Without bad Facebook jokes…
Sex work: It’s just a job. Take out the glamorization, take out the shame; it’s a job. For some a career, for some a calling, for some a way to pay the rent or get some extra “fun money.”
There is power in it, there is meaning in it; yes, and there is also fear. Sex work taps into powerful stuff, and we need to respect that…
…but it’s a job, and we also need to respect that.
I truly wish George Takei had stopped to think that there is no other entertainment profession we assume people get into because of bad parenting in this day and age. No other service profession we feel only the “damaged” could do (as if people were brittle, solid vases to break and not clay to reshape). No other helping profession, with the possible exception of therapist, where we assume an abuse history cause-and-effect link.
Here’s the kicker: what do we do with this idea of the fallen woman, the desperate rent boy, the broken whore? We eroticize the very idea of them as damaged goods.
This culture is what’s broken around sexuality, not our profession. Sex work acts as a mirror, the mirror opposite our collective bed. And if we don’t like what we see when we get down to it we have only ourselves to blame.