THE WOMAN INSIDE THE WHORE
As a stripper, I remember dancing on stage, smiling down at the customers as they stared back up at me from front row. Rarely, but every so often, one of them would cup his mouth with his hands and wag his tongue at me. I was always startled by the shameless vulgarity. I struggled to control the look of revulsion that I knew was spreading across my face. At the time, I couldn’t put into words what I found so offensive about the gesture except I wanted to say, “Did you know that I was a woman before I was a stripper?”
Similarly, I sometimes encountered a strange question as I walked through the clubs, “What do you do between shows?” It was always said with a sort of curious, innocent wonder. Between shows, I usually went to the gym, tanned, or got groceries and took them home if home was close enough. But I knew what they wanted to hear, so I always responded the same, “What do you think I do? I masturbate, of course!” (I’m not a woman, I’m a sex machine.)
Now that I’m recently single, I am astonished at how people misjudge me. I cannot even consider dating someone who wouldn’t be able to handle my intimacy work or the things I say online, for that matter. My screening process is simple: tell them I’m a sex worker and watch their reaction. You know, nine times out of ten, they think I’m easy. THAT’S their reaction! The other one percent ask for my business card. (I’m not ready to date yet anyway.)
A provider I follow on X recently said that she finds it difficult to date in this work because it’s hard to find a man who will treat her as good as some of her clients treat her. Let that sink in. The clients of sex workers, who are totally vilified and criminalized for seeing sex workers, are the ones who treat us better than the men we meet on the dating scene. Is it because men on the scene only see us as whores while our clients truly value us?
Because I’ve worked in the sex industry for over 25 years, I’ve had the opportunity to watch myself evolve as a woman in this work. Sex work has impacted how I see the world in every way. It has impacted how I relate to people, the way I react to life events, and it has even impacted the way I parent. Being an invisible woman (inside the whore) has enabled me to see something that I wouldn’t have been able to see.
What I see is this: It’s easy to discriminate against people we don’t understand. Rather than try to understand them, most of us simply view them as “other.” We ignore their humanity. We must or else we wouldn’t be able to pretend they don’t exist. This is why you see normally decent people saying that all the unvaccinated should be denied health care or that all racists should be put on an island and shot or that all people with penises should be shamed for their sexual nature. Meanwhile, the unvaccinated, the racists, the people with penises, and the whores are all people – real, actual people.
I’ve had periods, pregnancies, and perimenopause. I’ve dried my children’s tears, taught them values, and provided a roof over our heads. I have loved and lost. My heart has been broken many times and I’ve broken some hearts too. I have eyes to observe and a mind to assess. I’ve experienced tragedies and triumphs, like we all have. At my core, I am a woman. If it’s the whore you’re looking for, you’re searching for a fantasy. Best bring your wallet and your respect because this is one woman who doesn’t suffer fools.
But the moral of the story is NOT to say fuck you to people who discriminate, or who paint us with the brush of their personal fantasy. The moral of the story is that we all need to learn tolerance. We need to open our ears to listen, open our eyes to see (humanity), and open our minds to understand the “others” who dwell among us. Civilization depends upon it because division is tearing us apart.
The moral of the story is, have a heart. Or, even better, hug a whore. ;)
Love Annie xoxo