When I look back on my working days, I remember how deeply I felt that identity in my bones. Every morning, I would wake up and say to myself, “I am a prostitute. I made [X] dollars this week.” Whenever I left the house, walking down the street, riding a bus, I would look around and wonder if anyone could see it on me, if something about me revealed it to the world.
Read MoreThere’s more to money than just making it. When I first started stripping, making [gasp] $20 an hour I thought I would never be poor again. And when I started escorting, I thought charging $200/hour would be the solution to all of life’s problems. Life quickly taught me otherwise.
Read MoreWhen you’re forty, nobody is going to give two shits that you did sex work in your teens or twenties. Or your thirties. Or at all, ever. By the time you’re middle-aged, everyone has their story — they’ve struggled with addiction, they’ve gone bankrupt, they’ve had an abortion or been to jail or have a child who doesn’t speak to them...
Read MorePodcast of sex worker stories-- I tell the story of my first time!
Read MoreJerks happen. We can’t just ignore them and hope they go away. We have to be proactive. Here's a three-step plan to keep the bastards from getting you down.
Read MoreOne of slut-shaming’s most potent weapons is the rule: Sluts Don’t Get To Regret. Whether they wanted it, whether they chose it, whether they said yes to one thing, but that led to something else they didn’t want, sluts don’t get to wish things had gone otherwise. Sluts get what they deserve.
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