A team of medical students at the University of British Columbia have developed a panic button for street based workers in Vancouver. This could be awesome. I hope this helps workers who are left without any decent options for creating basic safety. I also have ambivalent feelings about our saviours, the non sex workers. The best safety for sex workers is when we work together in a setting under our own control. If this button saves lives and prevents violence, then fuck yeah. Just don’t forget that it is second best to sex worker self-determination and should never replace it.
Which is to say, it also makes me uncomfortable to see non sex workers get really excited about how smart and amazing other non sex workers are at saving us. This project may have enormously beneficial impacts for sex workers–if and only if–they implement all the suggestions made by street workers. I just want non sex workers to think twice about: Continue reading
I leave work around 5 on a steamy day in my favourite summer dress, hit the corner and as I try to cross, a guy in a silver car slows and makes friendly eye contact with me. With his hands he says “wanna get in?” I pause, confused for a second, then laugh, remembering where … Continue reading
So SexGeek invited me to be a part of a blogHop where we do a self interview and then link to other writers–who then themselves do the interview and link to other writers and so on. The interview is designed for fiction novelists (and it’s kind of boring) so i’ve adapted it. What is … Continue reading
“Lips like Sugar, Women For Men, 28, downtown, Outcalls only”
1. I prefer to work in the downtown core because I want to bike to my client’s tiny overpriced condos. I love getting on my bike with my handbag in my basket, red dress, hair fresh from the shower, lips glossy and pedaling downtown to see a regular. I love the surprise in every new call, I love working for cash and sometimes I enjoy the sex too. I love the power I have over their bodies and their joy. The money is spectacular and fast. I squeeze in appointments between my day job, friend’s house parties, my therapist, dates, brunches and then a one-hour appointment with a chef named Rob who’s actually done in 15 minutes. We chat in his kitchen about the history of salt and restaurant life while I wait for my cab. Continue reading