The shame rubs off on you

I was just catching up on my reading and came across Melissa Gira's blog. Melissa is a sex worker who is also a free-lance writer, activist, and some other things. I came upon a sentence in her entry about a vigil to help end violence against sex workers, which she organized. This is what she wrote:

There is too much risk already in this work, in moving in the world as those who carry so much of people’s sexual shame and fear and pain.

Wow. I don't intend to address the violence we in the sex/entertainment biz face, although I know it is a very real risk. What really floored me was the way she nailed how being in this business colors how I face the world around me.

In my work, I really do see a lot of the seedy side of people. Not seedy people, just the seedy, seamy side we all have. I am at peace with my darker side, for the most part, which makes me able to face that darkness in other people. But thing is, that darkness scares a lot of people. Their own dark side scares them, and other people's darkness scares them too.

We all fear the unknown, the unexamined side of ourselves. We fear the unknown in others, possible because it reflects our own hidden selves. Because we fear the abyss, it is difficult to face and examine it. Without examination, or hidden selves remain unknown and fearsome, and the cycle continues.

Here come the sex workers and the entertainers, who listen to, act out, interact with, and participate in the hidden aspects of so many people. We see their fears; we touch their shame. Whether this harms or even changes us, is not the point. The world outside these personal little dramas knows instinctively that we have had our hands in the dirty, murky parts of other minds, and fears we are contaminated. They believe that shame rubs off on us like coal dust, and if they come too near us, the dirt and dust of all those unexamined fantasies will somehow transfer to them. It will stain them and sully them. It will make them unclean.

Whether they have given it that much thought or not, that is what people mean when they say they don't want to "associate with" certain groups of other people. They know I carry part of the shame and fear and pain of hundreds of other people. I know they know it. I know they fear it.

I regard people outside the industry warily. To them, I am an unknown "other" because I make my living where angels fear to tread. I am unsure how they will handle the truth of my life, but I know what their gut reaction will be if I choose to tell them. I've seen that before: one split second of horror before they arrange their features and choose their reply.

I move in the world as one who carries other people's fear and pain and shame, and I carry a shield, too, to protect me from those who fear where I've been.

I don't normally post on politics, but . . .

In the first place, I believe our First Amendment rights are the most important ones that we, as citizens of a free and democratic country, can possess. Most importantly, our freedom of speech and the press is absolutely essential to our lives as free people. After all, how can we, as voters and citizens and tax-payers, make any decisions about whom to vote for or how our country is to be run or how our money is to be spent, if we don't know all the facts?

I don't make many political comments, either in my writing or in person, because frankly I am ashamed of my inability to keep up with all the news. When I was young and impressionable, I dated a guy who poked holes in any political or economic idea I managed to formulate, which forever after made me not want to open my mouth on the subject. (I later came to realize that was his failing, not mine. ) Today I read an article that completely vindicates me. As I was reading it, I kept saying to myself, "See! I knew it all along!"

This article is by JT Benjamin. It was originally published (as far as I know) on the Erotica Readers and Writers Association website.

Here is a teaser:

I took a long drink of my Samuel Adams Honey Porter and said, “You know what Sarah Palin is? She’s a bimbo . . . .She’s like one of those spokesmodels you see at car shows who’s just supposed to stand there and look pretty and draw in the potential customers and extol the virtues of the vehicle going around on the turntable. In this case, of course, the vehicle’s a Model T Ford. . . ."

Here is the complete text.

This is an excellent article. It makes several good points that had occurred to me, but that I had not seen mentioned anywhere else in the media. I won't say any thing else about it, until you have had a chance to read it for yourself. But be warned, heretofore I will not be keeping my opinions to myself!

So This Lady Accused Me of Having No Morals

When I first put up my MySpace page, some woman sent me a message. The Subject line read "Morals." The entire body of the message read, "Do you even know what they are?" I liked my reply to this letter so well I decided to publish it here.

Dear Paige:

About a week ago, you sent me an e-mail with the subject “morals” and the entire body of the message read as follows:

“Do you even know what they are?”

I wondered, as in my reply to you, why you were concerned with my education or lack of it, but you never answered my question. I can only assume that you are too busy sending such messages to every stripper, exotic dancer, adult industry model, and porn actress on MySpace. That’s OK; as the moral watchdog of MySpace, you must have a lot to do.

As to your original question:

Yes, dear Paige, I do know what morals are. I think my Mom first introduced the concept to me. I further refined my ideas at the University of Maryland (Phi Theta Kappa, Class of ‘95—GO TARAPINS!) and while serving my country in the US Army Signal Corps. Just to be certain, I looked it up. This is what my dictionary says:

Morals: principles of right and wrong as they govern standards of general or sexual behavior (emphasis mine)

Well, since I am a sex worker, I have to believe it is the sexual aspect of this definition to which you are referring. I have drawn the conclusion that because my principles of right and wrong, as they govern sex-oriented entertainment and quasi-sexual behavior, are different form yours, you have discounted my principles and simply choose to believe I have none.

Shame on you, Paige. And you call yourself a Christian (other).

I would never tell you that your moral convictions are wrong; however I have a right to defend my moral ground as well. I am always honest and forthright in my business dealings. I do not go home with my customers, and I do not pretend that I will. I never lie about my marital status, and I never lie to my husband about what I do at work. In fact, the only time I ever lie about anything regarding my work is to protect somebody who would be hurt by the truth, like my son. I lie to his teachers and the PTA about what I do, to protect my son from people like you.

I am not trying to steal your husband, nor am I trying to steal all his money. I don’t want it on my conscience that I helped some man spend the grocery money and half the rent, because I know how devastating that can be to his wife and kids. How do I know? Because I’ve been there, baby.

What I am trying to do is feed my kid and pay my bills, just like any normal American parent. My decision to work in the sex entertainment field, rather than one of the many other things I could be doing, is all about the hours and the flexibility. I can be here for my family when they need me. (This year I took about 6 or 7 weeks off to deal with an abnormal amount of family drama, and my work didn’t even bat an eye.) Yes, Paige, believe it or not, dancing is a family value for me.

I understand that many Christians (other) believe that any sort of sexual behavior outside of marriage is some sort of sin. Obviously I disagree. Lest you think I am being arbitrary, alow me to point out that the Old Testament is full of lovely dancing girls who are praised for their beauty and grace, not condemned. The Ten Commandments state only that a man should not covet his neighbor’s wife. Harmless flirtation is not condemned.

Jesus Himself befriended and forgave many supposedly promiscuous women, such as the woman at the well. Even His close friend Mary Magdalene is commonly believed to have been a prostitute. After her famous entrance into the story with the alabaster jar, Mary is said to have traveled with Jesus and the Twelve, one of several women who “provided for them out of their own means.” As a prostitute, “her own means” would have to be money she had saved from working, or else she may have been working still. Imagine that: The travels of Jesus and the Disciples all through the Middle East were financed, at least in part, by the earnings of a sex worker! And Jesus must have loved her anyway: Mary Magdalene was the first person Jesus came to see when He rose from the dead.

We humans are sexual beings. If, as many Christians believe, we were created by God, then it is God who made us this way. Scientists are still debating whether humans are biologically wired to mate for life, or, like the majority of species, we are meant to crave change. Perhaps it’s true what some people say, that the male mind is always looking for a new place to sew a few wild oats, while the mind of a woman is set to ensure safety and security for herself and her babies.

Imagine for a moment that it is true. Say a man loves is wife, but he needs to get out a little. Take a little vacation from reality. So he stops by a bar on the way home from work. He could go to a regular bar, hit on some girl, and take her to a hotel room. Well, that’s about the end of the marriage right there.

Or he could come to see me. Sure, we will have a drink, flirt a little, maybe I will rub his back or even dance a few songs for him. Then I give him a peck on the cheek and send him home in a good mood. When he gets home, he is a little more relaxed and happy. He doesn’t kick the dog, refrains from yelling at his kids, and is responsive to his wife. Maybe they even make love after the kids go to bed. I think that is a much happier ending, don’t you, Paige?

My point here, the moral of my story you might say, is that yes, I do understand and even practice morals. The moral code by which I work and live is very strong. It is not wrong, it’s just not yours. As a business woman in the sex-entertainment industry, I provide, with integrity, an honest service and in return get paid an honest fee. I believe deeply in the value of my work, the value of entertainment and fantasy. And (surprise!) I also beiee in the bible, especially the proverbs:

Judge not, lest ye be judged.

Seriously Warped Article in *Glamour*!

Did anybody see this? It is a demented article in Glamour magazine about one woman who started out with a pathetic life, becane a stripper, hated her life even more, quit being a stripper, and is now trying to save all the other strippers. Among the horrendous and retarded things they are implying or even stating outright is that ladies my age cannot make money dancing and so are letting the customers "put it in" while attempting to disguise the act by throwing table cloths over thier laps. What kind of club is that? As irritated I get with the Pig Pen, that is jsut unthinkable!

I wrote this reply, and I encourage you to do reply as well. The more they hear form us dancers and the people who love us, the better they will rethink this stupid position they have. Let's tell 'em what we think!

Dear Glamour:

I have read and loved your magazine for years. However, I am very disappointed to see your article, "No One Should Have to be a Stripper."

Ms. Dust seems to be doing an important and useful service for those girls who sincerely want to get out of dancing but are not sure how. I commend her for her work and her non-judgmental attitude.

Your portrayal of exotic dancers as being, to a woman, sad, desperate individuals willing to do anything to make a buck, is absolutely disgusting.

As I write this, I am sitting in my quiet farm house, having a cup of coffee and listening to Christmas music before I leave for my shift as a dancer at a small bar in Stone Park, Illinois. My life, like that of many of my friends and colleagues, is completely normal. I myself have a wonderful husband (who has a job and does not have a drug habit) and a happy, healthy son. I provide for my family an income greater than what I made teaching science, while committing fewer hours outside the home. My work provides us with extra cash for family vacations and day trips, along with the flexibility to take weeks off at a time if I need to be with my family.

I have been dancing on and off since I was 18. In fact, I will pass my 19 year anniversary next month. As a veteran in this business, I found this statement particularly offensive:

Ahnee says she saw women "who'd been working for 18 years. They had bad plastic surgery, and they'd have to have sex with customers because they weren't in demand as dancers; they'd put a tablecloth over their lap and let the man put it in." She didn't want her life to get to that.

I know many women who are my age or older, who have naturally spectacular bodies, and are in extremely high demand. Not only do they have regular customers they have cultivated over the years; they are constantly attracting new customers who admire thirty- and forty-something women for their beauty and their conversation. We are all making a good living, and we are not throwing table cloths over our laps to do so.

Sincerely,

Colleen C. O'Reilly
colleenoreilly.com


Post Script:
About 2 dozen of us at my stripper forum site sent replies to this letter. We shared them on the forum, and I can tell you, each letter was original, articulate, and intelligent. Each of us got a patronizing form letter, but no other reply. To the best of my knowledge, none of the other letters were ever published in the "Letters to the Editor" section.

I Don't NEED Saving, Thank You

This article in Glamour is seriously warped:

“No one should have to be a stripper”

She spent years dancing naked for leering men clutching $5 bills. Now she’s trying to help other women escape the soul-killing triple-X life.

Now seriously, nobody HAS to be a stripper. Me, I could have taught school. I did that for one soul-killing year. Every day I faced a few dozen cocky, arrogant, misguided adolescents and attempted to teach them the pleasures of reading and learning and using their minds. And then they told me they hadn’t done their homework because they were too busy watching TV or getting laid.

I could have stayed in retail. I could have killed more than my soul managing a Radio Shack store, mandatory 54 hours a week on $25,000 salary, with abusive customers and a misogamistic district manager. I was seriously expected to tell customers “thank you, please visit us again” after they threw merchandise at me. It happened more than once, and let me tell you, getting beaned in the side of the head with a package of four D batteries, HURTS!

But no, I chose to give all that up for the sad and depressing work of dancing. I must admit, I feel SOOOOOOOO degraded when some moron grabs my ass, that I just have to turn around and smack him for it. (Smacking people who desperately dereve it is jsut so humiliating, don’t you think??) It is completely demoralizing to have people greet me warmly, buy me drinks, and give me compliments. I felt so much more respected when the great majority of people I met in a day would imply or even say outright, what do you know; you are only a woman (teacher)?

I really hate that, you know. Having people act happy to see me. I hate it more when they say how much they enjoy my company, or my dancing, or even looking at various parts of my body. I really mostly especially hate it when I know I have made somebody happy, really brightened their day. Absolutely disgusting.

And do you know what else I hate? (Ohhhhhh, I am on a roll now!) I hate not punching a time clock. I hate not being responsible for other people’s children or merchandise or money or property. I hate being able to stay home with my kid when he needs me and taking time off to help my mom. Making my own schedule really sucks. So does picking up an extra shift or two whenever I decide I want something.

And I really really f’ing despise making as much in 2 days as I used to make all week, attempting to put a little sense into the heads of other people’s insolent brats. Now I have no bloody choice but to spend some of my extra time and income with my own son, making sure he does not grow up to be the same kind of willfully ignorant, arrogant little cuss that I so enjoy beating my head against. Damn! That was one of my life’s ambitions, to be so busy providing for my kid that I didn’t have time to raise him. And I guess I have to spend the rest of my free time building up my couple of businesses and making my husband feel like the luckiest man alive. Man, that irks me!

Yo, sister! Over here! I need to be saved!