I just finished reading Best Sex Writing 2008, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel – she has created a blog for it, which includes interviews with some of the writers. You can see my video review of the book on Live Girl Review. Aw hell, I’ve embedded the video at the end of this post to make your lives easier. But you should still check out Live Girl Review, because I’ve been working my ass off on it, plus it has an awesome new logo and better look to the site.
The last essay in the book is by Greta Christina, who among many many other things, has edited a book called Paying for It: A Guide by Sex Workers for Their Clients
Back in October, when I was contemplating Coming Out Day (October 11th for the calendar-inclined) but unable to get a timely post written on the subject, I was thinking about this exact sentiment. I’ll quote Greta’s piece, because her writing makes it both very clear and very brow-furrowing: “I don’t mean that [sex work is] bad. I don’t meant that it’s sinful or exploitative or un-feminist, or any of that. But it’s deeply, deeply weird.” This is the piece of the puzzle that I was overlooking those 2-plus years ago when I decided that it was not just essential, but a good idea to come out to my family.
I was very focused on the political and labor implications: sex work is work. sexworkisworkisworkiswork. It’s my life’s work, it’s my career.
These are the things I was obsessing on then. And they are still true now.
But the thing I glossed over, the thing that often gets glossed over by many many people, is that sex work is weird work. In many ways, sex workers are just like everyone else, with houses and families and all that stuff. But though many sex workers are part of the service industry in ways that are similar to waitressing or psychotherapy or (non-adult) massage – sex workers occupy a liminal space in the culture and the economy. And so help me, if anyone says that all work is like prostitution, I will scream.
4:54 pm
Having never walked a mile in the shoes of someone from the sex industry, it is with trepidation that I add this comment. But the very end of you post struck me — what we do (i.e., our jobs) has such a profound impact on who we are (both what we think of ourselves and what others think of us) — the liminality of sex work must create a challenge for developing an integrated narrative about identity — we all like to tell stories about who we are — I think that all of us struggle with explaining how our sexual identities fit in with that story. How do you connect the dots between the person that buys a bagel and cream cheese everyone morning to the same person letting loose with wild sexual abandon?
With all due respect to the problematic nature of what you do, I will say I for one totally appreciate it. When I see something like “The Bi Apple” — that seems to portray real people doing things they really enjoy — I actually ending up feeling less weird. I feel like “Wow maybe there are people out there that enjoy the same things I do. Maybe I am not such a freak.” That is a great feeling and maybe takes away some of the “weirdness” on your side.