Turning Heads, Hearts, and Tricks: Hookers as Healers
In honor of #D17 - International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers - Please read more about this day here and why we honor those who have been lost due to the criminalization and stigmatization of sex work. I wrote this piece for them. Originally I published it on December 17th on my sex work facing blog. To continue to de-stigmatize sex work, I feel its even more important to publish this piece on my ‘above ground’ blog.
Below are 17 reasons I have found sex work to be healing. I welcome you to consider how it feels in your body as you read this. Where you hold tension, where you soften, and how you feel after reading.
I am lucky to live in a bit of a bubble when it comes to heartfelt, raw and nuanced conversations about sex work. Much of my fellow somatic sex educators, sexological bodywork professionals, sex workers, kinksters and others, understand the value and inherent healing nature of this work. Many of us live and speak to the complexities of working as criminals; the hard feelings of being shamed by friends and family; the isolation of a profession kept so underground; the joy of our shamelessness; the humor in our shared intel on our clients; the fuckery of a world so afraid of pleasure, and much more. Many of us have learned to walk high in heels despite it costing us our own reputation, families, friends, or partners.
Sex work is healing for these reasons alone. And, when you build a pleasure-based business, you are working in direct opposition to a world that systematically denies and shames one’s own pleasure, desire, and truth. I wanted to speak to the complex and nuanced benefits of a pleasure-centered business, and the ways being a sex worker has both challenged and gifted me unparalleled liberation and growth.
To be clear, I am coming from a privileged place: I am a white, cis woman, 'traditionally pretty’, thin, “indoor worker”. I have a website and a college degree. This is just one window into a dynamic and multifaceted profession and by no means every provider’s experience. My family and friends know what I do and most are supportive, or at least they are quiet about the parts they disapprove of. I don’t think sex work is for everyone and this piece is by no way meant to sell this profession. You have to be pretty fierce to work a job that is systematically denigrated, has no guarantee for your safety, and puts your physical body on the line in a world plagued by sexism, racism, and where patriarchy rules high. Good boundaries aren’t enough when the law strips us of tools to keep us safe, forces us into unsafe working conditions, or keeps us from reporting otherwise criminal acts. I have been lucky to have had a mostly positive experience as a sex worker, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t faced the true powerlessness and despair that comes when you realize your body is not protected by the state and your choice to do what you will with your own body is constantly scrutinized by loved ones and strangers alike.
The power to find healing within this work, as both practitioner and client, is still possible, maybe even because of the less than favorable work conditions. Perhaps because accessing our own pleasure, desire, and truth is our superpower. Sex work requires a lot of skills that are often unrecognized or undervalued in our society. My intention here is to speak to some of the less-heard of gems, skills, and teachings I have received over the last seven years as a sensual dominatrix, full service provider, and erotic masseuse.
Sex work has taught me how to notice and communicate my boundaries, both in my work and in my personal life. I am in constant communication with myself: my body, mind, heart and spirit to see what I want and when I want it. I have to communicate this to my clients in order to keep showing up - I’d probably have burned out a long time ago without setting clear boundaries. I’ve also learned about my boundaries when I crossed them myself or had them crossed by someone else. Mostly, I have learned the gift of being respected when I do choose to communicate my boundaries - this is the majority of my experience with my clients. For the most part, my clients are respectful, and in fact, more respectful than in any other job I’ve had - for if they want to see me or any other provider again, they will respect said boundaries
I have learned my worth is not dependent on pleasing others. I can say no and still be respected, desired, and paid. This has led to a world of self-actualization, self-determination, and self-respect. I have also learned that closeness and intimacy is often the byproduct of communicating boundaries. And people pleasing is not pleasureful!
Sex work can be a beautiful experience in liminal space, a way that time and space can collapse into the present and magic can happen. It is often a dance of improvisation and a chance where my creativity can unfold. I have experienced things come out of my mouth or body I didn’t know were possible. This has carried over into all aspects of my life.
Sex work has taught me about energy work, calling in and manifesting - honing my inner witch and seeing how my insides shape my outsides. For instance, the days I worry about money or if I’ll have work or not, I don’t get requests for bookings. But the moment I surrender to the possibility of being taken care of, or having just what I need, and being ready to receive it, calls start coming in, and voila! This is similar to the power of attraction, and I’ve learned that who I am and what I project is what I receive in return. Sex work demonstrates this to me again and again as I advertise and as I communicate my desires, I receive them back.
Sex work has taught me to take care of myself in a very visceral way. It is a job that requires my full attention, presence and body, thus if I haven’t cared for my body, mind or spirit, it will show. I have learned to make good rest/sleep, stretching, exercise, meditation, emotional support, nutrition, and spiritual practice a large part of my daily care. In fact, I would guess part of what clients are attracted to is the investment in my own care.
Sex work asks me to confront and heal my own pleasure and sexuality. Each time I engage with a client I get the opportunity to feel into my own desires, and learn what I like and don’t like. I have since been able to access parts of myself and my sexuality I didn't know were possible. I have learned to take pleasure as well as give it, a huge contradiction to my care-taking nature. I have learned that my clients actually prefer it when I am fully enjoying myself and not performing pleasure - this took years of undoing all I learned as a socialized female to please men. Centering my pleasure while still under a contracted relationship with my clients to see they’re pleasure needs are filled, is an ever-evolving dance of micro adjustments, communication, and surrender.
Sex work has allowed me to lift huge amounts of shame and secrecy. I don’t feel afraid of being sexy or having so-called ‘weird’ kinks. I feel fully validated in my eroticism because my job asks that I hold space for each person’s most shameful secrets. For example, the first time I had a client request to be diapered and nursed like an infant, I felt seen in my own age play fantasies and received so much joy from giving him the opportunity to play out an often taboo desire.
Sex work is healing my relationships to cis men. I have learned to hold compassion for the wealthy white cis men who often are the ones who book me. At times when I have felt anger or resentment towards men, I have been able to find peace in seeing the full humanity of some of my clients. Those who have shared their tears, their traumas, their fears, all have helped to soften my heart.
Sex work is healing my relationship to cis women. Before becoming a sex worker, I was intimidated by women who showed their sexual prowess, or weren’t afraid to linger a little longer with their eye contact, or accentuate their bodies with revealing clothing. I secretly judged these women and in my mind, accused them of being slutty or loose. My own internalized sexism, my fear and socialized conditioning to hate on feminine energy distanced me from even people I loved and admired. I have since become the woman I judged, and now, as often as I can, celebrate the femmes, non-binary, and trans folks who aren’t afraid to show themselves authentically.
Sex work has taught me to value myself. Having to put a dollar amount on my services has taught me to respect my energy and time. I have learned to say no if I do not feel valued.
Sex work has brought me deeply into my body. It is probably the most physical job I’ve ever had (besides working at a pre-school). I am constantly finding new angles, positions, ways to use my body with other bodies, breathing exercises, sounds, and ways of touching that are different and exciting. And even in moments when I notice myself disassociating or ‘leaving my body’, I do so with awareness, which has led to this happening less and less in both my professional and personal relationships.
Sex work has taught me how to listen. Deeply. Beyond what someone is saying. My work asks me to listen with my energetic, physical and spiritual body. Because so many of us have had to hide our feelings about sex, our words don’t often match what our bodies have to say. So, I’ve learned to listen between words: to the twitching of thumbs, avoidance of eye contact, inability to receive, shallow breathing, disassociation and numbness…all of this and more as ways to approach someone gently, meeting them where they are, and supporting their whole system.
Sex work has taught me how to create a culture of care and nurturance. As providers we can’t rely on systems and institutions to support us, so guess what? We learn to do it for ourselves and most importantly, for each other. Sex workers show up for each other more than any other folks I know. They are there when you need them and often are the biggest givers when it comes to mutual aid, tipping, and resource sharing.
Sex work has taught me humility. I have seen grown ass men release tears and secrets they have never told anyone. I have seen scars from wounds no one should ever have to endure. I have seen every body shape, hair, pimple, part, and secretion imaginable. I have learned to accept and care for each person and myself in all of our imperfections, wounds, and ailments.
Sex work has taught me how to read people. To become less attached to what people say and more attuned to how they treat you and what they do. You learn quickly who is a time waster and who is worth investing in, because they have invested in you. Clients who text me “Hey” or “Are you available now?” are not investing time or energy into me, so I do not invest back. This has helped me to find true friendships, lasting relationships, and trusting people in my life.
Sex work has taught me about survival. How to use what I’ve got: my body, my compassion, kindness, vulnerability, strength, and beauty. How to leverage what I do have as opposed to what I don’t and to count my blessings every day.
Sex work has taught me the healing is in the wounding. As a sexual assault survivor, I have experienced the deep terror that comes when even considering having sex with someone else. In my job I get to negotiate my boundaries as specifically as I like. I get to act out scenes that reframe traumatic memories (really I could write a whole book about these moments). I have learned to access my own choice and voice and while it's not always there, I have much more awareness than before. I have tried all of the therapies, modalities, and coping skills possible to face the fear and all of that comes with it. But every time I open the door to a new client I get a chance to re-introduce my body to a sense of safe-enough. Sex work is somewhat of a gentle masochist for survivors; sometimes we play out old patterns and get hurt, but many of us are facing the wounding with choice and when possible, pleasure. This has given me the confidence and skills to face my trauma in all aspects of my life.
Once upon a time, prostitutes were considered sacred, and while still perhaps a luxury, women and men were solicited for our healing prowess in temples and rituals as acts of worship. This was a time when sex work was revered, and as a society we did not fear the power of pleasure, sensuality and eros. There are times in my work when I can feel this lineage in the space between me and my client. I can sense the reverence for one another, as strangers, yet as human beings deeply connecting, if only for that moment, seeing each other fully. This is perhaps my most treasured benefit of being a sex worker: to be seen and to see fully. These are the gifts I take with me in the rest of the world, and I hope continue to grow both inside and outside of the sex industry.