever reason. The man presumes that if she hasn’t asked for a condom she must be employing some other contraceptive method. Why cant the women presume the same of the man? Well baisically because even if he is wrong and the woman was not using any form of contraceptive the man will still continue his life over the following weeks probably never giving an unwanted pregnancy a second thought. But the woman cannot walk away. She spends the next 48 hours weighing up the likelihood of falling pregnant, wondering if its worth putting her body through the full on stress and turmoil of the morning after pill. Or having this life altering threat of unwanted pregnancy in the back of her mind until the day her period arrives and she can sigh relief.  It’s only her problem.

This issue sends me crazy.

Why the fuck should a woman have to turn her body upside down to stop herself getting pregnant from mens semen??!!? Why has someone not made better options that let men take responsibility. Why oh why is there no men’s contraceptive pill!!.

And if she decides to have the baby, after 9 months of living like a saint and having the whole wide world think they have rights to her body she gets rewarded with the joy of motherhood. If the guy who knocked her up didn’t turn out to be father material for whatever reason – TO BAD – SHE STILL GOTTA STEP UP AND PLAY MUMMA. For ever. And she better not make one tiny mistake because as a single mother – EVERYONE’S JUDGING HER!  

Ofcourse the man may “help her out” and do dad duty every other weekend, for which the world will nominate him for father of the year, while strangers tell the woman how lucky she is that ‘baby dada’ plays good time fun guy when it suits him. Meanwhile the man goes onto have succesful career and the woman is destined for part-time or casual jobs that fit around her parenting.

God forbid there are any taxes left after the greedy politicians get their perks, to help out the single mother and her child. Because if she takes a cent, she will NEVER HEAR THE END! And the government will be doing its best to pimp her out to the closest thing to husband material, in order to hand over any financial responsibility for this single mother and her child, effectively making her and her child completely dependent on any employed man that she dates in the future.

And everyone will judge her even more for shacking with a man who is not the father of her baby.

She gets to deal with ALL of this, it’s not negotiable.

Sexually active heterosexual women spend so much of their lives trying to navigate this shit and sexually active heterosexual men spend about 10 minutes every 5 years thinking about it. It sucks. And it is so much more than a need for better sex education and access to cheap birth control. Its massive.

And in the meantime, I dont want to hear anybody dare try argue against a women’s right to terminate a pregnancy. Not before I see men being forced to carry babies, have pregnancies and deal with birthing, equal parenting and equal birth control responsibilities.

*please note – I have used massive and over the top generalisations which are based on what we all fucking know. But these generalisations obviously do not apply to everyone or represent all experiences. Just a hell of a lot of them*