Friday 3 October 2014

Haters Gonna Hate. Themselves.

I got an email early this morning (see below). It links to a very insulting tweet about me, and contains a photo of me stolen from my twitter account, and re-posted without my permission.



I opened this link literally 2 minutes before my client arrived. At first I was like "oh. that's really mean" but I put it out of my mind as my client was here, and undivided attention is part of the service I offer. We had our fun together, kissed, laughed, fucked and sucked each other, came really hard together, and he was gone in under 30 minutes. A stack of 20's on the table, and my own self overjoyed with the prospect of paying not only my phone bill, but having enough left over for some winter boots and maybe even some new clothes! Fabulous.

Then I came back to check my email and remembered, oh yeah, some wanker on twitter sent out an abusive tweet about me and posted my picture without permission - and of course, he was too cowardly to say it directly to me.

I'm a fat woman. I'm also a sex worker. Being degraded, insulted, mocked, called names, de-valued, and treated with utter contempt and disrespect is nothing new to me (and no, it's NOT my clients who do this). I've been dealing with it, literally, since I was 4 years old (I've always been large). When I first started doing sex work, there were a few scattered negative comments about me, mostly on TERB (or TURD as most sex workers I know call it), always about my body or looks (I've yet to see a negative comment or review about my service). I avoid that site entirely, have found clients easily without it, and have a decent list of long-term regulars with whom I have wonderful relationships.

So seeing a hateful tweet like the one above didn't surprise me. My first thought was "hmmm. Maybe 'torontohobbyman' is pissed because I didn't follow him back last year?" My second thought was "wow. I am SO LUCKY that I am a fat woman. If I was not a fat woman, if I fit the very narrow mold into which he pours his beauty standard, I might end up spending time with a client like that".

Now, I know I've spent time with judgmental men who are ashamed of their attraction to fat women, and that's ok. Part of the beauty of this work is that I get to exploit fat-phobia, and male shame about being into fat chicks. I enjoy that. Obviously, guys who wouldn't proudly be with someone who looks like me would never get to be with me outside of a business context. But the thought of spending time with someone like this guy, who is clearly super insecure with himself, who probably hates himself, and who certainly hates women (because men who love women don't degrade them - even the ones they don't want to fuck), made me shudder. I feel bad for the escorts on the receiving end of his "flirtatious" (see: creepy) tweets, and I frowned imagining what kind of client he must be. I'm thankful that I'll never have to know. (My guess: picky, demanding, boring, and super entitled. Probably also a lingerer. But, this is purely speculation.) Being ashamed is one thing. It takes a special kind of hatred of fat women specifically, but of women in general, to engage in this sort of demeaning behaviour.

"Nobody Hates You More Than Your Reflection" - Atmosphere
There is nothing wrong with paying for sex, and people do it for all sorts of reasons. One of those reasons is that folks are unable, either due to their looks, hygiene, social skills, body type (those narrow societal standards, again), latent misogyny, or on account of a shitty personality, to "get" the kinds of women (or men) they find most attractive to sleep with them, which I suspect is this particular client's reason. Because who else, other than someone who hates their own reflection, and women in general (because of the many who've rejected them), spends their time trolling for pictures of women online they deem undesirable, only to post their photos, without permission, simply to degrade and abuse them? Who else, other than the saddest, most insecure of individuals, has to seek out others, who've never even interacted with them, just to insult, mock, and name-call them on twitter? And who but an equally sad, hateful, and unloved individual informs you of said insults, only to insult you more, while simultaneously trying to fake-book an appointment? 

LOL. Seriously dude? Never gonna happen.


I recognize his hatred. I grew up, and still live, as someone deemed undesirable, and I used to be somewhat like this guy: judging the fuck out of everyone around me in a vain, counterintuitive (and unsuccessful) attempt to feel better about myself. It was always fuelled by jealousy, self-hatred, low self-esteem, and/or longing to simply be loved, accepted, and desired. It seems to me that those who so often target folks like me, ARE folks like me, (or like who I USED to be) who've had to deal with bullies, name-calling, and ample rejection. I recognize his hurt, masked as annoyance or superiority, over "undesirables" like fat women. I never went quite so far, at least not as an adult, to seek out others I found gross or joke-worthy just to mock their looks or bodies, but I have mocked people's appearances when I had the chance.

Hurt People Hurt People
And you know what I've learned? Hurting others - because ultimately, I think that's his goal, and the goal of every basic creature who feels compelled to spew hatred at strangers for not looking a way they deem acceptable - never, ever made me feel better for more than a few minutes. And I won't lie, seeing my picture - a picture which I love - splashed on the internet, and reading that people wouldn't have sex with me for $5,000, or any of the other ways people love to degrade women like me, can be hurtful. If I was having a bad day, I may have even cried. But it's not new. It's nothing I haven't heard a million other times, in a million other ways, from a million other irrelevant, lost souls. It mostly just saddens me that human beings feel the need to be so unendingly cruel to each other.

Hurt people hurt people. I know who you are, hobbyman et al. I've met you before. In my mirror, and in the world, countless times. If your goal was to hurt my feelings, or remind me, for the millionth time, that other so-called humans see nothing wrong with mocking someone based on their size or looks, mission accomplished. I was bothered until after the first paragraph or so, and those reminders are a constant part of my daily life. If your goal was to shake my confidence, put me "in my place", deter potential clients, make me hate or doubt myself, or make me feel worthless, I'm happy to report: MISSION FAILED.

If your goal in insulting me was simply to look cool for your judgmental, fat-hating buddies, feel better about yourself, or soothe your clearly sad, troubled heart, make escorts think you're a desirable client, or feel less pathetic, then I hope you succeeded. But I know you didn't.

At the end of the day, you're the one actively seeking me, and other fat (or otherwise derision-worthy) women out, just to have a few laughs at our expense. You're the one paying countless women to sleep with you (a wonderful endeavour on its own - don't get me wrong - paid sex is amazing), women who, I can almost guarantee, would have nothing to do with you otherwise, because you're mean, and a bully, and your hatred for women is obvious. The women you desire can see that as easily as I can, and I promise you, some of them are completely offended by it. You're the one sitting at your computer for hours, looking for people to make fun of. Who does that?

At the end of the day, I treat myself, and others who've caused me no harm, with kindness, love, and respect. I have a table full of friends, laughter, warmth, and joy. I've created beautiful art, woven perfect words together, and just had hot sex with a ridiculously handsome man, for which I was very well paid. I possess goodness, talents, and the ability to inspire others. At the end of the day, I LOVE MYSELF and the countless amazing people I'm blessed to know. I don't need to cut others down, even when I feel jealous, insecure, or bad about myself.

At the end of the day, I am still awesome, and insignificant people like you will never take that away from me. 

Friday 19 September 2014

Bill #C36 - Tears and Fears

I try to keep this blog sexy, but this is too important to gloss over. Plus, sex workers' rights, and the rights of clients to consensually hire us, are VERY sexy! This needs to be said, and shared, and spoken about. This horror show, AKA Bill C-36, which is supposedly meant to "help" sex workers (though we're consistently referred to as "prostitutes" or "prostituted women" in proceedings), in which so few current sex workers were even consulted (and none of us were taken seriously by the majority of the government), and which we've been SCREAMING is going to put ALL of us in more danger, is most likely going to pass next week, and it's going to be YEARS before it can be challenged again.

I'm sitting at my computer, tears running down my face, listening to Police Association President Stamatakis "testify" about how wonderful and helpful bill #c-36 will be to police who want to arrest "men who want to do abhorrent things" to "especially the most marginalized women" in society. And on the surface, it sounds OK, if you're someone who doesn't bristle at whore-phobic phrases like "none of us want our children growing up to be prostitutes", "no woman chooses this kind of life for herself" or "all sex work is violence against women" (all of which were actually said by abolition groups, senators, and police during these proceedings, repeatedly). If you're thinking those are reasonable statements, you're blind to the stigma and stereotypes surrounding sex work.

People who haven't been following these proceedings, who aren't involved in sex work, who don't have friends who've been arrested for doing VALID work they either consensually chose (and in a lot of cases, as mine, genuinely enjoy) or who turned to it as a last resort (or any of the million other reasons people choose sex work), who don't know anyone who's lost their housing, their children, their day jobs, THEIR LIVES, all because they accepted money for sex or a sexual service,
may not understand why I'm crying. They may not understand the unique fear inherent to sex work: of being outed, of being rejected by a potential mate or landlord or employer, of being disowned, of being thought of as dirty and diseased and damaged, of being attacked (physically, online, verbally, sexually), or of everything I've outlined above and below, simply due to their profession. Friends of mine who've cried during their testimony were attacked online by so-called "feminists", accused of shedding "crocodile tears", supposedly in manipulative attempts to garner sympathy (as though constantly regaling us with sad stories of past exploitation, addiction, abusive relationships and exploitative working conditions can't be placed in the same category, if one is being cynical). People who are only observing this, and who don't have friends, family, partners, lovers, children, or anyone else they love being impacted by this may not understand my tears, my rage, or my sense of utter hopelessness. 

I am not alone in feeling this way. I'm blessed to be connected (in numerous ways) to a large community of sex workers, from Dommes, cam girls, escorts, porn actors, and sugar babies (and beyond). People who have saved my life, uplifted me, prioritized me and other workers, and whose resilience, brilliance, and strength seems boundless. People who, at first, I was shocked to discover were "just normal people like me". As far as I can tell, at least based on those I've been in contact with (in addition to the chorus of voices online, including those "marginalized women" politicians are so keen on "saving"), we are ALL (to varying degrees) feeling down, afraid, hated, depressed, vulnerable, isolated, ANGRY, and very much against C36. It's especially troubling after what so many of us (myself excluded) felt was the great victory of Bedford V. Canada.

Try to imagine for a moment that your work (whatever work it is you do) was surrounded by societal shame, even if the work you do provides a pleasurable, valuable, and often healing experience for others. Imagine your job is selling sandwiches, but purchasing sandwiches is illegal. Imagine if, while on the job, you faced violence/rape/coercion/threats or any sort of abuse or exploitation, and, because of the shame, stigma, and criminalization of your work, you felt too afraid to ask police for help, because you know, based on their track record, that you will, at best, be ignored, and at worst re-victimized/arrested. Imagine if you DID seek the help of police, based on their constant public proclamations of being "on your side", and instead of your abuser facing justice (a very inaccurate term to describe the racist, classist Canadian system), you wind up being arrested, having your earnings seized, being evicted, losing custody of your children, being deported/losing your immigration status, and being told your only options are a criminal record, or a program to "rehabilitate" you, even though there is nothing wrong with you or your line of work. Imagine the police sitting outside of your work place, in full view of your neighbours, in the hopes of catching you doing something that both you and your client have fully consented to, and which is harming or impacting no one? Supporters of C36 will argue that workers themselves won't be targeted, but the sections pertaining to communicating in public, keeping a bawdy house, advertising, living off the avails, and even criminalizing the purchase of sex will mean that sex workers who want to find and service clients will be facilitating or participating in criminal acts. 

Remember, there is no universal experience of sex work, despite what prominent people say. It's not inherently degrading or inherently empowering. Sometimes it's about survival. Or making money. Or exploring your own sexuality. Or the only reasonable option for getting a fix. Or it's fun. Or it's the only thing that's ever worked for you. Yes. Sometimes sex work is horrible, degrading, and soul-crushing. Just like any other job. Sometimes sex work is fun, easy, educational, and rewarding. Just like any other job. Sometimes it's tedious, boring, annoying, exploitative, and exhausting. Just like any other job. Sometimes it's lucrative, and sometimes you have to eat canned beans or ramen noodles for a month, a dynamic many creative freelancers can easily relate to. 

But almost always, sex workers provide a service which has never been illegal in Canada, which has been around longer than agriculture, and which usually involves an act that is perfectly legal when a camera is rolling, or when offered in exchange for dinner, trips, and shopping sprees, or when performed for free, and which is often (and traditionally) the basis for marriage. If someone is being forced to engage in sex acts, against their will, that is called rape, NOT sex work or prostitution, and we already have laws, which go largely unenforced, against that. I constantly see politicians, police, "sex work survivors" and "women's rescue centres" confusing and deliberately conflating the two, when they're not the same. You wouldn't compare rape to sex, would you? If you would, you lack a fundamental understanding of both sex and rape.

If you've never done sex work, and you're basing what you think you know on the popular mainstream narrative of stranger-danger involving exploited, addicted women, accompanied by a seemingly endless supply of stereotypical stock photos of women in short skirts and 13" inch heels leaning into cars on cold, dark streets, and you've never gotten to know an actual sex worker, then I can see why my tears might not make sense to you. You probably tell yourself I'm sad at what I've become, at what I've reduced myself to. You see whore is the worst thing a woman can be, in most people's minds. But I'm not ashamed. I'm proud of myself, and I love that I was able to (briefly) pull myself out of poverty.
 
I'm angry, and afraid, and sad that controlling women's bodies and pandering to conservative voters (the core of C36) is more important to our society, government and law enforcement than the epidemics of rape, climate change, poverty, food insecurity, colonialism (the ROOT cause of harms facing Indigenous women in this country, and worldwide - which is rarely even acknowledged), racism, and domestic violence. I cry when I listen to a bunch of rich, entitled, white men (and a few women), who hold my safety, my future in their hands, discuss me as though I am an object for them to use, as though I have no agency, as though I am just a dumb, lost, fallen woman who would really rather be crucified at the alter of their moralism, if only they could make me see what's good for me. Is that not exploitation? I cry because the rage is too deep to manifest any other way.

I cry because I have several tens of thousands in student loan debts, am educated but for some reason unable to find "vanilla" work, and I can't do most types of work due to physical limitations and bodily injuries, and my one and ONLY means of survival (and only hope for one day being out of debt and poverty) is soon to be criminalized and ripped away. If you're someone like me, who is lucky enough to have low rent in a city built for millionaires, if you're someone who would likely end up homeless if evicted from their apartment (a very real danger when doing sex work from home - something I am unable to do under criminalization, even though it's safer), and who has no savings, no safety net, no insurance, no work references, the realization that in a week's time you could face legalized police harassment, arrest, eviction, and homelessness is crushing. It feels like there's a mountain on my shoulders. There is no alternative for me. No first and last month's rent. No money for movers. No money for hotel rooms. No hope. For someone like me, who is already in a niche (bbw) market, soon to be crossing into another niche (milf/mature), who everyone is quick to say "won't be targeted" by police, I cry because I simply can't afford to take that chance. I cry because I have no idea what I'm going to do, but most importantly, I cry because sex work is what I feel I was meant to do at this juncture in my life. I love it. I love my clients. I love what I've learned doing this work. I love the ways in which I've found, cared for, and asserted myself. It is where I found community, strength, power, self-confidence. At least they can't take the latter away from me. I guess that's something.


Photos:
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BqH81EeCIAAHslC.jpg:large
https://twitter.com/hashtag/joysmithmeme
http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2010/12/17/whore-stigma-makes-no-sense/
http://pbs.twimg.com/media/BsOqC4-CQAE3OvA.jpg

Saturday 1 February 2014

Helpful Sex Work Links

Here are some links to accompany a presentation I'm giving to the Prisoner's Justice Film Festival

These are in NO WAY representative of the entire spectrum of voices out there, and I suggest you seek out other voices as well. But these are some links and people I've found very insightful, and helpful.

In no particular order….

Emi Koyama (breaks down the myths of trafficking data, among other awesome writings)

POWER

Book - Selling Sex: Experience, advocacy, and research on sex work in Canada

Maggie's Toronto

SPOC - Sex Professionals of Canada

Native Youth Sexual Health Network

Scarlet Alliance - Australian Sex Workers' Association

Noami Kwe - Fierce Indigenous Feminist

Nikki Thomas - Former Executive Director of SPOC

Tits and Sass - One Big Service Piece

Everyday Abolition

Molli Desi Devadasi

Red Umbrella Project - Amazing Podcast Series

Anna Saini

N'Jaila Rhee

Best Policy Practices

Desiree Alliance (hosts a yearly conference on sex work)

Melissa Gira Grant

And for those on twitter, there are A LOT of great conversations happening (and also a lot of ignorant bullshit being spread by anti sex-work activists, so be warned):

Check out these hashtags (the # symbol) on twitter
#sexwork
#NotYourRescueProject
#AfterBedford
#BedfordSCC
#CDNpoli
#TOpoli
#lndont
#QuestionsForAmnesty (who recently called for decrim)
#ListenToSurvivors (started by SW abolitionists)
#AJstream (re. the recent Al Jazeera segment on sex work)

And these twitter users:
@NYSHN
@kwetoday
@thatSabineGirl
@FemWho
@AudaciaRay
@Jess_Danforth
@MaggiesToronto
@PhyreCracker
@BlasianBytch
@FemmeiFest
@MolliDesi
@DarbyBPPP
@BrazenLee
@TracyQuanNYC
@ScarletAlliance
@MistressMatisse

@MelissaGira

Thursday 23 January 2014

A Bang In The Night - NSFW

A loud BANG wakes me up. My heart is racing. My eyes adjust to the moonlit darkness of the room. I hear only the sound of my breathing and see no movement. I feel for my cell phone, the rest of my body stiff, in case the intruder I imagine to be in my apartment is in my bedroom. 3:33AM. "BANG" I hear it again, this time, it's obviously coming from outside my heavy, steel apartment door.

Saturday 8 June 2013

Hey "radfems" - A poem

"I'd like to acknowledge that this event is taking place on uncedded Native land, and I'd like to thank our Native Canadian hosts for very graciously tolerating our presence here on Turtle Island.

NOTE: this poem contains rather excessive swearing




Hey "rad fems!"


Saturday 1 December 2012

On self-respect (I have it)

EDIT: Due to facebook's totally hypocritical standards, and fat phobic behavior, I've been banned for posting pictures of myself in bra and panties. 

I've been hearing a lot of what I can only bullshit lately, mostly in personal circles, more specifically from "friends" on facebook.

It usually starts something like this: Random facebook guy, whom I've never met, seen, or heard of, will send me a friend request. I accept them all, because I am on facebook to meet potential clients and make money. It has to be said that on my public profile, I CLEARLY state that I am hooker, and you should know this before adding me as a friend.