The area I was in is a predominantly black and predominantly poor neighborhood. The man who threatened me with a gun was a young black man.

As a result, I have privileged guilt flaring up all over the goddamn place. Guilt that I live in a more affluent neighborhood. Guilt that I don’t spend more time organizing around race and class. Guilt that the reason we looked like such easy marks is because we were – because we obviously had markings of wealth that stood out in that area.

It’s not an area I’m going to be comfortable returning to. And I feel awful about that. Part of me knows that avoiding the corner where you were last threatened with a gun is perfectly reasonable. Part of me is shouting at myself for being racist and classist for avoiding the surrounding area. And part of me even feels guilty that it’s likely most people who are mugged in that neighborhood CAN’T avoid it – because they fucking live there. And that just makes me angrier.

I’m angry at the whole fucking system that creates violent neighborhoods. Violence and poverty are inextricably linked, and the institutional responses to that relationship have traditionally been MORE violence instead of LESS poverty. It’s an evil cycle.

It’s a cycle I wish that I weren’t a part of, but I am. My phone’s GPS contributed to increased police presence on a particular street. Just as the Diet Coke I drink contributes to the deaths of union organizers. We are all complicit in oppression.

But I am still deeply troubled by it. There’s nothing like being a privileged crime victim to make your head spin with intersectionality.

When I was giving my phone’s location to the police, my partner asked me if I would be ok if they asked me to ID the guy. My first reaction was “hell yeah!” I’m fairly confident I would recognize his face and his voice, and am weirdly kind of proud of that. But then I was reminded of the severity of penalties for crimes committed with a gun. And I thought about the Three Strikes Law. And my conscience was stumped.

I’m socialized to believe in the justice system, even with my fairly radical academic parents. I still have ingrained worries that if I wouldn’t do my part this dude would hurt someone with that gun and it would be my fault.

Not to mention I’m fucking pissed. There’s a part of me that WANTS this guy to suffer. There’s a part of me that is absolutely not fucking ready to forgive him no matter what pitiable mitigating circumstances he could possibly offer. This guy made someone I deeply love afraid for her safety, ruined her vacation, and cost her money she can’t afford to lose. I am NOT ok with that!

But I also don’t believe in victims being in charge of punishments. And if I had faith in our justice system, I probably wouldn’t be so quick to lay that responsibility on myself. But I don’t.

I feel like helping deliver a young black man to the prison industrial complex isn’t something I could comfortably live with. My trust in my memory doesn’t overcome everything I know about the unreliability of eyewitnesses. Nor does my anger supersede the long history of criminalizing black men. And it’s impossible to take this case out of that context.

So I honestly don’t know what I would do if I were called and asked to ID a suspect in this case. I’m hoping that I don’t have to find out.

I do know that I wouldn’t testify. I couldn’t handle it. I’m not a respectable victim, even as a white girl in Crenshaw. I couldn’t stand in court talking about going to a dungeon party full of sex workers. I couldn’t stand listening to someone make a case to dismiss my credibility, and it’d be an easy fucking target. And I am angry as fuck that I’ve even thought that far into the hypothetical future. And furious that it’s a factor in my thought process.

I’ve already been through the victim blaming process on this. Twice. I don’t need to encounter it again.

The politics of trauma are inescapable. And there’s no good way to engage with them when you’re in the middle of it. Nor is there an easy way to work through it.

The past three days have been something of a blur for me. It’s been hard to distinguish this larger anger from small frustrations. But it helps that I’m not alone. I feel like I’ve been bouncing between close friends who have been holding me together while my brain is flying in a million different directions.

Honestly, if anyone wants to help me feel really damn good about the world help Sydney out. It’s really not her fault she was on that street in the first place. Seeing the support to her only amplifies my optimism. Both of our communities have been coming together in support and solidarity in ways that keep me from totally losing it.

And that’s something to be positive about, politically and personally.

I have faith in the power of communities and solidarity above all else. If nothing else comes out of this fucking mess – at least that faith has been proven well placed once again.

The Worst New Years Resolutions – Tits And Sass – Responding to the split between the Village Voice and Backpage.com in December as well as the Senate resolution asking Backpage to eliminate their adult advertising section. Favorite quote of mine – re: Will Bourne’s article in the Village Voice announcing their split with Backpage

This article is a cowardly, misinformed, self-righteous, and poorly articulated jumble of ideas that will ultimately prove ineffective. Bourne illustrates his complete lack of understanding of either the sex industries or the “human trafficking” he claims to be addressing. Co-opting the title of a seminal feminist text about health and sexuality was only the beginning of bad decisions in this piece.

Commentary On The Commentary: Sex Work and the Disabled Client – xoJane – Responding to the media surrounding Madam Becky Adams and her organization Para Doxies, a service connecting disabled clients to sex workers. Focuses more on addressing the media and our assumptions about disabled people, sexuality, and sex work. Here’s what sums up my feelings in brevity, and most of my feelings around major media around sex work in general:

But I’m still troubled by much of the coverage of the project. While it seems to be “less bad” than most media on sex work, and I’m stoked to see “sex work” as a term being used on the regular, it’s still not great.

Sex Trafficking and the Super Bowl: Penalties of a Media Blitz – Role Reboot – This was published over a year ago, but is relevant giving the upcoming big game in a little over a week. Dismantling the myth that there is any correlation between “sex trafficking” and major athletic events.

I do feel compelled to point out that I did not choose the image connected however. I’ve already expressed my frustration with random shoes and legs being used to illustrate the sex industries. That was on the editors.

Dishonest, Damaging, Disgusting: Newsweek Calls YOU “The John Next Door” – Dr. Marty Klein

Melissa Farley in Scotland: Trivializing prostitution and trivializing violence against women – Elizabeth Wood

Newsweek Embraces Melissa Farley’s Unscrupulous Crusade – Charlotte Shane

Men who buy sex: a nasty group whose DNA should be on file – Laura Agustin

Some Thoug[h]ts on the Newsweek story on the new Farley “research” – Emi Koyama

Full Text of Complaint to American Psychology Association – Dr. Calum Bennachie

A Commentary on ‘Challenging Men’s Demand for Prostitution in Scotland’: A Research Report Based on Interviews with 110 Men who Bought Women in Prostitution, (Jan Macleod, Melissa Farley, Lynn Anderson, Jacqueline Golding, 2008) – Multiple authors

Opposition – Sex Workers, Allies, And You – A growing round up of organizations advocating against sex workers and their motivations, as well as criticisms against them

Unpacking the myth: “the average age of entry into prostitution is 13″ – Emi Koyama

Farley’s language about the sex industries is frequently hyperbolic and inaccurate. In a particularly memorable comparison of prostitution to slavery, she states:

Prostitution has its very own plantation system. While the women in street prostitution work the fields, call girls, escorts and massage parlor workers are the house ni****s of this system.

This is an appalling linguistic move to make in the name of fighting racism and class based oppression. She makes further manipulative and disturbing language decisions in her research of clients of sex workers. Her work concentrates on men who “buy sex” – which she finds to be astoundingly common. This is unsurprising as she defines a non-sex-buyer as “men who have not been to a strip club more than two times in the past year, have not purchased a lap dance, have not used pornography more than one time in the last month, and have not purchased phone sex or the services of a sex worker, escort, erotic masseuse, or prostitute.” Aside from the problem of characterizing clients as “buying sex” in the first place, which is a vast overgeneralization of transactions within the sex industries by any account, this definition of “buying sex” is far too broad to tell us anything conclusive about a population. It conflates many areas of the sex industries without distinction, which precludes any distinctions between different clients. Farley’s sensationalist and generalizing language discredits much of her work.

But the methodology behind her presentation is also flawed. A 2008 report examines Farley’s study on “Men’s Demand for Prostitution” and illustrates how her methods violate “fundamental principles of human research ethics” and concludes “the report is not of an acceptable academic standard.” It cites Farley’s underlying motivations and ideology as part of the problem, as well as a lack of understanding or engagement with other academic work on her subject. Farley does not disclose many details of her methodology as is standard academic practice. She notably does not include the very questions she bases her analysis on or any evidence that there was an ethical review of her methods prior to conducting her study.

Neither is their evidence that Farley understands the complexities of the industries she is researching. She extrapolates her data on specific populations (such as the city of Boston) to apply to much broader populations. This is particularly notable in the way she describes both “sex buyers” (as described above) as a distinct group – an inaccurate generalization she repeats when describing people with experience in the sex trades. As Emi Koyama points out regarding Farley’s 2011 study “xx” (which the Newsweek article was based on)

“the overwhelming majority” of the “prostitutes” in this study were streetwalkers, and almost two-thirds were recruited at sexually transmitted infection clinic. Other participants were found at HIV testing sites or addiction treatment facilities, or identified by the police. Thus, the study systematically excludes prostitutes who are less visible to public health and law enforcement officers (e.g. escorts), who are likely to be much less prone to violence.

In fact, concerns over Farley’s methods are so extensive that Dr. Calum Bennachie filed a complaint with the American Psychology Association asking that they rescind Farley’s membership. The full 115 page report can be read here.

These concerns with language and methodology have serious consequences regarding policy and practices. When policies or practices are based on inaccurate information, they have little to no hope of being effective. For example, if we believe that the average age of entry to prostitution is 13, we will enact strategies and social policies that target 13 year olds, and will not address the needs of older teenagers. The same logic applies when we conflate consensual transactional sex with coerced labor, sexual abuse and exploitation, or “sex trafficking.” We do not effectively address any of those issues.

If I have done nothing by now to convince readers to at least question Farley’s credibility, we may not be able to have a productive conversation. It suggests a fundamental difference regarding whose voices should be prioritized and what qualifies as expertise. I do not claim to be an expert on sex work or people with experience in the sex trades, but neither do I make sweeping generalizations about either (or try very hard not to – and will do my best to correct fuck ups I may make in this regard).

I will not dismiss or silence anyone for citing Farley or trusting her research, though it is sorely tempting. But I do insist on keeping her work in conversation with criticism of it, and ask that those quoting her research do the same.

I also reserve the right to cease engaging with people at any point. This should go without saying, but I am not obligated to carry on conversations with anyone who wants me to, especially over the internet. If we are discussing Farley and I stop responding – this and this may be partly informing my silence. Thank you for respecting my wishes to withdraw from our conversation.

Because Farley’s work has repeatedly come up in attempts to refute some of my own work, I have composed a short response for internet use. A form comment may not be the most polite or generous form of engagement, but I am rarely feeling polite or generous in this situation. Feel free to take and edit to suit your own needs!

“Hello,

I noticed that you are citing Melissa Farley’s research to support the point you are making. Consequently, it is hard for me to engage with your argument, as it is based on faulty information. I am interested in your perspective, and would like to discuss it further [this may be deleted when it is not actually the case], but I strongly disagree that Farley is a reliable source of information on the sex industries. I ask that you consider some of the criticisms, particularly regarding her methodology and language. Here is an elaboration of my position:

http://jessienicole.net/main/melissa-farley-jn

And here is a list of other works I recommend:

http://jessienicole.net/main/melissa-farley-links

Respectfully,
Jessie Nicole”

Works Cited:
Indoor Versus Outdoor Prostitution in Rhode Island – Melissa Farley

Dishonest, Damaging, Disgusting: Newsweek Calls YOU “The John Next Door” – Dr. Marty Klein

The Johns Next Door – Leslie Bennetts

Melissa Farley in Scotland: Trivializing prostitution and trivializing violence against women – Elizabeth Wood

Newsweek Embraces Melissa Farley’s Unscrupulous Crusade – Charlotte Shane

Men who buy sex: a nasty group whose DNA should be on file – Laura Agustin

Some Thoug[h]ts on the Newsweek story on the new Farley “research” – Emi Koyama

Full Text of Complaint to American Psychology Association – Dr. Calum Bennachie

A Commentary on ‘Challenging Men’s Demand for Prostitution in Scotland’: A Research Report Based on Interviews with 110 Men who Bought Women in Prostitution, (Jan Macleod, Melissa Farley, Lynn Anderson, Jacqueline Golding, 2008) – Multiple authors

Unpacking the myth: “the average age of entry into prostitution is 13″ – Emi Koyama

Mmmm Patriotism

But I flatly refuse to see Zero Dark Thirty.

My adamant refusal is an act of self care. I’m trying to limit my engagement with material I that I know in advance is going to make me upset. I feel strongly about torture, and know that I am particularly sensitive to cinematic representations of it. I think the damage Zero Dark Thirty is going to do to my mood and outlook is going to outweigh whatever benefits I would get from seeing it (more knowledgeable position on the movie, aesthetic appreciation, ect.). Given that, I understand my role in any conversations is automatically limited. But I still feel compelled to explain what upsets me in greater detail.

I believe that torture, especially state sponsored torture, is wrong. I don’t see room for negotiation on that point.

On New Years I made some snarky, and admittedly uninformed, comment about Zero Dark Thirty as “torture apologism” and a friend of mine who had recently seen it told me that it wasn’t apologism, torture was simply there in the story. But that’s not enough for me. I feel that any statement regarding torture that doesn’t include “it’s wrong” is sorely lacking. The refusal to take a position at all makes a statement in itself. It states that this is an issue that is open to interpretation. I firmly disagree.

I’ve done some reading since that conversation took place. And what I’ve read about the movie has only strengthened by resolve not to see it.

Bigelow and Boal have emphasized that their film is fiction, and not meant to be a documentary. But at the same time they blend the lines between fiction and history with real news clips and a title card stating that what they present is “based on first hand accounts.” This is not a film, if one can exist, that can be taken out of historical and political context. Avoiding direct engagement with those contexts undermines any claims to realism or truth Zero Dark Thirty tries to make about the events it portrays.

One element I find particularly disturbing is that at no point in the movie is the use of torture questioned. Apparently the only scene that comes close is a clip of Obama condemning the use of torture playing in the background while Jessica Chastain shakes her head. Besides being historically inaccurate, as the debate about torture was raging within the US government and American public, this exclusion means that torture is an intrinsically accepted practice within the world of the film. To me, this suggests that the film itself, regardless of intentions, makes an argument for the acceptance of torture through it’s exclusion of alternatives or even interrogation of its use.

In this context, concerns about torture are then reduced to its efficacy. Critics have pointed out that the film implies a connection between the use of torture and capture of Osama bin Laden, as well as challenged the veracity of that claim. Another major exclusion is the disproportionate amount of false information learned from torture. That exclusion makes the argument that torture can be an effective tool, and therefore useful to the government. But honestly, I don’t give a damn whether torture is effective or not. Even if it led to reliable information (which it doesn’t) my feelings would stay the same.

Sitting through a film sympathetic to, and largely informed by, the CIA would make me uncomfortable in just about any situation. But graphic torture with the responsibility of interpretation left to the viewer is more than I can handle. I don’t trust viewers, and I don’t think the government’s use of torture should be debatable.

There’s a part of me that wants to see Zero Dark Thirty. It’s the same part of me that led me to read Stieg Larson’s trilogy. It’s the part of me that values curiosity over emotional health. But in this case I’m going to resist the impulse.

EDITED TO ADD:
Just as I was in the middle of posting this I was pointed to Kathryn Bigelow’s response on the LA times to the controversy regarding torture in her film. She defends her decisions claiming that “confusing depiction with endorsement is the first step toward chilling any American artist’s ability and right to shine a light on dark deeds, especially when those deeds are cloaked in layers of secrecy and government obfuscation.” I think she has completely missed the point. The arguments, or at least most that I’ve read, are not arguing that she should NOT have depicted torture, but rather that she depicted torture BADLY. This is an important distinction, and I think her defensesiveness about depicting torture at all is obfuscating the issue and is unfairly dismissive of criticism of her movie.

There is no major progress that happens in a straight line^[1]. I suppose if we really consider histories nothing really does. And I suppose the very language of “progress” assumes a sort of linearity and end destination. But it’s what I have right now. I’m thinking about non-linear processes both in larger senses of social movements and my own personal history. Timelines are often too reductive and erase the complexities in which we live them.

For social justice – this means having serious conversations about compromise. We can’t avoid it. I think that if we as activists accept that it’s a reality we’ll be much more conscious of how, when, and what we already compromise in our work. And we can find ways to do so without harming or devaluing other communities or issues. At some point in our lives and work, we have to accept that we can’t work on everything at once. Not everything can be everyone’s highest priority. That can be painful to grapple with, or certainly has been for me. But trying to impose centralized goals or value systems doesn’t leave much room for coalitional work or solidarity with other communities that we might not fully agree with.

Social justice isn’t going to happen off of one giant collective to-do list. We don’t have a diagram for achieving all of our goals. Because there will never be a point where everyone in the movements we align ourselves with agrees on what the goals should be, let alone what the steps are. And that’s ok. I firmly believe in decentralized movements with a multiplicity of tactics, goals, and beliefs. But that dedication to non-linear and non-hierarchal organizing includes a lot of discomfort and a lot of uncertainty. It’s fucking hard.

For me personally, accepting non-linear progress in my life has mostly centered around examining my recovery from this latest depressive episode and continual management of my mental health. I knew from the beginning it was going to be perpetual work. I knew that there would be ups and downs, and that some days would be far harder than others. But it’s much harder to live than to understand theoretically. Bad days can feel like failures. And a bad couple of days can feel like an unstoppable regression. But it’s all part of the fucking process of living and living with mental and emotional struggles^[2]. Did I mention it’s fucking hard?

I know all of this rationally. But it’s a struggle for me to accept. I want to fit my life and our struggles into narratives. I want clear analysis and understanding to be enough. I want to have a map of where this is all going.

On good days I take comfort in the fact that we are open to wider possibilities than we would be if those constrictions were a reality. I can see opportunities for imagination and creativity for resistance and subversive actions. I feel good that my self-care by definition will be uniquely suited to my needs and desires. I am optimistic that while I’m working within the confines of a fucked up system and dysfunctional thought processes, I can do work to change those conditions a little bit for the better. And the future will bring new possibilities that are literally impossible to comprehend under our current structures of thought. Knowing that all my current planning and even thought processes will be totally irrelevant someday can fill me with hope and joy.

But some days it’s harder. Some days I don’t know how the fuck to even start addressing all the shit in the world. Some days social justice is a total bummer. We can’t even get through agendas at meetings. We’re working with little or no resources. And when we can’t even get along with each other (not airing personal shit – just happens to be true of every social movement like, ever). That’s not even starting on the internalized oppressions and harmful structures we recreate within our own movements.

And some days I can’t see how my life is going to change. I think about the prospect of being on medication for life and am overwhelmed. I look at my family history and see all the fucked up genes I would be passing on to my hypothetical children that I don’t even want. I get depressed about being depressed. And my only consolation is that I’m less depressed than I was. When I’m feeling cynical that isn’t much to hold on to.

None of this is new to my thinking either. Over one summer several years ago I thought I had figured out the secret to saving the world, but all I could remember was that it had something to do with circles.

I still don’t know what I meant by that.

So that’s where I’m at right now. I’m doing better than I was. I think movements for human rights / liberation / social justice / revolution have made things arguably better in a lot of situations than they were 50 years ago. I know that I’ve seen significant changes within my own lifetime. And I know that this will continue. I will have good days and bad days. Our movements will have ups and downs. We will all continue to succeed and fail in various cycles.

I just have to keep believing that while we’re collectively messy, we’re pushing in good directions.

1To be honest, I subscribe to the Doctor Who theory of non-linear time as well, though practically it doesn’t make much sense to apply to day-to-day situations.BACK

2I don’t even know the goddamn language for where my own experience fits. Mentally ill? Emotionally disordered? Neuroatypical? Crazybrained?BACK

So as most of you know I’ve been experimenting with various forms of media and ways to amplify voices of sex workers. With Anonymous Heels I’m working with videos of sex workers talking about their experiences (a project I’m still dedicated to – just went on hiatus for a few months, but 2013 will see it grow further… I have lots of ideas!) Anyway I’m far less interested in engaging with existing media outlets to amplify sex workers voices and activist perspectives than I am finding ways to create our own. Both are incredibly important. This is more about my own comfort and interests than value judgments about either tactic.

And with that – I’m starting a podcast to talk about sex work and sex work policies, media, activism, ect. working with Tits & Sass. Siouxsie Q recently started This American Whore which is aimed at humanizing sex workers through sharing their personal narratives and voices. I love that project, and I hope that this can be complimentary and talk about issues that affect the sex industries, review popular media, and share projects we’re working on across the country. I’ve already started putting together some reviews and interviews, and am really excited about where this is going.

BUT – I need your help. I don’t have a title. And that’s kind of important. Here are my ideas so far, and if you have another suggestion please please please share it. I hate working on titles. It’s really not my strong point. So I’m begging you all for some input.

THANK YOU!!!

1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before? Was paid as a writer, visited the house my dad owns, came out to my mom, cooked bacon, spent time in NYC, met new highest ranked government official, visited Google campus, presented at an academic conference, tried some new pills (ambien saved my sanity early in the summer), went apple picking, and some other stuff

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Closest thing I had from last year was “I think at least some groundwork has been laid for an improved day job. At least the conditions improved remarkably.” and in that case quite the opposite! New resolution this year: achieve modicum of economic stability.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Yup! A friend from grad school

4. Did anyone close to you die? Robyn Few

5. What countries did you visit? Stayed put in the USA. Again.

6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012? A job that I don’t hate doing every day that compensates with money

7. What date from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? July 22- August 5 TravelPalooza which was International AIDS Conference where I reconnected with some amazing friends and activists and then straight into FetCon where I did the same. Crazy ass summer.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Dragging myself out of my depressive episode

9. What was your biggest failure? Falling into it in the first place

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? (See above) and yes! Strep throat and the flu right after the other in early fall.

11. What was the best thing you bought? Plane tickets to Philly

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Kitty. She put up with my frantic text messages, showed the kind of personal bravery and honesty that continually inspires me, and lended her insight and compassion in some amazing ways.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Besides (literally) my own? Some of my activist colleagues. Struggles at national and international levels were heartbreakingly frustrating this year for me.

14. Where did most of your money go? Rent / travel / food

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Anonymous Heels

16. What song will always remind you of 2012? Somethin Bout A Truck – Kip Moore

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

1. Happier or sadder? Sadder, but happier than I was earlier in this year
2. Thinner or fatter? About the same I think.
3. Richer or poorer? Poorer – and significantly more precarious

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Dancing

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Being depressed and angry

20. How will you be spending Christmas? I was with my dad and my partner in Oregon spending time together and it was lovely

[question 21 has always been missing]

22. Did you fall in love in 2011? More all the time (still true!)

24. What was your favorite TV program? DOWNTON ABBEY

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Yup. I’ve also met considerably more people over the past few years so proportionately I still don’t hate a lot proportionally.

26. What was the best book you read? Regency romances in general

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Country music in general

28. What did you want and get? fucking published!

30. What was your favorite film of this year? Dear Reader Wizard People #HolidayTrad

31. What did you do on your birthday? I was just getting over a wicked case of the flu and met up with some friends and my partner at the HMS Bounty for drinks and hangs. Also my partner gave me my iPad which I’ve been basically glued to ever since.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Stronger meds earlier in the year probably

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012? I don’t wanna change my clothes or shower!!!

34. What kept you sane? Writing, friends, family, my partner

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Tay tay!

36. What political issue stirred you the most? Sex workers rights – pretty much a shoo in

37. Who did you miss? My partner. We spent most of the summer apart and it was brutal

38. Who was the best new person you met? Oh god, so many good people! So many new friends and allies and activists and colleagues.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012: Self care needs to be a changable and continuous practice with regular reevaluation.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

“Just close your eyes,
The sun is going down.
You’ll be alright.
No one can hurt you now.
Come morning light,
You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

Safe and Sound – Taylor Swift

He bought me make-up flowers after some stupid fight we had

My partner was the first person in my personal life I came out to. We had been dating for barely three months and had only recently started using that critical bf/gf label. We had been friends for over a year before that, and I had trusted him with secrets and intimacies during the course of our friendship in ways I rarely do. I soon realized that despite all my protestations to the contrary I found myself in an increasingly serious relationship.

I had a little practice coming out in different situations. The first time I breathed a word to anyone that I had experience in the sex industry was about six months prior, when I burst into a professor’s office in fit of tears and rage after discussing Catherine McKinnon in class. Months later I went to my first SWOP meeting, and as I tentatively announced I was an escort, the meeting continued uninterrupted without notice that I was experiencing a major life moment. My first experiences coming out as a sex worker thus far were focused on the political implications rather than the personal, which would set a trend for my future work.

But coming out to other sex workers is vastly different than to your new boyfriend who you think you might be falling in love with. We were on the beach at Lake Michigan one morning drinking champagne out of little red cans with straws when I melodramatically asked him if he had any dealbreakers for people he dated. Though he claimed not to, in my head I was challenging that assertion. I had no idea how he would react if I told him I had been a prostitute, and I was terrified.

Wearing his Game of Thrones rings next to my Claddagh, which I tragically lost sometime over the summer

I was scared that if he did leave me it would confirm my fears that I was irrevocably tainted and unloveable. I was also scared that if he left I would hate him, and feel justified in doing so. I imagined a likely scenario where I would become so scarred that I would never let anyone close to me again. And I was scared that he wouldn’t leave. I was scared that he would stay with me, but never forgive me for trapping him into a relationship with a whore. Or worse, he care about me regardless and I’d be forced to accept that he really was as wonderful as I thought. And if that happened, I was sure I’d lose my heart completely. None of these were comfortable options for me.

Some of that is informed by my relationship history. I’ve never been a very honest person, especially with people I dated. I lied to, cheated on, manipulated, spied on, and otherwise hurt the people in my love life. Some of it can probably be forgiven as youthful indiscretions or learning experiences. And in some cases I have the comfort of knowing that the people I was involved with (dating was rarely an accurate term) treated me just as badly, if not worse, as I treated them. The idea of being completely open and honest with a significant other was shamefully novel. But I had come to the conclusion that a relationship based on dishonesty, even dishonesty by omission, had no chance in hell of being good for either of us. It was a fairly simple and commonly accepted truism, though much harder to live up to in practice. And I had never even tried to before.

I’m not sure how long I agonized over the decision. But what gave me the strength to finally speak up was the unromantic thought that if the past I couldn’t change would break us up, I wanted to get it over with before I became even more emotionally invested. And I wanted to have grounds for righteous indignation. I didn’t choose an auspicious moment, because I don’t even know what an opportune time for this conversation would have looked like. I just decided one night that it was time to cowboy the fuck up. His plan for the evening had been to finish some grading then go to the gym. I figured that having time constraints would limit my chances for cowardice. I texted him and asked if he had some time to talk, fully aware of how ominous that message can be. Before making the walk two buildings down from my apartment to his, I quickly took a shot of Jameson that I had bought earlier that afternoon for the occasion. Then I poured several more shots into my portable coffee cup and carried it with me.

I have vividly clear memories of almost every part of that night except the conversation itself. I remember sitting on his bed while he was in the office chair at his desk. I remember the panic building when he turned his full attention to me, knowing whatever happening was serious. But then my memories get blocked. I have no idea what I said or how I said it. I remember being deliberately vague about the timeline, stating that I had never worked while we were together and that I had worked while I was in school. He told me that it didn’t change the way he felt about me. I told him to take some time to think about it and let the information fully digest. I told him that I would understand if it did change things between us. What I remember most clearly was when he sat down next to me, put his arm around me, and thanked me for telling him. I don’t even remember if that’s when I started crying, but I’m pretty sure that tears were shed. He chuckled at the whiskey in my mug while I struggled to get my head around whatever the hell had just happened. He also told me in no uncertain terms that he was going to skip the gym and spend the rest of the night with me so we could spend some time together. Since he still needed to finish his grading, and I needed some time alone I went back to my apartment. I felt delirious with shock. I called an old friend and told her the whole story, which necessitated coming out to her at the same time. I drank more whiskey. I cried more. And when my boyfriend came over I was joyfully tipsy and not entirely sure what I was feeling other than proud of myself and tentatively hopeful that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be ok.

That’s not the end of the story. If you’ve read the xoJane piece you already know that coming out is a long process, and rarely occurs as a singular event. It wasn’t until much later that he found out that while it was true that I quit escorting before we started dating, it was only about a week before. And that escorting while I was in school included the graduate program we had attended together. That discussion did not go as smoothly. And as I predicted, once the information had time to settle more he did in fact get upset about me being an escort. But instead of the week I thought it would take, it was more like a year, and largely due to this stupid fucking article in Wired. And instead of being disgusted, he was retroactively scared for my safety and the unhappiness I dealt with, and still occasionally do. We’ve had arguments about sex work that were mostly divorced from our personal lives and focused on political or academic concerns. But we’ve faced most of the challenges that have happened as a result of my sex work together as a team.

I said earlier that I am committed to honesty in my relationship with my partner. But I haven’t always lived up to that commitment, even regarding sex work. It’s caused some severe problems for us. We still have struggles related to sex work and sex work activism. But you know what? Our troubles have never been steeped in stigma against sex work. He has never loved me any less for anything I’ve done for money. What has caused problems between us has been the breaking of trust and commitments on my part*. Hell, I still have trouble opening up and telling the entire truth. It’s fucking hard.

Yeah, sometimes we make Star Wars pancakes together

I won’t declare a happy ending because our story is still very much developing. But I have NEVER regretted my decision to come out to my partner. In fact, I have never once regretted telling him about anything, only holding things back. We’re a couple that has our fair share of Serious Discussions, often at the IHOP down the street, but it’s far preferable to what happens when we don’t communicate. I never give blanket advice on coming out, even to partners or lovers or anyone really. It’s a serious decision that can have different consequences depending on someone’s situation. And I am NOT an expert on relationships.

But the night I initially came out to my partner changed our relationship, and my life, immeasurably for the better. It’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

And we still celebrate every Monthaversary. December will be our 41st

Jessie: So, hi, I am Jessie Nicole and we are here to discuss the movie American Courtesans

Vanessa: Yeah! SWOP watches movies!

Jessie: And with me, I have two of my friends from SWOP-LA

Vanessa: Hi, I’m Vanessa and I like the Sex Workers Outreach Project

Stacey: Hi, I’m Stacey Swimme. I co-founded the Sex Workers Outreach Project, and I like the Sex Workers Outreach Project too!

Jessie: It’s pretty cool. I think we can all agree on that! So, what in general, what are your thoughts about the movie?

Vanessa: I loved it. I think that one of the most important things that we’re fighting for with the outreach project, and with any sex worker rights organization, is for dialogue. It’s something that we need so badly. Especially now that there’s things like the anti-trafficking prop that just passed in California. It’s very clear that a dialogue about sex work – who’s doing it, how it works, how we feel about it as workers – that dialogue is sorely missing from the public conversation. I really think American Courtesan is trying to break into that dialogue in a way that’s really beautiful. It’s a humanizing project which is step one for all of us. I was thrilled to see it, and to see all those voices, and to see the real voices and the fact that they weren’t afraid to talk about trauma. I really admired it a lot.

Stacey: Yeah! Thanks, Vanessa! I agree with all of that. I enjoyed watching the film. I felt like it’s definitely a film that I would recommend to people if they really want to know more about the lives of a few sex workers. I felt like this film is really aiming to be sincere. The women in the film were really fearless in the way that they shared about their lives and the depth of what they shared about their lives. I felt like it was exciting to see this coming out in kind of the way that it’s made. They’re aiming to get it out really into the mainstream, into real theaters. It’s exciting to see this project progress and see where it goes

Jessie: I completely agree. One thing that really struck me was, what you were saying Stacey, the sincerity and courage that it took to even produce this, and let alone produce such a slick, high quality production. It was a really intimate look into these women’s lives and I really felt honored to be such an intimate part of that conversation. It was something that I felt I could really relate to as a sex worker. But also that other people would be able to relate to and see sex workers as more than just our job. I think that is an incredibly powerful message and I’m really happy that there’s another tool for getting that message out there. I’m very excited about this!

Vanessa: Absolutely.

Jessie: So, since we’re all politically active, where do we see American Courtesans fitting in to the struggle for sex workers rights? It’s not an overtly political film. But what do we think?

Vanessa: It’s so interesting, because I see it as overtly political. Simply because the project of humanizing sex workers, and showing women in the sex industry as triumphantly resilient, and also smart about their money and their lives, showing sex workers who are doing that is truly a political act – whether it’s calling for any particular policy change or not. So, the film isn’t calling for policy change directly, but by showing sex workers as women with goals and aspirations and talents and skills and heart and all of that – there is a sense in which there’s a political call happening. It’s like, if you’ve been ignoring this population of people – now you can’t! And that is a political moment regardless of whether it’s a very specific political agenda. For me, this is a political film even if they want to market it as a personal story. But I see it doing very important political work regardless. It can self identify as apolitical, but whatever!

Stacey: I think that the thing about our policies is that the explicit result of our policies are that our lives are shrouded in secret. We’ve become these mysterious black market characters in society that people either fear or feel sorry for. That’s kind of the only two ways that people know how to relate to us. So, because that’s what the policies do, any time that a sex worker is using their real face and going out there and telling their story they’re subverting the kind of behavior that the policies promote. It’s totally political. And we saw a person at the end of the screening questioning the production of the film and saying “Did you choose to just tell the stories of a few women who had a triumphant story? Where are all the women that this didn’t turn out so well for?” And it was offensive for one thing, because these women really told a lot of their stories, and it wasn’t always rosy. It was kind of insulting that he just dismissed part of who they were.

Vanessa: I think that’s really important, that people measure the healing wrong. A sex worker who seems ok is somebody for whom something really bad hasn’t happened to in his mind. And a sex worker who has had really terrible things happen to them, who has been raped, or who has been traumatized by law enforcement, who has been to prison, or whatever. A sex worker who has had a traumatic experience and still thinks that sex work is a good choice is either deluded or the trauma gets completely devalued in that situation. For this film to show women who have been through serious trauma and who have been able to heal and keep going was really important to me. And that person’s question did erase the trauma of the film. It was like “oh, well you guys seem ok, so where are all the people who are devastated by sex work?” Well, you know what? There’s plenty of those people. However, what we’re actually trying to do is not focus on that aspect since that’s already what people fear. But to take those stories and say, look a lot of people have a lot of trauma in this industry. However, there is still a great draw and it can be fulfilling and it can be heartfelt and it can be good work!

Jessie: Yeah! And there’s not one story or one narrative of the sex industries. We all sort of know that intuitively, but seeing the way he had this image of “This is what the sex industry looks like. This is what sex workers go through, and if you don’t show what I think sex work is about, then clearly you as a moviemaker, or even you as a sex worker are wrong.” is insulting. I love the power of storytelling and personal narratives. I think as an activist I’ve seen that be one of our most powerful tools in terms of changing minds, and even eventually changing policies. I think it really disrupts the image that people have of sex work and the way the sex industries work. I think he was a really clear example of how badly that disruption needed to happen. I agree with both of you. This may not have been a project that started as consciously a piece of political resistance. But, you know, I tend to think that if it isn’t political in itself, it can definitely be used, and I mean that in a very complimentary way.

Vanessa: And I want to offer a real respect and solidarity with Kristen DiAngelo and all of the other women who were involved in the project who were willing to come forward. Coming forward as a former worker is one thing, but coming forward as somebody who is currently working is extremely brave and a big risk for them in a way that I really respect. I think that if more of us were able to be out and in communities of other workers… that’s really what we’re trying to build. I love that part of the project.

Jessie: I also just want to say that it’s not just sex workers talking. It’s also clients and partners and family members. I thought that was brilliant, and I was so excited to see that as a part. You know, we all have families… “we all,” I mean we all as sex workers. The royal we, not just the three of us. And without clients this industry wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t exist. So, I was really really happy and I want to really commend the bravery, especially of the families, to be able to come out in support of their family members. I was really really touched to see that.

Stacey: I think that’s really a helpful point. Prop 35 just passed in California and I just put up a blog post this morning saying that for sex workers, more than ever, we need our family and friends and allies to be speaking out for us. Because this is really scary. There is a war on us, literally. A social war going on here. And the only thing that is going to reverse these trends is to really really humanize sex workers. And if they’re going to make that increasingly harder for us to do ourselves, we really need our friends and families and allies helping.

Vanessa: This is a really good tool. For those who aren’t familiar, American Courtesans is a documentary that is mostly centered on conversations between sex workers, and some interviews with family and with clients. And it’s a very intimate look at a few workers lives and experiences. I think it’s a really good tool for this humanizing project. Really, it inspired me to do some brainstorming about what other sorts of films or what other sorts of media I’d really love to see. It was like “Oh! If this is possible, let’s keep pushing away!” And I’m grateful for it for that reason as well. It inspired me to think we could make projects that have this level of production value, that have this level of conscientiousness. That doing more historical work, working with trans folks and more people of color and let’s talk about some male hustlers! I just got excited about all the possibilities of what kind of projects this could inspire. I can’t find another word. I’m just going to keep saying: inspire inspire inspire! That’s how I see this project, as a foundational piece of the bigger project to keep making films like this and to keep making media like this.

Jessie: That’s awesome. Because the more media and the more sex workers voices we have, the more powerful we’re all going to be!

All: Yay!

Jessie: Alright ladies, any final thoughts you want to have to wrap up this conversation?

Stacey: Well, my final thought is always that people should be thinking about December 17. December 17 is the International Day To End Violence Against Sex Workers. This will actually be the 10th annual. We did the first one back in 2003. Several cities are coming together in Los Angeles for the weekend of the 14-17. And we welcome all activists and allies who want to come down and have an opportunity to network and workshop with our colleagues and do some action for December 17. So, if you’re interested you should contact SWOP-Los Angeles. And our website is www.swoplosangeles.org.

Jessie: Yup! You can also find us on Twitter at @swopla