I Am a Sex Worker AND a Human Being.

A guest submission by anonymous:

Pussy. Twat. Vagina. Cunt. Cum Dumpster. Receptacle. Clam. Fuckhole. Slit.

Those are some of the commonplace words used to describe my vagina on camera.

Some of the words are okay, and other freaks me out. My genitalia is not seafood. However, it is a cunt. Twat. Pussy. Hole. Those are some of the terms that I frequently use while performing on camera. I’m a sex worker. I’m a webcam performer. Webcam model.  Cam slut.  Cam Whore.  Adult entertainer.

Those are some of the terms that I, and others, commonly use to refer to this line of work.

This work, the sex work. Routine, ready?

5-10 minutes of make-up

10 minutes of hair

5 minutes of putting on high heels and panties (possibly 10-15 minutes for complicated lingerie)

2 minutes of calculating how much money I need to make that evening to meet my weekly personal goal

10 minutes of tweeting, social networking, and getting the word out. GUYS…I’M COMING ON! COME SEE THIS PUSSY IN ACTION! Tweet tweet blah blah skype tweet twat twitter twatter. I have a bill to pay. I have a textbook to purchase. My dog needs food. I want a new purse.  Rent is due.

Webcam modeling/performing/porning/whoring/whatever is my only source of income.  It is my job. I get ready to go to work. I have a somewhat regular schedule, I have clientele, I have “regulars,” I have merchandise to sell. I have a product to push. I had advertising to do. I have responsibilities. I pay taxes. I keep receipts.

I pay every single one of my bills, and then some, with this income. I live in an expensive apartment, and I am not frugal. I need vacations and sushi to be content. My family does not respect my work. My mother says it is “dirty money.” My friends, a mixed bag. Some are very supportive, some are disgusted, and a few have gotten into the business themselves. The disgusted ones are always the most fascinating. They never come right out with their disgust; it’s always covert.

“It’s great that YOU do THAT but I could NEVER show my vagina to the whole world. I don’t know, it just feels wrong.”

“Ha, well if I ever drop out of school, at least I can fall back on that!”

“Ew, do you have to SEE the guys who pay you? That sounds gross!”

Whatever.

I’m a sex worker. I put things in my vagina for money. Sometimes, I even put them in my ass. If I’m feeling REALLY frisky, I put things in both holes…AT ONCE! I can be your sub, your dom, your nasty slave bitch, your mistress, your sex educator. I can let you worship my feet, I can humiliate you. I can make you feel like you’re the most powerful man on earth. I can wear my panties all day long, and then ship them to your door in a ziplock baggie. I can dance for you. I can make custom videos for you, (insert name here).

I can do all of these things and more, for a price.

I am a sex worker, and last time I checked, I am also a human being. 

I have a family. I have friends. I have a pet. I have lovers. I have ex-lovers. I have loves. I have colleagues. I have hobbies. I have a fucking pulse.

I enjoy my job. I am blessed, lucky, entitled. Certain things in my life have fallen into place and have allowed me to be a sex worker in the cushy end of the hierarchy. Yeah, that hierarchy exists and it’s fucked up. More on that another day.

Regardless, in a lot of ways, I am lucky. Without sex work, I would be living a very different life. I would be drowning in student loans. I would be depressed. 

As with most jobs, there are down sides.

There are many men AND woman in this world that believe that I am worthless.  As a sex worker, I have been called:

Dirty. Diseased. Uneducated. Ignorant. BB. Filthy. Ugly. Fat. STD-Infested. Bitch. Old. Too chunky. Too skinny. Tramp. Dyke. Slag. Slut. Retarded. Cunt.

I have: No morals. Dead parents. A father who must hate me. A father who must have molested me. A hatred for men. Loose lips. A loose pussy. Loose morals. No morals. Weird tattoos. An ugly nose. A flat ass.

I am: Going to hell. Pathetic. Going to regret this. Never capable of doing any more than this. Deserving of rape. Worthless. An idiot. Not even worth being paid. A sinner.

I hear those words, those accusations, those dirty disgusting filthy things every week. Daily. Weekly. Monthly. Yearly. All too often. If you’re a sex worker, I bet you do too.

People hate me. Society wishes that I would disappear. Society assumes that I have sex with every single human that I come into contact with. They assume that I have herpes, crabs, chlamydia, HIV. They assume that I am a crack addict. There is nothing wrong with having an illness or an addiction. However, why should it be assumed that I have any of these things, merely based on my choice of occupation?

The feminists are the most perplexing; the type that tell me that I’m perpetuating hate against women, that I am the patriarchy. That I am brainwashed, I am coerced. I am doing the wrong thing with my pussy. Wait, isn’t is MY pussy though? The feminists are often VERY perplexing.

People get very angry with me. They send me random hateful tweets. I’ve had my name published on websites. I’ve had people threaten to expose my personal information. All because I’m a webcam performer. And yet…

The most fascinating piece of the puzzle…

Consistently, every week, I make a lot of money. I have thousands of viewers, and hundreds of tippers. Society wishes I would disappear, but SOMEONE is paying me to stick around. In fact, it seems that A LOT of people are paying me to stick around. They sent me gifts. They send me jewelry. Household items. Gift cards for food. Money on Christmas. Money on my birthday. Money to pay every single bill. I wager that they will continue to do so.

To be loved, adored, and admired. To be hated, resented, verbally degraded. Every day, every week. It’s quite the dichotomy.

I am a sex worker. I love my job, and I wish society would get off my fucking back about it.

Feminism, Dating, Dinners, Diamonds: Is He a Cheap Prick or a Feminist?

Imagine the scenario, if you can: You’re a heterosexual/bisexual woman on a first date with a man. So far, so good. You haven’t had to use the fake “I have an emergency, I have to go!” (aka dial-a-friend-tosavemefromthisnightmare) excuse. The dinner is coming to its end and the server places the check on the table, closest to your date. Your adorable date flips it open, glances it over quickly, and says “Okay so let’s split this, should we use card or cash?”

I have to confess, I practically gagged as I wrote that. C’mon ladies, even diehard feminists- what are your INITIAL reactions/thoughts to this man?

Okay, next scenario, if you can: You’re a heterosexual/bisexual woman on a first date with a man. So far, so good. You haven’t had to use the fake “I have an emergency, I have to go!” (aka dial-a-friend-tosavemefromthisnightmare) excuse. You’re finishing up your appetizer, and the date asks you to elaborate on your research/life/job/interests/whatever the hell people ask on a first date. You mention that you’re a sex worker/sex work researcher/feminist/don’t want kids/have tattoos/whatever it may be, and your adorable date says something prickish that insults your feminist ideologies (“all women want kids, your clock will start ticking”).

Again, I practically gagged when I wrote that. C’mon ladies- what are your INITIAL reactions/thoughts to this man?

Well, I’ve been in both scenarios. My reaction each time? He’s gone from adorable date to idiot monster, and I will never see him again.

Why? Well, in scenario 1, he’s diverting away from traditional gender role norms. Norms say that men pay (especially early on), and women do not. Men are the breadwinners, and women must be taken care of. Benevolent sexism 101.

In scenario 2, he’s conforming to traditional gender role norms. Women are supposed to be chaste, stay at home raising the family. We are supposed to have biological clocks that tick, as we sit around watching Lifetime TV and brushing our hair. Well, if that asshole thinks that I’d want that, then he can go to hell. I’m a feminist, mother fucker, and maybe my clock is broken!

So, do I want a man who conforms to traditional gender norms, or who strays away? Welcome to “Why Christina Is Single Part 1.”

I’ve been giving this topic a lot of thought lately. I’m a single self-proclaimed feminist who has interest in studying the sex industry. Okay, since I’m using the “F” word, I should explore what it means to be a feminist. I know that I’ve always abhorred traditional gender roles, but WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? And, do I really hate them, or do I only hate the ones that won’t benefit me? I expect a guy to pay on the first date. I expect some chivalry, or do I actually expect benevolent sexism? I also expect a guy to “think outside of the box.” My ex-boyfriend of many years (and still a good friend to me, somehow. God bless his patient soul!) HATED when I would joke about having a penis (I don’t actually have one). He would squirm when I would make proclamations about our future child’s yellow bedroom walls; fuck blue and pink!! Even better, I don’t ever want kids! Talk about squirming.

He was SO damn traditional and it drove me nuts! This was a big part of the reason that our relationship ultimately ended. However, he was also a gentleman and I loved this. Gentleman (in this context): noun; a man who gave me diamonds and took me to lots of nice restaurants. *For the record, he is/was also an all-around nice guy.

Are you starting to see my point? When is it benevolent sexism, and when is it just being a “nice guy?” As modern day feminists (?) what do we expect?

I’m lost. Thoughts?

For the record, I find this cartoon to be offensive. Or, at least, I think I do. I did at one point...but now I'm not so sure! God dammit, being a young woman in today's world is confusing. Being a feminist in today's world is even worse!

Bored Activist Needs A Life: Open to Suggestions

Yes…this blog still exists, and it appears that I am still alive. All within the last two months, I dropped out of the doctorate program that I had been in for almost two years, left an amazing practicum, applied to a PhD program thousands of miles away, and moved to South Florida. Things feel quite surreal right now, and if it weren’t for the fact that my dog vomited right into my hand earlier today, it may not seem real. The act of cleaning vomit has an interesting way of jolting one back to reality.

It’s no wonder that I have writer’s block right now.

For the most part, life is good. I never wake up before noon, I go to the beach or pool every day, and I live in one the gayest cities that I’ve EVER been to; I am surrounded by rainbow flags and palm trees. I’m ridiculously tanned, and have no idea what month it is. I work part time, and I finally have time to do some pleasure reading! You know what else? I’m getting sort of bored. Vacations are great, but all of a sudden, I’m living on vacation. I’m beginning to feel like moss growing on a rock (if moss were bright pink and covered in glitter). I went from one extreme to another; overworked doctoral student/therapist/research assistant/activist/crazy lady who drinks too much Red Bull to……………beach bum? 

Okay, so I need a happy medium. I need something to do…something to keep me from clawing my eyes out while I wait to hear from PhD programs. Something to do in the event that I don’t get into a program this year (ugh, don’t think about it…don’t think about it…distract, distract, DIVERSIONS!) This is the PERFECT time for me to get more involved in sex worker’s rights/activism in a “hands on” way. I’ve done a lot of reading, writing, teaching, lecturing, ranting, ranting, ranting on the topic. I want to do more. Now that I have the free time, I want to do something, but what!? Suggestions welcomed; that’s actually the main point of this self-absorbed article. I want ideas! I want advice! What can a bored sex worker activist with too much time on her hands who lives in South Florida do to help the sex work community? This much free time is a luxury, and I don’t want to just piss it away on lounging and hopping from one happy hour to the next.

All responses are welcome. However, constructive and helpful responses will be favored, versus the typical “You can go to hell in your free time” response.

I’ve signed on to volunteer with organizing the 2013 Desiree Alliance conference. That was the first suggestion that I got, and a fantastic one at that! So, what else?

Here’s another problem; there is NO sex work activism in South Florida. Or, if there is, I have not found it. There are no SWOP chapters; I’ve considered starting one, but if I get into the program of my choice, I’ll be moving out of South Florida in 6 months. Even if I were to stay, it seems that getting a network of people together would be very difficult. I’ve also played with the idea of starting some sort of support group for women in the industry, and not necessarily just women who want to exit. What about women who love their jobs, but feel isolated by the community, by societal stigma? What about women (and shit, what about men and trans individuals too!) who need resources such as condoms, STI testing, and tips on safe screening? I’ve located a ministry in Miami that supposedly “rescues” and “saves” sex workers, but do they offer any actual services, or do they just preach? Stay tuned for that answer. I am having coffee with the woman who runs the ministry next week. I plan to arrive with an open mind and a list of ideas, much like the ones above.

So, I’m open to suggestions. It’s nice to post in this old dusty blog again, even if it’s just an article filled with fluff and whining. I’m even open to suggestions for topics that people would like to see researched/written about.

Since we’re on the topic of writing, I have a 30-page undefended dissertation proposal on the topic of exotic dancers & rape myths. It’s basically a literature review of the topic, and a plan for a future study (which at this point, is obviously on hold). Perhaps I should do SOMETHING with that. Oh boy, scattered life fragments everywhere…suggestions welcomed. 

Diary of a Cam Model Enthusiast?

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