Public Relations: My Experience as a Sex Worker in Love

Sex work isn’t something proper TS/TG folks like to talk about even though many of us have had to do sex work at one point in our lives or another.

Many of those TS/TG people who appear on that yearly butcher’s bill we call The Day of Remembrance were sex workers.

Sex Workers aren’t always  individuals who are being “sex trafficked”

Sex Workers are just another group of human beings whose work exploits them in exchange for money. No different from many if not most jobs in this fucked up capitalist system.

If anything the hatred of sex workers comes from the realization that they have put a dollar value on a service women are expected to give away for nothing.

But sex work is just another slave gig, better paying than many and taking less time out of people’s lives than most other slave gigs.

Sex Workers are ordinary people with lives beyond their jobs.

From Huffington Post:

Sex worker, activist with SWOP, blogger and general rabble-rouser

“So what do you do?” is a question I used to get asked a lot at the pub in London. Generally, I sized the person up and decided how far up the exposure scale I wanted to go. (If you’re curious, my answers, from least to most intimate, are blogger, sex blogger, sex therapist, dominatrix/escort, and kinky queer interactive sex therapist.) Usually I’d go all the way and say that I did hands-on sex therapy with an emphasis on kink and exploring sexual arousal, while offering a GFE; and they’d look at me blankly, so I’d laugh and say, “I’m a queer dominatrix-slash-hooker with a psychology degree.”

Then I’d get the “o” of surprise, often closely followed by them sobbing into their pint and telling me that their girlfriend never orgasms anymore. They’re a tightly wound bunch, the Brits. Thankfully, I rarely got the “oh, that’s terrible you have to do that!” or the rescuer-type scenario.

In San Francisco it’s a little bit different. I know a lot of people who are sex workers, so it’s not terribly rare for my being a prostitute to warrant simply a nod. But a lack of variety in the sex workers seen in the media can also lead to me being treated suddenly like a rare species: “Oh!” some well-meaning partygoer might say, waving a friend over. “This girl is…” — and her voice drops to a stage whisper — “a prostitute!” I sometimes feel like the novelty friend, the one invited so that the others have something to talk about. I’m generally asked to comment on trafficking (by which they almost always mean sex trafficking, to the detriment of any other kind). Maybe I get another few questions, like, “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done?”

It’s not long till I drop the ultimate bombshell: that I have a fiancé, Mike.

That’s when things really pick up, almost always starting with the incredulous question, “And he lets you do this kind of work?” After patiently explaining that, given that I am a woman in 2012, no one “lets” me do anything, I find myself often answering the same questions, over and over again, about my queerness, about my work, about his feelings on it. At first it really surprised me; was the idea of being a prostitute with a life partner really such a novelty?

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2 Responses to “Public Relations: My Experience as a Sex Worker in Love”

  1. tezzablauxsie Says:

    this is so amazing!

  2. tezzablauxsie Says:

    Reblogged this on tezzablauxsie and commented:
    this is so true and love it

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