There’s been a blog post kicking about in my head for the last week or so. It stems back to when I hadn’t been working for very long and I was talking about my work with one of my friends, who was trying and struggling to understand my career choice. And she said, “Even if you quit tomorrow, you’ll always be an ex-hooker now.”
That thought really stuck with me over the years. There’s almost as dense a mythology about ex-prostitutes as there is about prostitutes – whether as a tragic history or a triumph over adversity. It’s rare for people to be so defined by what they’ve done in the past. No one thinks of being an ex-nurse or an ex-labourer as a particularly defining characteristic.
I kinda wanted to ruminate on that – on being always an ex-hooker, on the feeling that what is my past could still be considered relevant if someone decided to make it so and that if I was to do anything in the public eye that it would be brought to light. Because if there’s one thing the media loooooves, it’s a good sex-related scandal.
But then Maya Angelou died, and amongst the many tweeted tributes, this one from Annie Sprinkle stood out:
Condolences to all those who knew and loved #MayaAngelou, poet, singer, wise woman and former prostitute. Goddess bless.
— Annie Sprinkle (@AnnieSprinkle) May 29, 2014
It put into sharp relief how not talked about Angelou’s experience as a prostitute is, and that kinda turned my ruminations on their head. Here is a very public woman – poet laureate of the US, best buds with Oprah Winfrey and the Clintons – and the media at large do not talk about her sex work, or if they do, it’s the briefest side-note.
It’s not something she tried to hide at all, not something she was ashamed of – she wrote about it in her autobiographical novel and talked about it in interviews. It was there, spoken for all the world to hear. The media could have uniformly referred to her as “Maya Angelou – ex-prostitute and Poet Laureate”, they could have raised it every chance they had, as they do with some other former sex workers.
But it doesn’t fit in with one of the acceptable narratives of prostitution. Ex-prostitutes are supposed to be ashamed of their past. It should be hidden away and avoided, or renounced, overcome and put in a box.
There are a limited number of ways prostitution is discussed in our mainstream media.
A wretched end to a tragic life: Boy, does the media like to talk about prostitution when the prostitute in question is a murder victim – Mellory Manning, Jane Furlong, Arawa Bain. Even when the victim’s sex work didn’t have a thing to do with their murder, somehow it’s still vital that the public know about it (see Carmen Thomas, and then the Herald’s creepy voyeuristic photo gallery).
Adversity overcome: Prostitutes are allowed to make good, as long as their sex work is denounced and configured as an impediment to be overcome – “[Georgina] Beyer knows about doing it tough. She’s been on the streets, been a sex worker…”
Being “forced into it”: literally or figuratively; traffickers or drugs or financial desperation. Their stories are legion, apparently, but they are largely nameless – “She entered a string of violent relationships and resorted to prostitution”, “‘In Brazil, our greatest concern is linked to the increase in the exploitation of child prostitution,’ said Sister Gabriella Bottani, an Italian nun who is an organizer of the coalition involving 240 religious congregations from 79 countries.”
The high-class call girl – exposed!: Such as Heidi Fleiss and Dr Brooke Magnanti, whose stories are told breathlessly and with such colourful adjectives – “the scintillating memoirs of a prostitute commanding £300-an-hour prices”, “the high-octane glamour of Hollywood’s famous madam Heidi Fleiss…”
(I’m not minimising or negating any of the stories mainstream media tells. Every story of prostitution is an important one to tell, good or bad. But I do think it should be the workers and ex-workers ourselves telling their own stories, not the mainstream media constructing a story around us. Would Jane Furlong or Mellory Manning want their sex work to be central to their story? They’re not here to answer that – but, while I love talking about sex work, I consider that there’s a hell of a lot more to my story than that and I imagine they would too.)
An unashamed, phenomenal woman like Maya Angelou does not fit into any of these categories – a woman who spoke freely of her own history, a woman whose complex, exquisite history so deeply informed the words she gifted the world. And so her personal, self-defined story of prostitution is rarely spoken of, because it does not fit into an acceptable narrative of prostitution.
This brings home to me yet again how important it is to tell our own stories, to put our own narratives out there.