CatsMTL

The Virgin and the Whore: Workers In Struggle Against Labor Invisibility

The Virgin and the Whore: Workers In Struggle Against Labor Invisibility

Interview with Leopoldina Fortunati

By Adore Goldman and Melina May

Paint by Zero

Leopoldina Fortunati is a workerist1 activist, feminist-Marxist, and sociologist. In the 70s, she was actively involved in the groups Potere Operaio and later Lotta Feminista in Italy. Active in the International Wages for Housework Campaign, she wrote the book The Arcane of Reproduction: Housework, Prostitution, Labor and Capital2 . In this text, Fortunati works with Marxist concepts to show how the reproduction of labor power is structured within the family, as well as outside of it, through sex work. We wanted to ask Fortunati about her analysis of sex work in The Arcane of Reproduction and its relevance to current struggles. Here is what she had to say.

A&M: In The Arcane of Reproduction, you show how the domestic labor of housewives within the capitalist family creates surplus value by reproducing labor power. Indeed, cleaning, washing, caring for children, cooking – all this unpaid labor provided to the worker and to future workers – is appropriated by Capital. Thus, the capitalist saves on the reproduction of their labor power. Women, therefore, find themselves both subject to the capitalist and dependent on men’s wages to survive. Of course, this model has become more complex with women entering the labor market and the creation of social services, but the majority of social reproductive labor is still performed by women, and work within the family remains essential to the reproduction of the labor force.

 

In your analysis, what is the role of prostitution in the process of reproduction, and how does it relate to the unpaid sex work within the capitalist family? Are there historical links between the struggle of sex workers and the struggle for wages for housework?

Leopoldina: To begin with, I have always said that prostitution has a function on a productive, social, and political level. On a productive level because it is the same process that exists in households. The only thing that changes is the payment, but a payment for which women pay the high cost of social contempt.

The entire history of monetization predates capitalism by several centuries, back to the Roman Empire and even Ancient Greece. Prostitution arises with monetization. A friend of mine in Washington is currently researching this history. In their research, it’s clear that this process, for the first time, allowed women to build a dowry. Because monetization put the marriage market in crisis, it was [initially] adolescent women who were about to marry who prostituted themselves for a period of time in temples to earn money. 

If we return to capitalism, there has always been great pride among the working class regarding the money earned in factories. It was money earned through blood and sweat. It was considered a sin for women to do sex work, to be proud of the money they earned. So, we understand that even if the material productive process of organizing domestic labor and the process of prostitution is exactly the same, there is this small detail that acts as a key to pit women against each other. It is a monetization that has always been used against the lack of monetization of domestic work. Of course, on the political and social levels, the two spheres, while identical, are set up to be played against each other.

For me, it was really clear when we started feminist struggles that the first fight to undertake was to be united because unity among women is fundamental. If we accept being divided, if we accept having these two spheres in opposition, we will never achieve anything. I must say that in the early 70s, the need to restore unity in the women’s struggle, to not accept being pitted against each other, was very clear, and there was a tremendous struggle during those years. For example, prostitutes in France occupied a church to protest the living conditions they were forced to endure 3. In my region, [Padua, Italy], there was a network of prostitutes’ committees fighting for independence, for autonomy in managing their bodies and their money, that is, to destroy the figure of the pimp. So, we always fought together. We were in the same mobilizations, meaning they even came to our mobilizations, those of the committee [for wages for housework], etc.

It has been different for feminist movements in general. Feminist movements have always had a lot of problems, in the same way that they now have problems with trans people – particularly trans women. It’s terrible. There have always been problems in the political vision of feminist movements in general because they thought that their struggle was different, and that naturally led to nothing. Simply to the weakening of each other’s struggles.

In our networks, we were fully aware of the necessity of this unity of struggles and of understanding how to organize a political program that united us. For example, the struggle for abortion rights was something we all had in common, as well as the struggle for the right to contraception, the struggle for the right to decide our sexuality, and the struggle for wages for housework.

The struggle for wages for domestic work was important, even for sex workers, because it is important for women to have money at home. Otherwise, they are always in competition downward, because if there is nothing [for the sexual labor done at home], naturally, even when you decide to do sex work, the prices are low. Whereas, if there is money, you have more possibilities to negotiate.

A&M: Among your observations, you explain “the apparent antithesis between productive labor and reproductive labor.” 4 In this system, Capital presents reproductive work (both sexual and social) as a natural force: the reproduction of male labor power is framed as a personal service rather than employment. You write: “[…] women’s struggles have faced greater difficulty in exposing the mechanisms of exploitation, precisely because of this specific complexity of women’s relationship with capital.”5 Unlike paid labor, where the worker directly receives wages from Capital, the housewife exchanges her reproductive labor with Capital through the intermediary of the worker. This creates the isolation of housewives and, consequently, an additional challenge in organizing with others who perform the same work.

Similarly, in the sex industry, many of us work alone, isolated from our colleagues, and when we do have some semblance of a workplace, the criminalization and surveillance of it make organizing particularly difficult.

Moreover, nowadays, technologies play a predominant role within our households, social services, and our sexualities. As you write:

 

The power of men as a social group has been reassembled through these technologies, which function as tools of reproductive labor, enabling the direct penetration of capital into the immaterial spheres of individual reproduction.

 

For sex workers, technology has become indispensable: a significant portion of the work has moved online, through the use of social media, advertising platforms, or erotic content sales platforms like OnlyFans.

In your research, you explore, among other things, the impacts of technology on sexualities. How do these technologies mediate gender relations, particularly through the use of the Internet and other information technologies? What parallels can you draw between the organizational challenges faced by housewives and those encountered by sex workers? How can these challenges be overcome?

Leopoldina: Working in isolation is increasingly the norm. It’s either the brothel, like in the factory, or the profession, which resembles the condition of housewives, meaning each of us works at home or on the streets. But alone!

It’s clear that digital technologies have a significant impact on women: they push them backward in terms of communication. We’ve regressed after the advent of computers and the Internet. Men are still more knowledgeable than us because computers belong to their tradition.

A second factor is the terrible social isolation caused by all these technologies, especially in the home, where it has worsened. There are many families who sit around a table to eat, and each person is on their mobile phone. They are present and absent at the same time.

Work platforms have modernized the role of pimps. They are the [new] pimps. They are the ones profiting from women’s labor. They have modernized it through technology, but it’s the same role. They take the money, and since there is intense isolation, there’s no longer the physical security that pimps used to guarantee in some way. This marks a shift in the organization of sex work. We’ve gone from the division of labor in sex-factories to isolation. Now, it’s much harder to organize and act collectively because we don’t know where to find one another. On the other hand, we are controlled by these platforms. At the same time, if they were shut down, many would be impacted because they depend on them; these platforms hold significant power over the control and management of sex work.

At the same time, there is a sort of normalization of sex work because it is more accepted through technology and is treated differently, culturally and socially, within civil society. This issue needs to be studied seriously because there are academic articles that address these technologies but fail to understand the political significance of what is happening. How do you get in touch? How much money does the platform keep, and how much does it give you? In other words, it’s about studying the details of the contract.

A: It seems to me that there’s also something interesting regarding who works for these platforms, especially those who are directly employed, likely mostly male programmers. In comparison, we earn our income through the platform, which takes a share of that money, but we have no labor law protections.

Leopoldina: So, there is a lot more social isolation because a significant part of sex work has become immaterial and online. Massages and a few other activities continue. We need to understand the proportion of workers engaged in online versus offline work, as I don’t know, but I get the impression that many young people prefer online work because there’s no physical contact: it’s simply a narrative they create in front of the camera.

M: Yes, even when you do in-person work, you’ll have a whole online job to do to promote your services, then feeding your escort persona by doing social media, etc.

Leopoldina: And then there’s the idea that you, you’re free, you can do it whenever you want, whenever you have free time. Whereas [in-person] sex work has specific hours, it’s in the evening when people aren’t working or during times when people are on their work break.

There is also a lot of unpaid digital sex work. It’s built into the physiology of the internet. And many people don’t know the difference between activity and work; they think it’s a matter of personal expression. Above all, there’s a lot of confusion among young people, who do a lot of unpaid sex work, thereby creating massive competition.

And another important thing is that many states are shifting to the right. The right is about God, family, and social order. For example, there have already been terrible signs regarding abortion in the United States, but also everywhere else. There’s a step backward in this area, and I expect it will also impact sex work. That’s why we need to be even more united, all of us in the same political program, in the same struggle, etc. Because otherwise, we risk being really really weak.

A&M: In our workplaces, it is common to have colleagues who hold salaried positions in social services, such as teaching and healthcare. For many of us, sex work serves as a supplementary job to another that doesn’t pay well enough. The widespread lack of recognition for reproductive labor, whether it is performed at home, in massage parlors, or in hospitals, weakens the most marginalized populations and exposes those who perform it to exhaustion and various forms of violence.

 

In your opinion, how does the fight for wages for housework represent an important and necessary point of convergence today to unite women in struggle?

Leopoldina: This goal is fundamental, even for sex workers, because otherwise, they face competition. That’s why, afterwards,  there’s a general weakness among women everywhere, whether in sex work or in jobs outside the home. We are always in the lowest-paid, most precarious professions, and so on. Naturally, who is the ideal person to accept crumbs instead of real money?

And so the issue is this: if someone organizes something, others must support them. That is, if you organize political initiatives, for example in front of massage parlors, we need to come and support you, and you need to support us, for instance, if we organize a women’s strike. In this way, the struggles of one become the struggles of the other, that they are united with each other politically. And gradually, they must become part of the political program of the network at the international level.

A&M: It’s a way to maintain autonomous struggles while bringing them together.

Leopoldina: It’s very important for each group to undertake their own struggles, but what’s equally important is that these struggles are part of the same program and that others support them.

Glossary:

Workerism: Workerism is an Italian Marxist current, active mainly in the 60s and 70s. This tendency advocates for workers’ autonomy from political parties and trade unions, prioritizing instead the organization of workers’ committees within factories.

Labor power: Labor power is the commodity that a worker sells to the capitalist, the only one they possess. It is their physical capacity to work. Labor power is a unique commodity because it is the only one capable of creating value. 

Surplus value: In the Marxist tradition, surplus value is the value created by a worker that the capitalist appropriates. For example, in an 8-hour workday, a worker may produce a value equivalent to their wage during the first 4 hours, while the remaining 4 hours generate surplus value, which the capitalist pockets. Marxist feminists have argued that domestic labor and sex work, by reproducing the commodity “labor power,” are also sources of surplus value, as they are essential to the functioning of the capitalist system.

Capital, capitalist: Capital refers to an accumulation of money that generates more money. The capitalist is an individual or entity that owns the means of production and employs workers to generate surplus value. 

Reproductive labor: Refers to all activities and services that serve to reproduce human beings as well as “labor power,” such as childcare, domestic work, sex work, and elder care, whether this work is paid or unpaid.

Monetization: The process by which money – in the era of gold and silver – is introduced as a means of paying for a commodity.

1. For all underlined words, please refer to the glossary at the end of the text to better understand the Marxist concepts. ↩

2.  Leopoldina Fortunati. (1995). The Arcane of Reproduction: Housework, Prostitution, Labor and Capital. Autonomedia ↩

3. She makes reference here to the occupation of the Saint-Nizier church by the sex workers of Lyon in 1975. To learn more: Lilian Mathieu. (1999). “Une mobilisation improbable: l’occupation de l’Église Saint-Nizier”, Revue française de sociologie, vol. 40, no.3, p.475-483. in Luttes XXX, Inspirations du mouvement des travailleuses du sexe, 2011, Les Éditions du remue-ménage. ↩

4. Leopoldina Fortunati. (2022). Production et reproduction: l’apparente antithèse du mode de production capitaliste, Revue Ouvrage ↩

5. Ibid.↩

6. Leopoldina Fortunati. (2023). Les femmes et la communication numérique: où en sommes-nous?, Revue Ouvrage ↩

CatsMTL

Explore Bibliotherapy

Explore bibliotherapy: Understanding therapy through books

By Erika
Translated by Adore Goldman

Bibliotherapy, or therapy through books, is a therapeutic approach that uses reading to help individuals in their journey through various psychological, emotional, and/or personal difficulties.1 This method aims to initiate an internal process through directed reading, allowing the readers to find resonance in the stories and better understand their own experiences.2 It seeks to fill a gap by creating an echo between the text and personal lived experiences. According to Marcel Proust, bibliotherapy is a “curative discipline,” capable of stimulating psychic and emotional vitality, thus suggesting its potential to awaken inner resources in readers.3

In this sense, reading becomes a regenerative force and an essential aid in restoring psychic and emotional vitality.4 For some people, reading is primarily an intimate moment, a tête-à-tête with the book and with oneself.5

Reading also helps overcome difficulties, with a long list of benefits. Reading meets a variety of needs, whether they be for repair, qualification, self-affirmation, confirmation, glorification, projection into the future or past, sublimation, exploration, identification, education, disidentification, depersonalization, and more.6

Why bibliotherapy?
The reasons and goals of the approach

The initiative of bibliotherapy, specifically by and for SWers, takes on its full meaning within the context of SWAC’s annual magazine. The books and (auto)biographical references offered aim to foster a sense of community and reduce the loneliness SWers may experience, whether caused by geographical or psychological isolation. Thus, this bibliotherapy not only addresses readers’ individual issues, but also serves as community cohesion.

The books proposed will be presented with a summary to help better understand my personal reflections, in which I will share the emotions and impacts these readings had on me. My goal is not only to convey the content of these works, but also to show you how they made me feel. This approach seeks to not only introduce the books, but also create a more intimate connection, showing how these stories resonate in my own journey. I hope these shared experiences touch you, provide comfort, inspiration, or simply a moment of connection, thereby bringing us closer and strengthening our sense of community and solidarity as SWers.

Who am I?
What experiences shape my reflections?

I am a cisgender, heterosexual, middle-class white woman from the South Shore of Montreal. I am a psychosocial interventionnist engaged in the field of sex work, with three years of experience working at a community organization that is dedicated to improving the living conditions of SWers. My ongoing academic background, a certificate in feminist studies, another in critical sexuality studies, and a bachelor’s degree in sexology, allows me to approach issues facing SWers from an intersectional perspective. I have contributed to various research projects related to the community, with COCQ-SIDA. Additionally, my personal experience of ten years in the sex industry, including two years in an escort agency and eight years as a part-time independent escort, enriches my understanding of the realities of SWers. This combination of academic, professional, and personal experiences provides me with both theoretical and practical insights into sex work issues, while remaining grounded in real-world realities.

Reading to reconnect
Towards a community bibliotherapy

Ninguna mujer nace para puta, María Galindo and Sonia Sanchez, 2007

SUMMARY: The phrase originated in Bolivia and spread to Argentina. “No woman is born to be a whore” is the slogan on a banner carried by María Galindo and Sonia Sánchez during protests and debates. It is also the title of this book, in which these two figures of contemporary Latin American feminism analyze, from the perspective of the whore, the political, ideological, and philosophical processes that push prostitutes out of public life. This deep immersion into the world of prostitution offers the reader new analytical concepts. The authors openly denounce all the profiteers of this system: the “prostituters” (the state and patriarchy) and the parasites (unions, churches, and NGOs). By defining “the street” as a political territory, they propose new ways for SWers to form connections, organize and rebel.

PERSONAL REFLECTION: I found this book particularly enlightening from a cultural perspective, as it offers a glimpse into the reality of SWers in Latin America, a context I was unfamiliar with prior. What struck me most was the way the authors highlight the role of government institutions and the state in maintaining the precarity of sex work. They rightly emphasize that despite minimal government aid, such as food and condom distribution, the state fails to provide real opportunities for education and training, further exacerbating SWers vulnerabilities.

The authors do not only emphasize and denounce profiteers, they also offer ways to transform this reality. By defining the street as a political territory and encouraging organization and rebellion, María Galindo and Sonia Sanchez provide powerful tools for empowering Bolivian SWers. This constructive and militant approach resonates deeply with me because it exhibits our ability to act and advocate for the rights of our community. Ninguna mujer nace para puta is thus a source of inspiration and a call to action for more recognition and better working conditions for all SWers.

Yogi Stripper, Marie-Claude Renaud, 2023

SUMMARY: “It wasn’t just the money that made it enjoyable. All this desire focused on my little self intoxicated, poorly nourished ego… in addition to the sensory, sensual, and sexual pleasures that reached levels never before explored.” The ups and downs of an improbable double life. From her beginnings as a stripper in countryside bars to her success in Montreal’s largest clubs, Marie-Claude Renaud reveals the behind-the-scenes of this sultry world, frankly and without judgment. With spontaneity, she opens up about her difficult relationships with addiction, food, her body image, and recounts her tumultuous explorations of psychedelic drugs. Finally, having found relative peace in yoga, she also discovers a certain hypocrisy to the yogi community, which she does not hesitate to denounce! Honest, captivating, funny, and highly sincere, Yogi Stripper invites us into a life governed by an irresistible need for freedom.

PERSONAL REFLECTION: The author immerses us into the backstage of her double life with great sincerity, revealing the ups and downs of her journey in the world of Montreal’s strip clubs. What particularly struck me was her refreshing honesty when it came to her approach to managing her addictions and her relationship with psychedelic drugs. She openly shares her challenges with drug use, both in her personal life and through her work, offering a rare and valuable insight into this reality.

Marie-Claude Renaud does not shy away from addressing the bodily pressures one can feel in the industry, which can affect our body image and eating habits, describing how these aspects can influence our well-being. Her story, both frank and impactful, is filled with emotions and humor, making difficult subjects more accessible and less taboo. The way she explores her internal contradictions and personal discoveries, especially her experience with yoga and the hypocrisy she encountered, adds an extra dimension to her testimony.

Yogi Stripper is an inspiring read that offers an honest and liberating perspective on the challenges we may face in our work. The book encourages self-reflection and personal growth, while addressing often hidden aspects of our professional reality with lightness and authenticity.

Balance ton corps : manifeste pour le droit des femmes à disposer de leur corps, Bebe Melkor-Kadior, 2020

SUMMARY: This book is the manifesto of Bebe Melkor-Kadior, an Afro-feminist sex worker, who argues for body freedom and unashamed sexuality. After the #MeToo movement and the liberation of speech around female sexuality, new voices of pro-choice feminism are rising. Bebe Melkor-Kadior is one of them. At only 24 years old, her extensive experience as a sex worker and her inclusive vision of feminism led her to develop her life philosophy: the great principles for being a slut, a sharp critique of our “prude society”, a plea for sex education for young people and the emergence of positive masculinity. Throughout the text, the author lays the foundations for her ideal world: a society where sex is no longer taboo but a topic like any other, taught in schools to create enlightened citizens. A tangible testimony that shapes a new feminist thought, challenging and of its time.

PERSONAL REFLECTION: Bebe Melkor-Kadior’s manifesto offers a refreshing and bold perspective on sex work, sexuality, and feminism. Her Afro-feminist approach brings a crucial intersectional dimension often overlooked in mainstream discussions on these topics. The author skillfully weaves together sex education, positive masculinity, and a sexually liberated society, offering an innovative vision that will resonate with many SWers. Her proposal for a society where sex is no longer taboo, instead a topic like any other, is both stimulating and necessary. Her vision of positive masculinity is a fascinating aspect of the book. She explores how challenging mainstream toxically masculine behaviours can improve gender relations and help destigmatize sex work.

What makes this book particularly appealing to SWers is the way Bebe Melkor-Kadior directly addresses the realities of the industry. She provides a candid, non-judgmental look at sex work while advocating for greater recognition of our rights. Although her vision may sometimes seem idealistic, it inspires one to imagine and work towards a world where sex work is recognized, respected, and integrated into our social fabric like any other profession.

Devenir perra, Itziar Ziga, 2009

SUMMARY: Itziar Ziga grew up in a neighborhood in the Spanish Basque Country, surrounded by toxic clouds and neon green wastelands. She loves feather boas, sometimes dresses up as a trucker, and refers to herself as a bitch. This book exudes a contagious freedom and enthusiasm. It is a testimony of joyful activism marked by cross-dressing and street performances, and carries the brutal demands of those who remain on the margins of a society that condemns them.

Prefaced by Virginie Despentes and Paul B. Preciado, Devenir perra is both a collective portrait and an autobiographical essay. Itziar Ziga describes the experience of a subversive femininity, hyperbolic and humorous. Prostitution, veiling, sexuality, trans identity, and social precariousness are themes that run through the text, in a resolutely intersectional and anti-assimilationist approach.

PERSONAL REFLECTION: This is a true literary punch that promises to shake and inspire SWers, alongside anyone who challenges societal norms. This book is a bold, uncompromising celebration of subversive femininity and queer activism. The intersectional framework of the book is another strong point. By weaving together themes like trans identity, social precariousness, and marginalized sexualities, Itziar Ziga creates a rich and complex portrait that reflects the diversity of experiences within SWers’ communities.

For SWers seeking a read that validates their experiences while pushing them to reflect and act, Devenir perra is a must. It is a manifesto for those who remain at the margins, and a call to pride and solidarity.

Bibliographical references

Bebe Melkior-Kadior. (2020). Balance ton corps: manifeste pour le droit des femmes à disposer de leur corps. La Musardine.

Itziar Ziga. ( 2009). Devenir perra. Editorial Melusina.

María Galindo and Sonia Sanchez. (2007). Ninguna mujer nace para puta. Lavaca.

Marie-Claude Renaud. (2023). Yogi stripper. La Mèche.

1. Ouaknin, M.-A. (2016b). «Chapitre II. À l’ombre des mots en fleur», Dans :, M. Ouaknin, Bibliothérapie: Lire, c’est guérir (pp. 47-53). Paris: Le Seuil.↩

2. Ibid↩

3. Ibid↩

4. Ibid↩

5. Ibid↩

6. Ibid↩

CatsMTL

Honey Mon Miel

Honey Mon Miel

by Gina Flash
Translated by Céleste Ivy

Original text in italics

Photo by Cherry Blue
Model: Gina Flash

I don’t write everything
that I think about
and then
I die

and I don’t know how to explain the streaks metal leaves on my tired skin, so I’ll settle for grinding on those men like a fucking demon I write to this lover “yesterday I slid on the clients like a fucking demon I don’t know if I’ll even have the strength to make love to you” I think about that string tying me to the chair or wrapped around my ankles I think about my ankles wrapped around the legs of the chair I think about what my friends will have to share if I too fall off this balcony month of november 2024 I write down the list : a couple of thongs full of stripper’s ass juice (hommage à Vickie Gendreau) – the complete Nana manga collection covered with my tears – my jewelry – two BPD cats like me – some very serious books – the glitter slipped between their pages – my cameras – the porn still on it I find my friends lucky

stomping on that stage like i slide on the back of that very ugly man covered in oil: I introduce myself as a null space in between boredom and collapse and when I do they make it rain the rain spreads over my face and smears the makeup I apply slowly at the beginning of the shift that is my life

a sex worker for all dogs – always someone to pleasure – why can’t I come to the party ?

honey mon miel
don’t worry
if you tip me well
you’ll also be
in my next poem

CatsMTL

Inquiry: Working conditions in Montreal strip clubs

Inquiry: Working conditions in Montreal strip clubs

By Cherry Blue

Translation by Fred Burrill

Bag and coat by fashion freak designs, model: Luna Sebbar, photo by Carol Ribeiro

I’ve been dancing for three years now, mainly in Montreal, and I’ve seen enough to know that the way it often gets talked about is far from the reality of the industry or ignorant of the most important issues. There’s a tendency to overfocus on the client-dancer relationship, but the most obvious power abuses are usually elsewhere. Following SWAC’s workers’ inquiry into massage parlor conditions, I thought it could be useful to do something similar for strip clubs. I therefore had the pleasure of undertaking interviews with several Montreal dancers –  Delilah, Dua, and Cleo – who discussed the realities of the industry and reflected on their experiences. This article is a melting pot of their sometimes diverging but often similar observations. 

Security, Management and the Labor Surplus

Most of the dancers interviewed started working out of economic necessity, as their jobs in restaurants or the creative industry didn’t pay enough and were too demanding. One of the interviewees specified however that she had dreamed of becoming a dancer since she was a child. They all agreed that, in terms of time and energy vs. salary, dancing is the best possible job available to them. Nevertheless, like all sex workers, they are impacted by the absence of regulations in the industry. For example, there are no sick days or protections in case of injury.  Delilah mentioned that it’s exhausting having to always wear high heels and dance on the pole:

There are so many ways to get hurt or to be put in danger. I have to be careful to conserve my energy and not book too many nights. As a rule, clubs let us skip shifts if we’re sick, but some are really strict and make us prove we’re ill. Otherwise, we can be barred. Some managers pressure us to work a lot of shifts per week; others are more lax. In general, the expensive, “classy” clubs are the most strict.

Several of my interviewees also mentioned that dancers are sometimes fired for ridiculous reasons and that managers are often disrespectful toward them. Dua recounted how one of her co-workers was let go because she talked back to a client who said something racist to her. They also all mentioned the relatively poor sanitary conditions in the clubs. But the interviewees especially underlined how managers and security are generally not there to help them if they need assistance. Cleo described her experience: “In certain clubs, even if I’m screaming in the private booth, they don’t hear me or they don’t care. They kick out clients who don’t buy drinks, but when it comes to the dances, we’re basically our own bosses.” With few exceptions, management generally doesn’t intervene when clients don’t respect the limits of the dancers or refuse to pay. There are certain disrespectful regulars who spend a lot at the bar, and that’s all that matters to the club – their own money. 


When I asked them if their experiences varied from club to club, they told me that the clients are basically all the same, good and bad, but the real difference was between managements. Managers abuse their power, dehumanizing and denigrating their employees. Some interviewees had been fired for having broken an arbitrary rule or for some other nebulous reason, without warning. Frequent rule changes seem to be part of the manager’s power trip; they generally make little sense. For example, one club removed the curtains from the private booths during Covid-19, and then never put them back. This affects both the club and the dancer’s revenues, for no clear reason. Another club is now insisting that dancers book their appearances more than two months in advance, where most clubs instead require only a week’s notice. All the interviewees agreed that managements were abusive, although to varying degrees at each place. Cleo commented that she was happy to have started dancing at 25, because she knows how to assert her limits and to not waste her time. She sees managers abusing 18-year-old girls, flirting with them more and putting more pressure on them. She also talked to me about DJs and their habit of interrupting private dances by calling dancers on stage at random moments. “There’s only one club in Montreal where the DJ just does his job, waiting for the girls to be ready to come on stage, but everywhere else we’re always at risk of losing money from the private booths because we get called on stage. It kills the mood for the clients and so the private dance stops there.”

All the dancers interviewed noticed an increase in solidarity between dancers, pointing out that this phenomenon is poorly understood in popular culture. One of the interviewees said that she could see her club unionizing. Another remarked that “the smaller the club, the greater the solidarity, but the bigger clubs can be brutal and competitive. The competition creates rivalries. But in general, I see more mutual aid than competition.” I also asked my interviewees if this general goodwill between workers extended to other parts of the sex work industry, and the answers were mixed. Some of their colleagues are proud to say that they don’t do “more” than dancing, basically saying “I’m not that kind of girl.” Delilah pointed out however that the industry seems to be changing: “the younger girls I work with do more full service than the older ones, as the culture is becoming more open to that sort of thing. Maybe it’s that attitudes are changing, but it’s also probably because of the recession; it’s getting harder and harder to make a living as a dancer.” Many dancers do other forms of sex work but hide it at the strip club. They’re definitely exposed to the judgment of the clients, ranging from those who make moral critiques of them to those who always demand full service in the strip club, where it’s generally forbidden.

Despite the sometimes difficult conditions, all the interviewees agreed that interest in working in the clubs is growing: more and more girls want to dance. Also, clubs book more girls each night. They talked about this hyper-saturation of the labor market possibly being due to the popularization of dancing on social media, especially the multiplication of pole dancers – strippers or otherwise. There’s also maybe less stigma amongst younger people. So the industry is more competitive; fewer and fewer girls get “selected” to dance, reinforcing inequalities in who can access the clubs. Delilah remarked that “there’s lots of fatphobia, ageism, racism, and transphobia in the industry, and especially in the strip clubs. I wish there was at least one trans-friendly club.”

 

Handling Stigma and Looking to the Future

The interviewees were generally not out to their families or their colleagues in their other workplaces. They talk about stripping to people who are open to sex work, but outside of this bubble, people are shocked or fascinated. Cleo explains: “Sometimes, I feel like explaining my work, sometimes not. It’s hard with guys I’m seeing, they say, ‘Oh, you’re a naughty girl.’” Some talked about experiencing a loss of sexual desire, having less interest in being erotic. One dancer specified that it’s also a health question: she gets yeast infections if she does too many lap dances, so that turns her off of sex. Another point mentioned was the psychological difficulty of being in relationships with men when you’re a sex worker: “It’s easy to find yourself in a toxic relationship, because they get jealous or they don’t respect us fully, even if they sometimes say the opposite.” 

 

 

As for their financial situations, some are saving up or are going to school in preparation for life after sex work, while others are taking it day by day. They all have personal projects outside of stripping. One explained: “A lot of girls spend all their money. I try to save, but I’m always getting hurt or I need care, so it’s not easy.” Another told me she preferred to concentrate on collective resistance than to work as much as possible to have a financially stable future.

Towards the political organization of the strip club

Finally, I asked them what they thought about decriminalizing sex work. They were all in favor, seeing it as a way to have access to more stable rights at work. However, one of the interviewees had some broader concerns: 

 

In principle, I believe in decriminalization, but in practice I’m not sure. At the end of the day, it would be a good thing for everyone’s safety, but it could take away some of the things that I like about this work. Sex work is work, but it’s not a job; it happens outside of professional norms. I like the no-strings-attached part, I don’t want a boss and I want to choose when I work, so this clandestine reality works for me. I’m happy to not pay taxes and not finance the government’s huge military budget. I worry too that management will take a bigger part of our income. I think the fact that strip clubs aren’t regulated plays in our favor in terms of what we can earn. That said, maybe the possibility of forming a strong union would help us. I understand too that I have the privilege of having other options, and that decriminalization would probably create safer spaces for more marginalized workers.

Another dancer agreed that we would probably end up making a bit less money, but that we could also get unemployment and sick days, making it worth it in the end. Comparing our reality here in Montreal to strip clubs outside of Quebec, she pointed out that we’re quite lucky: “It’s the only place in the world I know where they don’t take a percentage of our earnings, only a bar fee, around $20-60. On that level, we’re really privileged.” However, she also argued that we need rights and security, and that decriminalization is the only way to get this. The road might be long, and there will be highs and lows, but a better future where we can have both good salaries and better working conditions seems possible if we get organized. Two strip clubs in the United States have already unionized. The strippers at Star Garden in LA, after a year and a half of being on strike, included demands such as a cut of the bar profits, freedom to choose their own schedules, getting rid of bar fees, rules around firings and more protection from the clients. “We fought for it, we worked for it, we bled for it, we cried for it. We made history,1 ” said one of those dancers. It’s not unreasonable to believe that we can do it too.

1.Emma Alabaster et Natalie Chudnovsky. (2024). What happened after the nation’s only unionized strip club reopened in North Hollywood — 6 months later, from https://laist.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/the-nations-only-unionized-strip-club-reopens-in-north-hollywood  ↩

CatsMTL

Militant Inquiry in Massage Parlors: Collectivizing Our Resistance

Militant Inquiry in Massage Parlors: Collectivizing Our Resistance

Interviews by Adore Goldman, Astrea Leonis, Melina May,

and Susie Showers

Analysis Written by Adore Goldman and Melina May

Photos by Imara

As a movement, we have too often kept quiet about our poor working conditions, fearing that prohibitionists would weaponize this information to deprive us of agency and discredit us. Our silence doesn’t mean we haven’t resisted daily: whether at work or at home, we have implemented tactics to fight against abuse, violence, or simple everyday frustrations.

This year, the Sex Work Autonomous Committee (SWAC) conducted a militant inquiry in massage parlors to document working conditions. We conducted 14 interviews with massage workers, primarily in Montreal. The goal was to understand the tactics workers use to resist workplace abuse, and to transform this analysis into collective action strategies.

Our initiative is inspired by the tradition of worker inquiry, combining knowledge production and political organizing. We make no claim to scientific objectivity. Instead, we deliberately side with our colleagues, as our approach is also a form of collective workplace organizing. This is co-research where knowledge is created “bottom up.”

Before proceeding with the analysis of the data collected, it is essential to situate ourselves as investigators. We who designed this project come from different work environments. Although some of us have been massage workers, we currently do not work in that field. We are independent escorts with experience in employer-controlled environments, such as strip clubs or massage parlors. This analysis and the organizational proposals presented are the result of our discussions with massage workers during the investigation and our experience in the sex industry. We hope these ideas can serve as a starting point for broader discussions on organizing sex workers (SWers).

Social Composition

Entry in the sex industry:


Among the reasons cited by the participants for entering the industry, one constant emerges: economic needs. Many mentioned being full-time students or wanting to leave low-wage jobs in service and hospitality for higher earnings in fewer hours. Some were introduced to the industry by a friend already working in it.

For others, precarious situations pushed them to choose sex work. One participant described facing a major employment constraint that prevents full-time work. Because social assistance couldn’t meet their basic needs amidst rising living costs, sex work became a way to alleviate financial distress. Another person cited their precarious immigration status as a reason to take undocumented work, helping cover costs related to regularizing their status in Canada. One participant wanted to get out of an abusive relationship.

For nearly half the participants, massage parlors were their entry point into the sex industry. However, many didn’t stay long. Faced with abusive conditions in massage parlors, many turned to independent work to improve conditions and income. This is a common path in the industry, whether by choice or because a boss fires them after a conflict; the idea of taking control of one's work (schedule, rates, conditions, etc.) appeals to many.

Sex Work and Precarity

The realities faced by the workers interviewed are a far cry from the glamorous image shown in some popular media. Reality is much more complex. While it can improve economic conditions, SWers often combine multiple income sources to maintain a standard of living they consider decent. Their income remains unstable and precarious.

Indeed, many participants found it hard to estimate their earnings due to a high level of monthly variability. Workers often juggle multiple hustles, combining massage parlor work with independent escorting, stripping, camming, or creating sexual content online (e.g., OnlyFans).

Half the participants also had jobs outside the sex industry, in fields like healthcare, culture, research, and agriculture. Some were students receiving loans and bursaries, while one relied on social assistance with severe employment constraints. In this way, sex work becomes a means to supplement insufficient income in order to live with dignity.

That being said, with the instability comes the advantage of flexibility. One massage worker noted that despite difficult working conditions and unstable income, quick cash and flexible hours made it worthwhile. This point is essential to bear in mind as we continue the fight. Indeed, this kind of freedom is increasingly sought after by workers of all kinds today. This reflects an aspiration for more free time and shorter working hours, which helps explain the attraction of massage parlor work, and sex work more broadly. Maintaining this flexibility must be central to our demands, as it is an advantage that workers do not want to lose.

Working Conditions

This part of the analysis offers an opportunity to reflect on how work is organized in massage parlors: how is it divided? What are the power dynamics? We also asked participants about their experiences with working conditions. The main issues raised were related to hygiene and violence.

 

Organisation of WORK:

 

The Boss:

 

Massage parlor owners are men, women, and in one case, a queer person. Women owners are often former massage workers or secretaries. 

Employers are frequently described as abusive, narcissistic, and invalidating. There was no notable difference in that regard according to gender, though women were said to have a more nurturing side, according to those interviewed. Many bosses were described as manipulative people who engage in psychological games to exploit employees. In several instances, bosses made demeaning comments about the massage workers’ looks or weight, or made racist remarks. Another common grievance was that bosses tend to support clients over their workers in situations involving violence. Moreover, in at least two massage parlors, employers had sexual relationships with workers, which led to power imbalances and instances of abuse. Workers noted that bosses often play favorites, deepening divisions and creating an unhealthy work environment.

In some cases, the employer was absent from the workplace most of the time, and it was the secretary who managed the premises and took on the role of the boss.

The Secretary:

Secretaries are generally in charge of greeting clients and handling room payments. They are almost always women. Secretaries can be allies to massage workers when it comes to sharing information about clients. Some, for instance, warn workers if a client has a history of violence. In certain massage parlors, there is also a manager who acts as a bouncer. 

However, in some cases, particularly when the boss is absent, secretaries also enforce discipline. Five massage workers reported being subjected to violence, especially psychological violence, at the hands of secretaries.

The Massage Workers:

Massage workers are the backbone of their workplaces. Without them, there would be no massage parlor. They provide erotic massages (including masturbation), with or without extras1.

In massage parlors that offer extras, workers typically negotiate services directly with the client, who then pays them directly. Generally, it is the workers who determine the price, but some parlors set a minimum or maximum rate. One parlor even established a pricing chart for each extra service. Sometimes, employers pressure workers to lower their prices. In some cases, workers discuss and agree together on rates for each service. However, some respondents reported preferring to avoid talking about their services to prevent tension or competition with colleagues. For example, a few workers mentioned that certain extras, like barebacking,2 were taboo.

In one parlor, the employer attempted to have extras paid by clients directly to the secretary at the time of room payment. This change was not well-received by the workers, who lost their ability to negotiate with clients. This situation led to significant protests and several firings. This arrangement does not appear to be the norm in massage parlors.

Workers in parlors that do not offer extras stated that clients generally expect extras to be provided. They reported having to constantly refuse these requests, prompting some workers to prefer parlors where extras are allowed. If they themselves did not provide extras, they strongly suspected others of doing so. And if some workers did offer extras, they did so despite the risk of being reported by clients to management and subsequently fired. Additionally, in these parlors, having condoms is forbidden, forcing SWers who offer full services to hide them.

Another part of the massage workers’ job is housekeeping. They are generally expected to clean the rooms, showers, and sometimes do the laundry after each session. Often, cleaning other common areas is a responsibility assigned to nobody, so some workers take it upon themselves to do it. We will elaborate further on housekeeping tasks in the next section.

Cleanliness and Hygiene

The results of our inquiry regarding cleanliness and hygiene are split into two extremes: some participants reported being very satisfied, while others reported being disgusted. As previously mentioned, massage workers handle a significant portion of the housekeeping in massage parlors. After an appointment, they are required to disinfect the mattress, change the sheets, empty the trash, put towels in the wash, and complete other basic tasks. A frequently mentioned issue was the lack of cleaning supplies and tools, which makes it difficult to perform these duties.

When it comes to general maintenance, one thing was clear: these tasks are generally neglected. In this category, participants mentioned duties such as cleaning showers, mirrors, floors, and common areas. As noted earlier, responsibilities and roles in massage parlors are ambiguous; this work is rarely assigned to anyone in particular. With the exception of one massage parlor that reportedly has a cleaner come in every two weeks, the cleaning is usually done by massage workers, or sometimes by the secretary, highlighting the gendered nature of these tasks. Moreover, this labor is unpaid: apart from direct compensation from clients, no remuneration is provided for this recurrent maintenance work. Yet, the massage parlor charges clients for use of the rooms.

Some participants reported extreme unsanitary conditions in their workplaces, caused by infestations of rats and bedbugs, mold, water leaks, cracks in the ceiling and floors, etc. In response to these hazardous working conditions, workers’ complaints are rarely addressed: either the employer outright ignores their requests, or does a half-hearted job at best.

Violence and Insecurity at Work

The violence experienced in massage parlors is multifaceted, and sometimes insidious. All respondents reported having experienced violence, which came from clients, receptionists, bosses, and, more rarely, from their colleagues or the police.

Clients in massage parlors are the primary perpetrators of violence. The most frequently reported acts were sexual and physical assaults: forcing acts that were not previously negotiated, removing or attempting to remove condoms, choking, restraining, and hitting. Several respondents also mentioned economic abuse, such as refusal to pay, haggling over rates, and theft. Additionally, psychological and verbal abuse, including derogatory remarks, death threats, and racist, homophobic, and misogynistic comments, were common.

From management, meaning secretaries and bosses, the reported violence was primarily economic, verbal, and psychological. An issue that came up repeatedly is the financial sanctions imposed by management. In one massage parlor, the boss imposed a $20 fine if a condom wrapper was left in the room. Other reported abuses included practices forbidden by labor regulations: requiring longer shifts, forbidding workers from going outside during the entirety of their shift, harassment, closing the parlor without notice, arbitrary dismissal, surveillance of communal spaces via microphones, assaults, etc. Several massage workers decided to leave of their own accord, tired of being belittled for their appearance. Body hair, hairstyles, wearing high heels, lingerie, and makeup — massage workers are expected to conform to standards of femininity imposed by the boss and secretary.

More rarely, the feeling of insecurity came from coworkers’ behavior. Some respondents mentioned that the whorearchy creates power dynamics between “decent” massage workers and those who are looked down upon for their practices. These acts are sometimes judged as dirty or impure, and at other times seen as a way to get all the clients.

Finally, external factors can create insecurity for workers. Notably, some mentioned constant police surveillance, with officers sometimes photographing workers’ license plates. Some massage workers reported police raids on their parlors, where officers posed as clients to receive services.

Collective Strategies

 

Massage workers resist on a daily basis. Faced with an authoritarian boss and the absence of rights, sex workers must find ways to regain control. Individual strategies reported ranged from pretending to have their period to finish early, to committing acts of vandalism. Sometimes, resistance also meant leaving their workplace to work as independent escorts, or finding a safer parlor. These strategies are an expression of a refusal of work that must be acknowledged as such if we want to turn it into collective resistance strategies.

During interviews, massage workers shared their strategies for supporting and organizing with their colleagues. They shared important information about pushy and violent clients and how to work with them while maintaining boundaries. One person’s experience also benefits others when it comes to confronting the boss or the secretary about their abusive behaviors. Several reported grouping together to discuss their conditions, formulate proposals, select a representative to speak to the boss, or speak together as a united front. For example, in one massage parlor, workers united to demand the extermination of bedbugs in their workplace. In another setting, workers protested against the introduction of the policy of clients paying for extras at reception. In that case, workers organized meetings to discuss the situation and decide who would speak to the employer. Very often, this strategy ended in dismissals.

 

Finally, some mentioned organizing outside of massage parlors with colleagues to give each other advice and help secure better job opportunities by sharing information about safer environments, or ways to work independently. A few massage workers also mentioned organizing through SWAC.

So, What Now?
Our Proposals

This analysis of massage workers’ labor provides useful insights for the political organization of sex workers in the workplace. These proposals are meant to be discussed in groups and adapted to different settings before being put into action. Nevertheless, we believe it is important to present them in order to move beyond mere data collection and advance the fight to improve our working conditions.

 

First, working organization could be negotiated with the employer. Regarding extras, workers would benefit from discussing the rates they want to set for each service, and imposing them on the boss. The decision to allow extras in a parlor should also be a collective one, determined by the massage workers. Additionally, housekeeping tasks should either be fully covered by the employer — since the client pays for the room rental — or be compensated. Standardizing the rates for extras would also help increase solidarity.

 

Next, violence remains a major issue to combat in massage parlors. The primary problem is that violent clients are often tolerated because they provide income for the parlor. Worse still, a client’s history of violence is often not disclosed to new workers. We believe that the right to refuse a client should be fundamental, and should include access to the client’s history. The decision to ban a client from the parlor should be left to the workers. Violent incidents could be documented and shared between parlors in the form of a blacklist.

 

However, given the issue of wrongful dismissals in massage parlors, achieving these gains will not be easy. To succeed, unity among massage workers is essential. In the cases we studied, the dismissal of the most militant workers brought mobilizations to an end. Therefore, organizing against dismissals is critical.

 

We believe that the creation of an autonomous union is essential for the organization of SWers. This isn’t for the legal protections it provides, since our work is illegal, but because of the powerful and necessary organization it enables. Through a union, we can carry out collective actions and shift the balance of power in our favor. Pressure tactics such as strikes, picketing, collective resignations, and more could be considered. These actions disrupt the normal course of operations and jeopardize the employer’s revenue, thus forcing them to make concessions. This way, we can negotiate new working conditions and fight back against repression, such as wrongful dismissals.

 

From the beginning, we have said that sex work is work! The workers’ movement has fought in countless ways against employers. SWers are creative and will undoubtedly develop powerful tactics to bring these strategies to life in their workplaces.

1. Extras are sexual services of various types, for example: blowjobs, vaginal penetration, anal penetration, French kissing, and barebacking (penetration without a condom).↩

2. Penetration without condom ↩

3. Whorearchy refers to the hierarchical system in which sex workers are ranked. This ranking depends on proximity to clients (for example, sex workers who provide full services), interactions with the police, and also on class, race, and gender norms. Thus, street-based sex workers find themselves at the bottom of the scale. At SWAC, we aim to fight against these ways of thinking that undermine solidarity among sex workers. ↩

CatsMTL

Taking Back our Humanity: a Question of Strategy!

Taking Back our Humanity: a Question of Strategy!

By Adore Goldman

Translated by Tess McCrea

Faced with the Trudeau government’s broken promises to decriminalize sex work in its second term, the Canadian Alliance for Sex Work Law Reform (the Alliance) launched a constitutional challenge to laws criminalizing sex work in March 2021. The coalition, which brings together 25 sex worker (SWer) organizations and allies across the country, has exhausted other avenues: lobbying political parties and making media appearances has proved not to be enough. The Alliance, along with six other plaintiffs, claims that the Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act violates the fundamental human rights of SWers under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. 1

It must be said that at the time of the lawsuit, the ground seemed ripe for legal change. In the winter of 2020, an Ontario Superior Court judge declared certain provisions of the law on prostitution to be unconstitutional.2 Two owners of an escort agency, who had been charged with pimping, succeeded in having these laws recognized as impeding the right to safety of SWers. In the summer of 2023, a SWer won her case against a client who refused to pay her in Nova Scotia Small Claims Court.3 Adjudicator Darrell Pink handed down a landmark decision, which described the plaintiff’s work as “legal”. Internationally, the European Court of Human Rights has just agreed to hear the case of 261 SWers against the French government. The plaintiffs similarly argue that the criminalization of clients and third parties hinders their human rights.4

However, in September 2023, almost a year after arguing before the Ontario Superior Court, the Alliance was disappointed by the outcome: Justice Goldstein ruled that the law was constitutional, and that decriminalization might be a better legal model, but that it was ultimately for Parliament to decide, not the judiciary. In the face of this decision, Jenn Clamen, coordinator for the Alliance, declared that SWers across Canada were “extremely devastated” by the ruling, finding it “not only insulting, but ignorant”.5  Monica Forrester, plaintiff in the case, added that “Indigenous, Black, migrant and trans sex workers bear the brunt of the criminalization of sex work, as we are communities that are already excessively policed and under-protected”. The Alliance plans to appeal the decision.

We would, however, like to express some reservations about the Alliance’s strategy of legal challenge. Relying on the courts to arbitrate our political conflicts is a risky gamble. We believe that there are other avenues that have not yet been explored to achieve the decriminalization of sex work in Canada. We need to exert real power if we want to achieve our goals and concretely improve our working and living conditions. Our proposition goes as follows: by organizing into unions, it’s possible to organize for decriminalization on a much more lasting and powerful basis!

Photo by Chris Lau

Judgement does not come suddenly; the proceedings gradually merge into the judgement. -The Trial, Franz Kafka

Before elaborating on our perspectives on this fight, we first want to substantiate our critique of legal challenges as a strategy. 

Our first criticism concerns the complexity of the judicial system, and our inability to impose our strategies in this arena. For most of us, the courts are intimidating and impenetrable. We don’t speak their language. We don’t have the tools to make our stories and political demands heard. So we need lawyers as interpreters. They are the ones who plead our cause. The words of SWers thus become mere testimony. And for us SWers who don’t work in Alliance-member organizations, or who are not plaintiffs, we are completely deprived of any strategic power in the matter. It’s also disempowering to have to transform the language of political organization into the language of the courts. The opponent’s control of words gives him great power; we find ourselves trapped in this Kafkaesque bureaucratic absurdity.

In this case, even before the trial began, compromises had to be made to fit into the judicial framework. For example, it is not possible to attack both criminal and immigration law at the same time. Yet it is under the latter that SWers who do not have permanent residency are deported. The strategy has been to attack the criminal law first, then turn towards the immigration law. In our view, this two-stage strategy is a strategic error. In New Zealand, the first country to decriminalize sex work, migrant sex workers who are not permanent residents are still unable to work legally, twenty years after decriminalization. It is convenient for the government to claim that it has decriminalized sex work while continuing to use arguments against sex trafficking. In other words, repression is shifted entirely onto migrant sex workers. Yet we know that difficulties immigrating through regular channels lead people to turn to third parties to cross borders and find jobs in Western countries, whether in the sex industry or elsewhere. 

Our second criticism is that resorting to the courts also leaves us without an organized SWer movement capable of exerting power against the government. Because even in the event of a court victory, the bill will still need to be written. In 2014, after the Bedford ruling that declared the sex work law unconstitutional, the Conservative government introduced the current model that criminalizes clients and third parties. It’s not impossible that by the time of the Supreme Court ruling, a Conservative government will be in place again. In any case, a strong and organized movement, not limited to employees of Alliance-member organizations, will be necessary to ensure that there are no shortcomings in the new law; lobbying political parties and making media appearances is not enough. 

It would be foolish to think we can do everything without picking our battles. Resorting to the legal system is a costly business: the lawyers, our interpreters, don’t work for free. Litigation gobbles up an impressive amount of resources in terms of money and human labor. For example, the organization Stella spent $120,105 on legal fees in 2023, and $173,552 in 2022. 6Legal fees are their second-largest budget item after salaries and benefits. These resources are not being put into mobilizing and self-organizing SWers for political change and better working conditions. 

Even with a law decriminalizing sex work in its entirety, many of us would still be facing unjust working conditions, powerless before our employers. It is direct participation in organizing resistance that educates us and makes us stronger. On this point, we agree with Justice Goldstein when he says that it’s not up to the courts to rule; it’s in the political arena that our fight must be waged. To limit ourselves to the legal arena is a mistake.

By centering the whole battle around a change of legal model, the SWer movement has easily been labeled a liberal movement by abolitionists and some of the left. While some are in bad faith, with concerns centered on a moralistic vision of sexuality, part of the opposition to decriminalization stems from doubts about the ability of sex workers to exercise control over their workplace for themselves. By organizing in our workplaces while they are still illegal, we are proving to our opponents the power of our movement and its capacity for self-defense without relying on the state’s power. We believe that the demonstration of this organization could be enough to force the state to decriminalize sex work.

Photo by Chris Lau

“Stick Together ladies! Your unity is all you have… and all you need!”– Exotic Dancers Union at San Francisco’s Lusty Lady Theater7

As Triple-X Worker’s Association of BC pointed out, Goldstein clarifies the law with respect to the right of SWers to unionize. The judge is unequivocal on the subject: “As I have already emphasized, properly interpreted, PCEPA does not prevent sex workers from forming an association or a collective where it is not a commercial enterprise”.8 So it would be possible for SWers to organize ourselves into a union!

One of the main objections to the union strategy is that it requires SWers to put themselves on the line in the workplace in an illegal context. It is impossible to deny this risk. But we must remember the context in which the first trade union movement was born in the 19th century.

At that time, Capital’s grip on the working day was almost total; it was not uncommon for regular shifts to exceed 12 hours. There are known examples of workers dying of fatigue at work. Child labor was common. In this context, the only thing that put a stop to the capitalists’ greed was the mobilization of workers to limit the working day, at a time when the right to unionization did not exist in any industry. SWers share with the workers of the nineteenth century the almost total absence of rights. Our workplaces are completely deregulated. And yet, even in such a context, organization springs up, and we are capable of gathering power. But to do that, we have to meet up, get up, come together… Organize!

Even in legal environments such as strip clubs, we are unable to enforce working conditions that we consider acceptable, which proves that criminalization is not the only obstacle to better working conditions. Organizing is essential to obtaining rights. This year, strippers at the Star Garden in Los Angeles succeeded in making their workplace the first (and only) unionized strip club in the United States since the closure of the Lusty Lady. A few days later, the dancers at the Magic Tavern in Portland also launched a petition to unionize. At an event organized by SWAC, Reagan – a Star Garden stripper who participated in the strike and took part in the unionization campaign – said that it all started in the dressing rooms. It was while talking to their colleagues that the dancers decided they’d had enough of their dangerous working conditions! They went to their boss with a petition. In response, he fired two of the dancers. So they decided to go on strike. After several months of resistance, the fired employees got their jobs back, and the Star Garden has now reopened with unionized employees who have more control over their working conditions.

The unionization strategy also echoes  the mobilizations of the Argentinean and Indian SWers. In Argentina, SWers have a union, the Asociación de mujeres meretrices de la Argentina (AMMAR). AMMAR is part of a national confederation, the Central des Trabajores Argentinos, which brings together traditional trade unions as well as groups of unemployed workers, tenants and Indigenous groups.9 AMMAR has a number of demands, including decriminalization, an end to police harassment and access to the same rights as all workers, such as unemployment benefits and pensions. The union has succeeded on numerous occasions in having several local laws criminalizing SWers lifted.10

In India as well, it is the organization of SWers that has enabled them to establish a balance of power in the face of the state and the police. Prabha Kotiswaran, a lawyer and researcher, reports that in the 2000s, SWers working at the bus stations of Trirupati succeeded in imposing de facto decriminalization through their organization in the face of the forces of law and order.11 Kotiswaran also notes that in Calcutta, the Durbar Mahila Samanwaya Committee (DMSC), a SWer organization with 60,000 members:

while fostering an active political culture of protest against abusive customers, landlords, and brothel keepers. […] despite a highly abusive anti-sex work criminal law, an organization of sex workers has taken root to achieve the results of labor laws that the DMSC is so keen to have applied formally to the sex industry.12

These tactics enabled SWers to self-regulate in this context rather than resorting to the police, who were often  no help to them, and even detrimental. These examples show that beyond legal reforms, self-organization is even more important to improving our working and living conditions.

Organizing into a union would allow us to self-organize in our workplaces and improve our working conditions, but it is also possible that this strategy could lead to decriminalization. Firstly, by organizing, we are proving that it is possible to ensure our safety by our own means, without recourse to the police. Secondly, when labor disputes arise, the State will be forced to take a stand. Confrontations between SWers and their bosses are likely to lead to conflicts that the government will be forced to resolve, probably by decriminalizing our work and applying the Labor Code to our workplaces. Of course, this legal mechanism is not a miracle pill, and respect for our rights at work will always require mobilization. But it would certainly give us some leverage and legitimacy. After all, it is always workers’ resistance that provokes economic and political restructuring.

Photo by Chris Lau

A Battle for our Humanity

Legal challenges such as the ongoing one are based on the following premise: everyone has fundamental rights guaranteed by the state. Where there is a shortfall, the judiciary system is responsible for rectifying the situation. This human rights thesis postulates that there is an intrinsic humanity for all, the denial of which is merely an error to be corrected in an otherwise functional system.

This basic premise is a liberal fiction: in our class-based society, the stranglehold of patriarchal and race-based capitalism denies the humanity of a large part of the population. Furthermore, according to this ideology, only citizens enjoy these fundamental rights; migrants are in no way guaranteed access to them. As Leopoldina Fortunati puts it, “[i]t is only by devaluing them, by reducing [the individual] to a thing of no intrinsic value, that capitalism succeeds in forcing them to define themselves as labor power, to sell their labor capacity in order to obtain an exchange value”.13

If the state guarantees individuals theoretical equality, it is to maintain the illusion that they are free to sell their labor. Thus, according to Lucien Sève, “the social exteriority of the human world in relation to individuals entails, in any class society, its eventual inaccessibility to the majority – humanity has so far progressed through a massive atrophy of individualities”.14 There is a huge gap between the rights that the State “guarantees” us and those that we actually benefit from. Sève invites us to nurture an “ambition for radical emancipation: to form a new world where everyone can [humanize] themselves without impediment”15. Bringing our humanity up to date therefore involves collective resistance against the denial of our humanity. It is by joining forces with our fellow workers that we can truly fight against the denial of our rights.

We cannot count on the State to enforce them. Besides, legal changes are never an eternal guarantee. It’s easy to imagine a post-PCEPA16 future where cities have re-criminalized street-based sex work, where the police continue to harass the most visible sex workers – particularly trans and racialized sex workers – and where migrant sex workers become the focus of the fight against sex trafficking. It is also very plausible to imagine that the injustices in our workplaces will persist and that state institutions will still be conspicuously absent when it comes time to seek justice.

Clearly, the right to our humanity is something we must seize by uniting. We could, for example, organize to block the deportation of our colleagues, to retaliate against police officers who abuse their power, or to have unjust regulations lifted from our workplaces.

We will no longer allow ourselves to be humiliated, whether by our bosses, the courts or the State! To paraphrase James Baldwin, humanity is not something that is given to us, humanity is something that is taken! And it’s high time SWers take it!

1. The plaintiffs contend that the law violates SWers’ rights to safety, liberty, personal and sexual autonomy, life, equality, freedom of expression and freedom of association. In October 2022, the case was heard before the Ontario Superior Court. Find out more about the case: Canadian Alliance for Sex Work Reform. (2022). CASWLR vs. Canada. Our Charter Challenge to Sex Work-Specific Criminal Offences. ↩

2.  Jean-Philippe Nadeau. (2020). Des dispositions de la loi fédérale sur la prostitution sont anticonstitutionnelles.↩

3. Radio-Canada. (2023). Travail du sexe: un jugement rare contre une loi qualifiée d’«hypocrite». ↩

4. Human Right Watch. (2023). Europe: un moment charnière pour les droits des travailleuses du sexe.↩

5. Alliance canadienne pour la réforme des lois sur le travail du sexe. (2023). Communiqué de presse: Les travailleuses du sexe sont profondément déçues de la décision de la Cour supérieure de l’Ontario rejetant les préjudices systémiques subis.↩

6. Stella, L’amie de Maimie. (2023). «États des résultats pour l’exercice terminé le 31 mars 2023», États financiers pour l’exercice terminé le 31 mars 2023, p. 1.↩

7. The Lusty Lady was a peep-show in San Francisco where the workers led a campaign to unionize, which they won in 1997. At the time, it was the first unionized club in the United States. To find out more about this campaign, see the film Live Nude Girls Unite! (2000) by Julia Querry, a former dancer at the Lusty Lady, which does a great job of explaining the ins and outs of this movement.↩

8. Triple-X Worker’s Solidarity Association of B.C. (2023). In Canada the Government Does Have Business in the Bedrooms of the Nation Ontario ruling in constitutional challenge of Canada’s sex work laws disappoints but offers clarity on the sale of sex and freedom of association.↩

9. Kate Hardy. (2010). «Incorporating Sex Workers into the Argentine LaborMovement», International Labor and Working-Class History, 77(01):89 – 108.↩

10. Amalia L. Cabezas. (2012). «Latin American and Caribbean Sex Workers: Gains and challenges in the movement», Anti-trafficking Review↩

11. Prabha Kotiswaran. (2011). Dangerous Sex, Invisible Labor: Sex Work and the Law in India, Princeton University Press, p. 130.↩

12. Ibid., p. 248.↩

13. Leopoldina Fortunati. (2022). Production et reproduction: l’apparente antithèse du mode de production capitaliste.↩

14. Laurent Prost. (2009). «Entretien avec Lucien Sève», Le Philosophoire, no 32.↩

15. Ibid.↩

16. Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act. The law that criminalizes sex work in Canada, and is being challenged in the current constitutional challenge.↩

CatsMTL

We don’t want to face violence alone anymore

We don't want to face violence alone anymore

Speech read on December 17th at Stella's open mic

Par Adore Goldman & Francesca

We are Adore and Francesca and we are activists at the Sex Work Autonomous Committee. SWAC is a group that demands better working conditions in the sex industry and the decriminalization of sex work. We do that by encouraging grassroots organization within our workplaces.

As sex workers, we are sometimes tempted to hide the violence we are experiencing because we don’t want it to be used against us. We don’t want to confirm the stereotype that sex work is inherently violent. Unfortunately, by doing so, we are annihilating any chance to fight it collectively. In the last year, with SWAC, we did a militant inquiry in massage parlors and the interviewees shared with us many stories of violence in the workplace. Moreover, many explained that violent customers were often tolerated because they were a source of income for the parlors. This isn’t something specific to the sex industry. Bosses have never guaranteed a safe workplace environment before they were forced to do so. But because our workplaces are criminalized, we are told we don’t deserve these rights, that it’s impossible we get them. Well, rights were never given to us on a silver platter, it was always our collective organization that gave us the power to conquer them.

In these inquiries, we also heard stories of solidarity among workers. Despite having a highly competitive environment, when facing injustices and violence, sex workers do come together. This is what we are doing today and this is what we have to do more of. I’m not talking about being face out; I’m talking about organizing and speaking as a collective. By using collective actions, we can shift the power balance from the abusers to the workers. If money is what our employer is looking after, it’s his pocket we have to aim for.

We don’t want to be alone anymore when facing violence. We want to stand united against it and to fight it as workers. Cause when you’re a worker, you have a toolbox against violence: there are labor laws that say your employer has to guarantee your safety. If he doesn’t respect that, you can go on strike or you can collectively resign. We’re saying it’s time to stop the violence and make this toolbox ours.

The story you’re about to hear is a personal one. It exemplifies one of the many ways in which we may react when confronted with violence. It also exhibits the necessity of the collective. When we support each other, we may begin to organize. Some remarks of the characters may be shocking. We ask you to remember that it’s a literary work and a personal experience. While the characters use generalizing terms, its intention is not to paint the industry in broad strokes, but rather, discuss the unfortunate truth that violence does occur, and that community is one way to combat it.

Short-story by Francesca

When the club closes, we follow three balding men into the back of an Uber XL. I don’t need to tell her that I feel unsafe because she feels it too. We commit portions of our lives to feeling unsafe–being pushed beyond our comfort zones for the cost of a gram or a hydro bill. In the back seat, the balding men are coked-out. They ask us if we know any of the techno artists playing tonight’s event and I joke that I only come for the drugs. Recognizing the severity of my tone, I pitch my voice up an octave, hoping they may pay us more later. 

Now, I am digestible; a consumable version of myself that so many women before me fought to dismantle the need for. Part of me feels guilty, but more than that I’m tired because I have been working since 7 o’clock, telling stories from my childhood to men who believe they know what love is, who have recognized it in my small act.

We reach the event late. In the coat-check lineup, I am a performance, stripping off my everyday clothes to reveal the bikini I had been sweating in an hour before. The balding men love this. They chew and swallow and then we go inside. We find space on the dance floor, taking turns keeping them interested. While she dances with them, I let my jaw go slack and my eyes close, allowing my movements to drive me – present rather than presenting. At work, this body moves to its intent, defined by its profitability. Here, this body moves through space and time and even memories. And then we switch, and I am performing for the balding men, but this time, for free. 

I cannot be consumable for long, or I risk chewing away the parts of myself that don’t sell. The balding men dance and we monitor them, waiting for an opportunity to slip away. When they are full of drugs and us, we become whole again, cocooning ourselves in a bathroom stall, our bare asses touching the frigid tile. I hold her hand and she tells me about the first time she was raped. 

“I think it makes us better at our work,” she says. I ask what she means and she responds,

“Having been abused.”

I think that maybe she’s right. Everyday, we confront the limits of our comfort until, at some point, we don’t recognize them, or ourselves, anymore. At some point, getting into the Uber XL feels like going to sleep and getting raped feels like waking up. Our boundaries are informed by our bodies ability to take and pretend. More than this, we’ve seen the worst and we know to expect it. We are not surprised when the men in your life touch us with cold hands, fiending for a person who is neither of us, who doesn’t exist. We are only sorry for you – the you that shines blue on his phone when he sets it on the table–the you we know he wishes were just a little more consumable. In some ways, we are more sorry for ourselves because we’ll never be able to go back to a time where we don’t know again. Unless we are dancing, slack-jawed, with our eyes closed. 

CatsMTL

A Voice for Invisible Workers​

A Voice for Invisible Workers

Interview with Crystal Laderas from SWAN Vancouver

Latsami & Adore Goldman

SWAN (Supporting Women’s Alternatives Network) Vancouver is an organization that promotes the rights, health, and safety of im/migrant women engaged in indoor sex work through frontline services and systemic advocacy in Greater Vancouver since 2002. Latsami and Adore from SWAC interviewed Crystal Laderas, the communication manager at SWAN, to know more about the challenges im/migrant sex workers face in their daily life as well as their demands as an organization.

SWAC: Your organization denounces how immigration laws target sex workers and how it puts them at risk. Can you explain how these laws harm sex workers?

Crystal: We recently had a woman telling us that because of the immigration ban on sex work, she barely goes out. So outside of work, she doesn’t want to tell people what she does. She even lies to them because she’s not comfortable with that. So she just stays away from all social situations and isolates herself at all times in order not to be detected, and that’s sort of how the immigration and refugee protection regulations are impacting migrant’s lives.

It bans all temporary residents like international students or somebody on a tourist visa from working at a strip club, massage business, or escort service. If you’re caught, you’re deported. This leaves people constantly on edge. If you get into a situation where you’re attacked and you want to call the police, they would run your ID and it would automatically get reported to the CBSA.

You want to go to the pharmacy to get some medication, but then they ask too many questions and they could report you to the CBSA too, and you’d be deported for trying to get some basic health care. 

There are extreme cases too where you’re working at a massage business, and it gets raided by police during a trafficking investigation. There are often two outcomes for the women: say that you’re a trafficked victim, or CBSA is called to deport them as criminals. So these workers lose basic rights like access to justice and even human interaction because of some of these laws.

SWAC: What are some of the specificities related to the Asian community of sex workers you’re working with? What are their needs?

Crystal: I think a lot of their needs are just kind of based on accessing services, but a lot of the mainstream services are just not available to them. So for example, our outreach team answers a lot of calls from women who are trying to find low-barrier access to family doctors and pharmacies. We offer services in English, Cantonese, and Mandarin. So the women often ask SWAN to come with them for a health appointment so we can do translation. This is normal in the Asian and newcomer communities to have a loved one coming with you. But because the topic of working comes up in the middle of that health appointment, they prefer to have SWAN staff there with them doing the translation, so they don’t get outed to their family. Also, the staff helps with making sure the healthcare workers aren’t asking questions that they shouldn’t be to make sure that work doesn’t come up and that their immigration status doesn’t come up. We know that some health care providers also receive anti-trafficking training and again, that could result in a call to the CBSA. 

We also get a lot of calls and questions about labor-related issues, and that’s where we hit some roadblocks. So if a woman’s manager is late on paying them, they’ve been scheduled for hours that they didn’t initially agree to, or they just have some dispute with a co-worker, they call us. We can try to work on solutions with them, but because the workplace is criminalized, there’s really nothing more that we can do because they can’t be protected under provincial labor regulations. At that point, if we can’t find solutions within the system, we just listen. We’re there for emotional support because sometimes, they just want somebody to talk to about this and it’s not something they can always talk to their friends about.

We’ve been accused of being traffickers just for doing normal, simple translation services that a lot of Asian and newcomer communities do for their loved ones. It’s just different in this case because they can’t have their loved ones there. So, we do have to push back on healthcare workers if they’re asking a little bit too much about the woman’s work or even status and things like that too. Like, is this absolutely necessary for this person’s health? That could keep them from being deported.

SWAC: Your organization is very critical of the sex trafficking narrative. Can you explain why viewing migrant sex workers as victims is problematic?

Crystal: It’s really frustrating because it ties into a lot of anti-trafficking narratives and how they target Asian sex workers. A lot of those campaigns or enforcement branches of the law are really driven by racist stereotypes. There’s a lot of sensationalism that’s making money off of fears and racist ideas about who’s the victim and who’s the bad guy. There’s a savior complex and religious influence and moral stuff. It’s just like a mixed bag of bullshit! 

They decide who a victim is based on race, immigration status, or country of origin and not actual victimization. It’s as if they’ll push somebody who has been assaulted on the street out of the way so that they can kick down the door of a massage business and rescue Asians who don’t need your help, didn’t ask for your help and are just on shift right now wondering what the hell you’re doing here. 

We really have to constantly point out that it’s not just white middle-class people who have the ability to consent to sex work, but the opposing narrative is that these women lack agency, they are powerless or are easily tricked. I think overall, the narrative is sort of a disguise created to hide what these groups are really doing, which is trying to stop a couple of adults from having sex in exchange of money, which is no one’s business.

SWAC: With all the evidence we have today and all the sex workers sharing their stories and raising their voices, why do you think the government and also society at large don’t want to change and don’t seem to want to talk about it or to hear us?

Crystal: I think at the core, it comes down to these really long-held moralistic views in our society that are outdated and sexist. The people influencing the laws have a moral agenda, and laws have been shaped by societal views, and in turn, those laws influence society, and then there’s this horrible cycle that lasts for centuries. We saw this with the recent constitutional challenge. The Ontario Superior Court justice, in his decision, wrote that “sex work is inherently exploitative” (which we know is not true). He cited Canada’s sex work laws and really echoed the arguments that were written into the preamble of the law. The preamble talks about “human dignity and social harm caused by the objectification of the human body”. We know that former conservative Minister of Justice, Peter MacKay wrote that law and that preamble. It’s as if he was there during the first exchange of money for sex,  writing with a quill pen, saying “hmm… ”. 

It’s so archaic and outdated, yet this is what shapes the law, and that law influences the public perception. I guess other than that it’s just maybe easier for the public to believe everybody is exploited than it is to accept that sex workers have a choice in doing this job.

SWAC: It’s interesting that it just keeps reinforcing the cycle because of the law; so a  judge can easily say “Oh yeah, according to the law, it says that so it’s that” you know.

Crystal: Yeah “It must be fact!”. The law was written by somebody who had their own moral agenda, and they made it very obvious in the writing of the preamble. If you heard somebody speaking like that in public or an institution, or at a restaurant, you’d be like,  “What? Where is this coming from? Why is this person telling these people what to do with their own work and their own business?” 

SWAC: Migrant sex workers occupy a special place at the intersection of the migrant workers’ movement and the SWers’ movement. Is it a challenge to navigate this intersection? Have you been able to create solidarity between both movements?

Crystal: To be honest it has been really difficult because it just kind of feels like we don’t really fit anywhere. But the truth is, just like how there’s racism in the broader society, there’s also racism within the movements. So we have run into people who say “Oh, we don’t do outreach at the massage businesses because all those women are trafficked”. That’s the same racist narratives that we just talked about being repeated.

There’s also a dominant “out and proud” approach to sex work advocacy and I’m really grateful for all the activists and organizations who do this, but it does not work for the women we support. Having face-driven advocacy is not possible. I’m talking to you because I’m not a sex worker, I’m a Canadian citizen and my first language is English. Those are privileges that allow me to speak. We’re always trying to find low-barrier ways for the women to participate in our advocacy, and I can tell you that they have a lot to say, but they don’t want to be the face of a movement, they don’t want to be on camera, they don’t even want their voice recorded. 

So we have been putting effort into migrant communities and alliances with them, we’ve been speaking at rallies, etc. But sex work can be new and uncomfortable for that crowd as well, and it’s important to remember that many of them can come from countries where sex work is highly criminalized; there are very harsh penalties for doing it and so that has created a lot of cultural stigmas. We try to say that these migrant sex workers are migrant workers too. They’re international students, they’re mothers, they tried to work at hotels or in hospitality where they faced racism and exploitation and left; they live in fear of deportation and family separations. So even though the work is unfamiliar, those are very common experiences and emotions felt by a lot of migrant communities. We know it’s going to take some time and understanding. We have a common goal, so we’re hoping that by fighting immigration policies rooted in racism, they can understand that and we can collectively change things. But it’s a very interesting intersection to find yourself in.

SWAC: New Zealand is often shown as the decriminalization model. Yet, 20 years later, migrant sex workers still can’t work legally. What strategy should be implemented so that the same thing doesn’t happen in Canada? 

Crystal: Yeah, it’s a tough question. What happened in New Zealand wasn’t full decriminalization, as migrants are still banned from doing sex work and they face some of the same problems and risks as they would if they were working here. So I’ll just give an example: when SWAN spoke to the House of Commons committee [on the Status of Women for its study on human trafficking] this past summer, politicians admitted many of them hadn’t even heard about the migrant ban on sex work. So we have to really drive down these messages over and over and over again. Whatever the place, we do advocacy everywhere we are because even if Canada’s prostitution laws were repealed, migrants would still face the same risks. It wouldn’t change much for any of them. They could still be deported, they could still be held at the immigration detention center here in Surrey, for an indefinite amount of time, not provided a translator, traumatized, not knowing if they’re going to see their kids again. But I would just say that New Zealand was definitely a learning experience and that can’t happen here.

1. Canada Border Services Agency. ↩

2. Government of Canada. (2014). “Preamble”, Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act, from https://tinyurl.com/pcepacanada ↩

3. To learn more about SWAN appearances at the committee: SWAN Vancouver. (2023). SWAN Vancouver speaks to House of Commons Committee, from  https://tinyurl.com/swanvancouver ↩

CatsMTL

The Power Wielded by Cities

The Power Wielded by Cities: Striving for Local Resistance

By Celeste Ivy and Melina May
Translation by Adam Hill

The criminalisation of sex work falls under “Canadian” federal jurisdiction, but the criminal code’s Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act is applied by law enforcement, judges, and tribunals of the Canadian provinces. It is also this set of laws that allows for the setting up of victim rescue projects across several territories. In 2014, when the law had just been passed, Harper’s administration pledged 20 million dollars to the fight against human trafficking; a bit less than a half would go to applying the law and the rest to agencies and organizations providing services to those wanting to leave the industry.   

Although cities do not have the power to directly criminalize sex work, several municipal governments and district councils seek to control and limit certain aspects. In this article, we want to expose the power that cities wield over our working conditions. We also want to propose local organizing among SWers: a fight within our neighborhoods and our cities would allow for forms of resistance that are more direct, decentralized, and spontaneous. We will set out examples of repressive municipal regulations in Montreal, Laval, Toronto, and Edmonton: zoning regulations that threaten to make our spaces of work disappear, mandatory licensing in certain cities, and consequences of this on SWers’ integrity and security. We will also explore the birth and implementation of John Schools in Canada, presented as an alternative to the current criminal model that targets a particular demographic of clients. We will conclude by putting forward several strategies of organization and local action. 

Gabor Szilasi, Club Supersexe et Cinéma Palace, Montréal 1979

Urban Zoning: a Constant Threat to our Workplaces!

Increasingly, municipal governments are making use of zoning and urban planning regulations in order to target and shut down our workplaces. Although these regulations are formulated as if designed to guard against public disturbances and to ensure public health and security, we maintain that their aim is rather to undermine the working conditions of SWers and to “sanitize” cities of troubling, visible prostitution. This strategy also contributes to the larger process of gentrification.

During the 2007 Rendez-Vous Montréal Métropole Culturelle, the city of Montreal and the Ville-Marie district presented the Programme particulier d’urbanisme du Quartier des Spectacles as the outline of plans for the urban renewal of Place des arts. The primary motivation of the urban transformations initiated by this program was to visually sanitize the Quartier des spectacles, historically the Red Light District, center of Montreal’s entertainment and sex work, supposedly with the aim of reviving a “dead” neighborhood. These attempts at clearance date back to the 1950s, when the then mayor Jean Drapeau launched multiple political campaigns and urban renovation projects aimed at revamping the neighborhood.There was a distinct irony in the political discourse that claimed to want to make Montreal a more lively and cultural city: the Quartier des spectacles was already a cultural center, but in a form that the municipality preferred to erase. Confronted by the literal destruction of their place of work and increased street-level surveillance, SWers were forced to relocate to neighborhoods where their presence would be less visible to the authorities and where finding clients would be more difficult. 

Among the tactics adopted by district councils and municipal governments, the tightening in the issuance of business licenses has proved effective in closing massage palours and strip clubs. In Montreal, this strategy formed part of the electoral promises of Coderre’s administration when he came to power in 2013. If this tactic was not successful, several districts of Montreal have, since then, adopted measures to get rid of massage parlors in their neighborhoods. Since 2017, the Rosemont-La-Petite-Patrie district no longer grants commercial occupancy permits to businesses suspected of seeking to open erotic massage parlors. Following this decision, eight massage parlors have seen their business license revoked, forcing them to close down shop. This tightening of licensing was proposed by the mayor of Projet Montréal, which goes to show that the erasure of our workplaces is a project that rallies the left as much as the right. In September 2023, the district announced their intention to pursue legal proceedings up to the Superior Court in order to shut down the last erotic massage parlor in their jurisdiction, Spa Bamboo. This parlor had appealed the decision in 2017 and continued its activities. In Laval, since 2018, massage parlors and strip clubs are banned across the whole jurisdiction except within the industrial zone at a maximum of five establishments, which are not allowed to display any signage or advertising. Such municipal measures explain the disappearance of clubs across Quebec at large: fifteen years ago there were 220 establishments in the province, now there are no more than 60. In Toronto, the Division of Municipal Licensing & Standards allows only 63 adult entertainment licensing in its jurisdiction since the 1970s. Zoning laws and the procedure for applying for an exception, which costs between $100,000 and $250,000, make the opening or relocating of these clubs almost impossible.     

We have all met a SWer who dreamed of opening their own establishment, offering better working conditions and increasing inclusivity, but the stubbornness of this municipal sanitizing prevents the industry from developing ethically. Andrea Werhun, author of the memoir Modern Whore and social worker at Maggie’s, a pro-SWer activist project in Toronto, speaks to this same point: 

I dream of a world where women or people who are sex-worker allies are running these clubs, and creating the type of environment where people feel both entertained but also fulfilled on a meaningful level, where they’re like, ‘Oh, this is just, like, a really great entertainment complex where people are enjoying themselves’

If these measures undermine the owners of clubs that already exist, the opening of new clubs by a woman or allies with fewer resources and administrative connections is basically impossible, which is in itself anti-feminist. 

Cities make use, therefore, of their zoning and urban renewal powers in order to close our workplaces and to push us further and further from city centers towards industrial neighborhoods, which are less  well-lit and more isolated. The decrease in the number of our workplaces and their lack of regulation also increases competition between employees and the power held by employers. An activist with SWAC and dancer explains the following: “Dances at my club are still priced at $10 because there are not many strip clubs and the managers let anyone come in at any time, which means there are so many girls on the floor and so much competition.” The closure of massage parlors and strip clubs will not put an end to the need to work for many. Forced out of our workplaces, many of them will turn to working from their home or outcalls. This further isolates us and puts us at greater risk of assault.

Picture from the industrial zone in Laval from Google Earth Pro
Art by @heatofthenow

Licenses to Work:  a Means to Control and a Threat to Security

In certain Canadian cities and provinces, for example Ontario and Edmonton, SWers in lawful spaces need to obtain a license in order to prove their age and work in a massage parlor or strip club. Although these licenses serve, inter alia, to inhibit access for minors to these spaces, they are also a means to control, weaken, and surveil SWers.

In May 2022, the city of Newmarket in Ontario adopted a new classification of licenses for massage parlor employees in an effort to curb the sex industry. As a result of the new measure, owners are obliged to prove that employees offering massage services received training at an accredited institution. The city’s mayor explained this decision as follows: “I think we really just want to drive [the sex trade] out of our town, quite frankly, […] I don’t think it’s consistent with the values of our town.” 

 

A petition launched by Butterfly, an organization that defends the rights of migrant and Asian SWers in Toronto denounced the measure as “perpetuat[ing] systemic racism and undue hardship by preventing non-English speaking, low-income, Asian women from working in [personal wellness establishments]”. Following this decision, several businesses were forced to close overnight leaving many women and families without means of subsistence.

In Ontario, dancers are also required to obtain a license to work legally. SWers with criminal records and im/migrant SWers without permanent residency cannot apply for this license, which pushes them into work situations that are all the more precarious and criminalized. In Edmonton, massage parlor and agency employees must also obtain a license to work. Even if the physical copy of these licenses do not include any personal data, this data can nonetheless be accessed by employers, which threatens the integrity and security of SWers. In an open letter to the city hall, ANSWERS, an organization that defends the rights of SWers in Edmonton, denounced the harmful effects of such a measure: there are many cases of employers and/or colleagues disclosing sensitive personal information to SWer’s family, civil employer, or landlord. The obligation to share personal information with employers is not only dangerous, it is also redundant because SWers receive payment directly from clients.

The stigmatization experienced by SWers is also anchored in the introduction of work licenses; they are treated as a danger to public health. These licenses are a way for municipal officials and police to control SWers more effectively, without concretely offering support services for risk reduction or for safe working conditions. These forms of legislation are born out of a vision that is anti-SWer, in which SWers are perceived as a threat to public health and therefore need authoritarian surveillance. Those SWers working within the majority of legal contexts conform to standards set in place by the employer. This undermines the possibility of unionizing since the autonomy of SWers is heavily restricted and any consideration of working conditions is pushed further to the side. The actual needs of SWers in terms of their general security, harm reduction, and the improvement of their working conditions are ignored.

 

John Schools: a Moralizing Boot-Camp 

In May 2022, the city of Longueuil put in place a pilot project financed by the Ministry of Justice designed to entrap clients and impose reeducation upon them by way of John Schools. Clients that were arrested by the police for the first time would have to pay $1000 and commit themselves to an eight-hour long course during which multiple speakers would lecture them and explain to them the dangers of the sex industry. The former police chief of Longueuil and current head of the Montreal City Police Service, Fady Dagher, explained how the course plays out: the clients come face-to-face with a young victim who explains to them “how she feels abused, […] how many drugs she has to take to get through her day, and how times she faked [an orgasm].” These programs refuse to consider SWers as actors in their own story. The offensive discourse that they expound foregrounds the popular narrative according to which SWers are passive victims that need saving, all whilst being presented as alternative justice programs. 

The John School concept emerged in the 90s in San Francisco. The proponents of these programs defend them as an alternative to the punitive criminal model that remains ineffective, supposedly redirecting clients in a different direction. These programs can take several different forms, but at their core they offer the following choice to clients who have been arrested: commit to a day-long course or go before the tribunal, which would mean the risk of being found guilty and being given a criminal record. The programs are also designed to handle as many offenders as possible outside of the traditional system and therefore at the lowest possible cost. 

The first John School in Canada dates back to 1996 in Toronto. Around this time, a growing number of citizens, concerned for their security and quality of life, began to put pressure on politicians, legislators, and the police to take action on street prostitution in their neighborhood. In 1995, a local committee on prostitution was formed, consisting of police officers, social workers, and local councilors. The setting up and running of the first John School pilot project was taken on by the Salvation Army, which is, unsurprisingly, also involved in probation and conditional release programs for the Canadian penal system. Originally, participation in the program was free, clients were invited to contribute via donations to an exit program for street-based SWers. Since the donations were insufficient, the Streetlight Support Services agency took over administrative control of the John School program, and introduced a mandatory participant registration fee of $400, of which 100% of the profits went to supporting the administration and mission of the agency.     

These programs targeted and controlled a certain type of client: “the men diverted to the ‘John School’ tend to be working class, visible minority and English as Second Language (ESL) immigrants with comparably low levels of education and income levels.” It would be factually inaccurate to suggest that this is a representative cross section of men that pay for sexual services in Canada. Instead, it seems clear that John Schools serve to punish a certain fringe of the industry’s clientele, those from poorer and more marginalized socio-economic groups. 

Certain programs in Canada are still supported today by Christian associations such as the Salvation Army. This non-profit organization, renowned for its murky past and homophobic practices, now has the power to interfere with the sex industry, extracting profit from it and exercising forms of control. These programs use moral panic about human trafficking to distract attention from the actual needs and concerns expressed by SWers themselves. 

These programs have nothing close to do with restorative justice, as some current programs claim to defend themselves. Instead of offering an alternative to the criminalization of sex work, the John School model expands the scope of control and surveillance of sex work to non-governmental agencies.

For Workplaces Without Police: Local-level Resistance! 

Keeping track of municipal politics becomes extremely important, even in the ideal context of decriminalization, because they constitute one of the principal regulatory mechanisms that govern the lives of SWers. A good example of the reach of their power is the city of Campbell River, which, several days before the start of the three-year pilot project that decriminalized the possession of drugs in British Columbia, adopted a new municipal regulation that sought to impose a fine on those who consumed drugs in public spaces.

In the face of constant threat from city governments, we must reflect upon strategies that can be put in place to protect our workplaces. In an extensive study of working conditions among dancers in the United Kingdom, the authors concluded their article by highlighting the potential that the granting of business licenses could have on defining workplace standards in the sex industry. According to Lo Stevenson, “[i]f these standards were negotiated with organized sex workers, adequately reflecting their needs and concerns, such a regime could not only increase autonomy and solidarity for sex workers, but also reduce reliance on costly and time-consuming litigation.” Putting pressure on local and licensing authorities, for example during city council meetings, to demand that business permits accord with our wishes or to block attempts by city governments to close our workplaces, could represent an interesting means of action.

 Profiling, particularly of Asian women, during the inspection of massage parlors is a well-known tactic. In solidarity with our migrant colleagues who face constant targeting by the police, we should demand that the city of Montreal as well as the multiple other sanctuary cities in Canada make good on the commitments they have made towards those with this status and cease their collaboration with border services deporting SWers whether or not they have legal status. In Montreal, the collaboration between the police and Canadian Border Services Agency makes recourse to the protection of the police next to impossible for migrant SWers who are victims of criminal acts and abuse. 

Although public health arguments are often mobilised to defend the criminalisation of sex work, we believe that decriminalization could support the reduction in the transmission of illnesses transmitted sexually or through the blood. In the current context in which clients are considered to be criminals, it is difficult for SWers to gain the necessary information from their clients, because they are even more reluctant to go through a filtering process generally put in place by SWers. Communication with our clients, not tarnished by fear of the authorities, would significantly help reduce risks for both parties involved. If clients could share their personal information with less fear of arrest, SWers could better choose their clients. This is why the Canadian municipalities involved must bring to an end the application of the federal law that criminalizes the sex industry as well as their punitive John School programs. The resources this would free up should be reinvested in community organizations that offer support and harm reduction services directly to SWers. 

CatsMTL

Ground Score Diaries

Ground Score Diaries

By Jesse Dekel

When we learn about a colleague’s death, we generally don’t need to know the circumstances to know it’s a violent one. I’m not necessarily talking about the kind of violence that ends up on a true crime podcast or the front page of the Journal de Montréal. Although these stories do exist, there are often multitudes of them that are never talked about; deaths that occur after a series of traumas and injustices; a series of month-ends, filthy apartments and crooked landlords; a series of closed doors, access counters, and waiting lists. Death by despair.

I recently lost a friend. There are those friendships that are made amid struggle, and there’s something different about them. You know that no matter what, there will always be that common experience connecting you. That’s how it was with Jesse.

Our first interaction was at a meeting of the Sex Work Autonomous Committee. Back then, it wasn’t called that. In fact, the project didn’t yet have a name. Melina May and I had put out a call for mobilization, and this was the second meeting we’d organized. We didn’t really know what we wanted to do, and I don’t even know if we believed in it ourselves. We had a bit of impostor syndrome. But now we could say there were three of us, and that counted for a lot!

Jesse wasn’t afraid to speak up for SWers. She didn’t do it because she loved her job, but because she wanted to organize with her colleagues to improve her working conditions. She didn’t care about charity; for her, we had no time to lose. We had to be political if we wanted to make gains that would improve our lives!

I remember the first action we organized with SWAC on May 1st, 2021. It was she and I who led it. We were speaking out against the curfew, the total lack of consideration for SWers during the COVID-19 health crisis, and the repression. Jesse confided in me that it had been her happiest day of 2021. She continued to get involved despite her return to New Zealand during the summer of 2021 and the 18-hour time difference.

The last time I spoke to Jesse was the day Carole Leigh died. Carole Leigh was the first person to define herself as a sex worker. Jesse had posted in her story a photo of her encounter with her a few years earlier when she was living in San Francisco. I had replied to her story because I was impressed; to me, Carole Leigh was a legend in terms of hooker activism. I’d asked Jesse if she wanted to talk soon. She said she was going to Auckland that week, but we could call the following week. In the end, she and Carole Leigh passed away the same week.

I think we must remember when we lose people. I think one way Jesse would have liked us to honor her life is for us to continue the whore resistance and not compromise.

A few weeks before she passed, Jesse sent me a manuscript of her diaries from her time in San Francisco. She wanted to publish them. I told her I’d give her a hand with proofreading and sending it out to publishers. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time. So I’m taking the liberty of publishing a few excerpts here.

Adore Goldman

Zine from Jesse Dekel distributed on June 2nd at International Sex Worker's Day

05.12.18

Sleep was shit, I kept waking up uncomfortably, and frustratingly at every move.

Early in the morning, I left Angel’s apartment because she had to be somewhere at 8, and I took a bus to the HSRC. I got there at 9, and Rose was late and came at 9:50, instead of 9:30, so I just sat down looking at dog shit for a while.

The Cole Street Clinic is this incredibly overt friendly LGBT friendly place, with a crapload of free snacks (of which I helped myself dearly), and the most patient staff. Unfortunately, I am not patient. And I spent a total of like 3 and a half hours there, sitting in various waiting rooms, and saw a total of 3 doctors and case managers.

I talked about everything case managers usually ask about. Being homeless, suicide attempts, drugs, being undocumented, etc. There was a lot of talking. I did a urine test, and a TB test (finally), and checked my weight, which was something around 149 pounds/67 kgish. I guess I’ve gained 5 kg since I got to America. Being homeless means being well fed, or I’m just over-eating because of the scarcity of available food? I don’t know. I still had to do the urine STI test even though I told the doc about my lack of sex. Ugh.

Eventually, I got the American prescriptions, and a new sleeping med prescription because Zopiclone is non-existent in the States, or something.

I was there way too long and spent so much time fucking around on Shazam, it was so boring and stressful. The case manager printed out 50 pages of my medical record. Euggh.

Because it went on for so long, and I had a job interview at 2, they called a Lyft for me, and I got to my interview at New Door 5 minutes early.

New Door is like a hip, trying to be youthful, cool place-zone-area. The interview mostly consisted of really personal questions (confidential, don’t worry!) about legal history, drug history, etc. Super weird. I answered them all. There’s a two-week stipend-paid orientation starting January, and a follow-up interview next week. So that means I think I ‘got’ the job, though I think everyone does because it’s literally an unemployment program.

I walked straight to the San Francisco General Hospital, which didn’t help me at all because I have no travel insurance, and then walked to a Safeway, where I was told my concerta would cost $600 USD, and my hormones $120. Fuck. So I left after trying to call my travel insurance and failing to sort it out.

I’m so frustrated with this all.

I ate at a shitty sandwich store and bussed to the Haight to go to the Homeless Youth Alliance needle exchange because I wanted a sleeping bag and fentanyl strip tests. Luckily, I bumped into Rose, who took me to Sonya. I was so happy to see her. I like her so much. She’s so great. I really like the way I feel around her. I ramble. She’s fucking great.

Afterward, I headed to HYA and got the fentanyl strip tests, sleeping bag, and snacks. I asked about hormones and was taken to a nurse/doctor room thing, and told about some resources from a couple of really helpful people who were really supportive. I’m exhausted by how nice people are to me. So much niceness.

I left and walked around looking for a sidewalk to crash on. Some dude, Randy, told me there’s a rule where we can’t sleep/lie down until 11 pm. He also had this joke. What’s the difference between Medford’s tea, and a bottle of piss? They’re both a bottle of piss.

Medford is this German guy who gives out food to homeless people, including tea. What a sweetheart.

I found a little alcove in front of a kitschy storefront and across the street from ‘The R Tours’. This is where I lie in my blue sleeping bag and sleep on the sidewalk.

I had dinner at a taco shop and brushed my teeth/washed my face/did my nightly routine in their store bathroom.

I will sleep on the ground in my warm, blue sleeping bag.

Jesse's collage

06.12.18

I woke up multiple times in the night, the first time to go on a tempered, agile, pee mission. And the second time, to pee on a tree 20 meters away from my sleeping bag.

It was a nice sleep except for that.

When I woke up,  I didn’t need to get dressed obviously, so I just bussed to Tom Weddel’s place. Some Russian guy (by his self-proclamation) ranted to me and was super racist, so I argued with him. He also said he gets all his free money + stamps through SSI (Social Security Insurance) and made a weird comment about New Zealand’s meth.

I waited almost an hour at the clinic, even though I was the first to arrive 15 minutes before opening because I am an idiot and didn’t go to the right place. I met a couple of doctors, Shannon and Doctor Zabin, the latter who sorted some hormone stuff, and wrote a letter for me to give the SF General Pharmacy about signing up to SF city insurance or something like that.

A doctor gave me a bunch of fentanyl strip tests, and Doctor Zabin asked me to learn how to administer Narcan, a drug given to people overdosing on opioids. So another nurse took me to a room, and gave me a quick demo and explanation, and gave me Narcan, and registered me as a Narcan carrier on the database. So now I have a bunch of clean needles in my possession, fentanyl strips, and a tab of acid.

We tested a tiny sliver of the acid for fentanyl. I put on gloves and cut that sliver off with teeny scissors. Luckily, there was no fentanyl, and I am just a crazy person.

After that, I walked to Thomas’ apartment and picked up my contacts, and the bag I was storing there. He had a friend over, who told me about some trans and undocumented persons’ resources. I used his bathroom to brush my teeth etc, left some items to donate, and then headed off to the HSRC.

I ate lots of food and talked to Sonya and Rose. Camila offered me a job as a youth representation during an intern interview, paid via gift cards, and I accepted. So an hour after closing, I stayed back and participated in an awkward yelly interview, which mostly consisted of people questioning the interviewee about whether she had ever been homeless and if not (not), how would she be able to relate and connect with homeless kids. There were lots of neighborhoods repping and posturing. It was uncomfortable. I asked the obligatory ‘do you have any transgender friends’ query that I was probably brought in to ask, and she said no.

I got my gift cards and talked to Camila, Rose, and Sonya about the Jazzys shelter. They may have a bed tomorrow night. So I’m meeting Sonya at 10:30 am at HSRC tomorrow, and heading to Jazzys. I’m thinking about getting into sex work. It sounds like a good way to make money in my position, but I don’t really know. I talked to Sonya about it, and she said she doesn’t recommend it but can provide me with good resources, should I decide to.

So I decided to go to the SF General, and Angel said they are open till 7 pm. I got some laundry money and took a half-hour bus there. Angel was wrong. They close at 5 pm. It was 5:20 pm. So I decided to go to the SF LGBT center because I thought it would be open. I was wrong, the youth program closed at 6 pm. It was 6:15 pm. So I headed to the Contemporary Jewish Museum and spent $5 for an exhibition. It was pretty nice, there was one of a Jewish tattoo artist called ‘Lew the Jew’ and one on Jewish clothes. There was also an embroidery workshop, and I embroidered a gold thread through a flower.

I accidentally stole a bunch of food from a private event. I had no idea it was a private event until I ate everything. I feel kind of bad about it. I think it was a retirement party for a sweet old Jewish lady.

I decided to stay at a hostel. So I went on Agoda and booked a $30 night at Amsterdam Hostel. Walking there, I saw a massive line in front of Gamestop. People waiting for the new Smash Bros game, Super Smash Bros Ultimate. I got to Amsterdam Hostel and excitedly jumped into the shower until I realized it’s fucking broken I couldn’t even use it as a bath because there is no bath plug. So I used the lower bath tap while lathering soapy water on, and splashing myself upwards for like 30 minutes. It was fucking stupid. Ugh. I’m stupid.

12.12.18

I feel so fucking tired of all this shit. I went to the HSRC today yada yada yada. Talked to Sonya. 

I printed off some resumes that were tailored to hospitality jobs and dropped them off at a couple of places. We walked by an art exhibition of blot sheets and saw some Alex Gary-type murals on them.

We hung out at the LGBT center, and I played Fire Emblem and watched Blue Planet 2. Then I headed to St. James Infirmary. The sex workers’ infirmary. I met with a harm reduction counselor, who I talked to about hormones and sex work. I am so lethargic, and my right nostril feels rough and sore, for seemingly no reason.

 

Jesse's collage

I got to the St. James Infirmary and took the elevator to the 4th floor where I checked in with a receptionist and filled out a bunch of forms. After that, I waited in a social room where some gay Robin Williams movie was playing, and there was free food and clothes with a ‘you try it on, you keep it’ policy. I grabbed a couple of croissants and a ‘non-store’ food bag. Someone complimented my necklace, and I talked to a worker about the new Smash game. People were nice. I was given a number to wait (54) for my doctor/counselor, and after 15 minutes or so, she came out to get me. The door to the meeting space wouldn’t open, so she asked me to go sit back down and came to get me again a few minutes later.

She asked me all about what was going on. “You’re undocumented, trans, trying to get hormones, and homeless”. She said it was going to be really tough in San Francisco. Really tough. She warned me.

I asked her how to get into sex work and she told me. She asked if I was scared, and I told her I was scared of the cops catching me and deporting me more than anything. She said that wouldn’t happen. She told me to ask for cash upfront. And to always be nice. I need to dress up. And wear heels. And a mini skirt.

We talked about access to hormones, and she said that I should probably just pay for them. She also told me about where I can go to find sex work, and what to expect in terms of rates, and what to do. She told me what to wear, and how to get clients. She said that I’m young and trans and that I can sell that. I just need to work.

I asked for sex worker resources, and she asked me if I have ever done sex work before. I said no, and she told me all about it. She told me what to expect, where to go, and how to make sure I get paid.

She gave me heels, and her card and said “I worry about you.” and “I hope this city doesn’t swallow you up.” and “But you can do it.” She is a 60-year-old trans woman from Australia who worked as a showgirl in Vegas in the 80’s.

I left feeling lethargic and couldn’t get Google Maps to work properly so I walked after failing to find the 2nd bus stop.

I feel tired and stupid and shit. I can’t write properly. I keep making mistakes. Nothing is changing. I just want to play video games all day. I don’t want to be here. I am sick of this place. I don’t know what to do. I have no motivation. I hate this all. What am I supposed to do??? I hate this. Should I leave? This reminds me of when I was homeless in Wellington. I thought to myself “I’m struggling so hard to find a place here, but I don’t even see why this place is worth it. I hate it. It’s not so special”. That’s what I’m feeling again. Why the fuck am I in San Francisco?

Jesse's collage

09.03.19

Today, I finally continued my e-payments account verification and tried out camming.

It was really difficult at first, but slowly, after broadcasting for an hour in total, I got 11 viewers at once. People would comment saying my lips are sexy, and DM me. One guy became my ‘room moderator’ for a while, and gave me advice on ‘teasing’. He sent me a GIF of him stroking his cock. I really liked the attention, and honestly was semi-hard the whole time, despite being fully clothed. I got out the fake plastic DUREX practice penis [stolen from the doctor’s office] and blew it. I only got 1 token, which is 5 cents in the hour, but I had two offers to meet older men, one in exchange for $200. I liked it a lot, and I need to get better at it. I have to learn how to properly use apps and bots, for my broadcast to function smoothly. I’ll try tomorrow.

Turns out I didn’t even need to verify my e-payments account and could have started earlier. I guess Monday. Fuck.

I really fucking like the sexual attention. I have never felt desired before.

One person joined my chat room and asked me how many inches I am. I replied saying I use the metric system, and he left.

Fun fun fun.

Other than that I mostly just watched anime, and worked on a ‘Top 10 Places To Cry’ joke article. I wonder if it will actually get accepted.

At 4:30 I left for Haight Street and checked out old action figures at Amoeba Records.

I bought a yellow long-sleeve mesh shirt for $10 at K-POK and talked to Frankie and Drew who were sitting at a spot nearby.

There is this really cool art exhibition of tiny baby CRT TVs running anime footage on loops at the Red Victorian. I want to make something like that.

I returned to the house and watched Berserk Arc 1 with Kat and Antoinette while sharing a fruit granola smoothie, and pizza. The movie was average compared to the 1997 anime.

Afterward, I studied HTML online for a while, and talked to my cousin Guy, wishing him happy birthday.

I am sick, and my lips are sore. I had a dream where I tried to memorize music and a comedy concept. There is something in my eye. I’m lonely except when I’m not. I’m sad except when I’m bored. I’m bored when I’m not stressed. I’m busy when I’m not organized. I’m a boring, stressed walking contradiction, with nothing to offer in a timely manner.

I canceled all today’s plans because I am a piece of shit, who sucks in terrible ways.

I need to study. I need to read. I need to write. I need to relax. I need…

Tomorrow I might buy a Nintendo Switch. If anything, it will give me things to write about. And jerking off for strangers online who compliment my titties’ potential to ‘fill out’.

I like sucking on the dildo-looking thing and looking salacious. I want people to want me. I hope I can get money because fuck, what I am doing being homeless. Ahhh… everything is weird, fuck.

I am an ugly regressive freak. I am hideous, I am disgusting. A gremlin. Ugly. Ugly. Freak. Gremlin.

Jesse's collage

23.03.19

This morning, I had my date with Kat. I think it went pretty well. We sat and talked at Coffee To The People for a couple of hours, and then walked up Haight. Checking out stores as we did.

I bought a zine DIY guide from Silver Sprocket.

The only thing that was off was when we passed by some Dirty Kids, like Misha, and Kat asked if I ‘volunteer’ with them. Which felt kind of condescending or something. I’m not exactly sure how to articulate this emotion/response. I still really enjoyed her company, and she’s very cute.

I jokingly said that her leather shoelaces were ‘very gay’ and she told me how she finds that kind of comment weird. Ahh.

I do like her though, and want to spend more time with her.

We went to the taco restaurant off Belvedere, but at 2:30 pm-ish she had to leave because her HIV-positive friend’s viral load was really high, and his nurse wasn’t there to help him.

After the date, I went home. And at 6 pm, I decided to go to this comic book store closing party/sale. It took 40 minutes to get there, and the place was packed full of obnoxious, loud American nerds standing in front of the comic book racks that I wanted to check out.

I ended up buying a Saga enamel pin that was 50% off for a total of $5. Then I left. The event was anxiety attack-inducing, and I didn’t see any comics for sale that I was interested in.

After that, I bussed to a McDonald’s that was also peak full and I gave up. Then I bussed home.

I watched a couple of episodes of Jojo, and at 11 pm I began broadcasting on Chaturbate.

In total, I made $32.25 worth of tokens. This guy named Al joined my chatroom and was dropping tips. At one point, he sent me his phone number and eventually convinced me to call while blocking caller ID.

I started talking to Al on the phone. He is a 35-year-old electrician who lives in Santa Clarita, and his birthday was March 17 or 18.

He only likes girls and said a lot of nice things about my lips.

I added a password to my broadcast, and he paid me tokens as I stripped and touched myself.

I had phone sex with him, while he jerked off.

After pretending to ride him, and do a couple of different positions, I masturbated until I came.

After that, he jerked off until he finished, and tipped me a total of 625 tokens, I think.

Good stuff. I am a sex worker.

The first time, I made 1 token. The second time, I made 100 tokens, and this third time, I made 625 tokens. I’m learning, hopefully.

07.04.19

This morning following 2 cancellations (one from Bualia, and one from that dude Dan who I met at Comix Experience), I decided to try to display and do tarot readings. At 11:45, I went on Haight to where Peaches, Curls, and Catfish were, and sat down facing a storefront with my display.

I was at it for 2 hours. Two crust punks came to ask if I’d seen their dogs and then were total jerks. One bought a pin off of me for 30 cents, and the other demanded a free reading followed by them both tag-teaming to lecture me on how to do readings. They stamped my sign, even when I asked them not to. Assholes.

I wrote (Hebrew) reading $5 on the sign, which in grammatically incorrect Hebrew transliteration means ‘butthole reading $5’. I made $7.32 in total. I did one reading. It sucked.

Jesse's collage

I gave up at 2 pm, and spent all the money I made and more on a slice of pizza, an Arizona, and nachos.

The two dudes who go around bare naked with those chastity things on walked past us. I told Curls that I’d spange them as a joke, and I did. “I don’t have any change on me. Where would I put it?”.

After that, I went home in time for a community meeting feat. pizza. I said that the house is fucking hot, and Cocoa teased by saying that it might be my hormones and asked if I was going through menopause.

Earlier in the day, she said that there was a drag show that we were invited to last night, but I said that I was “Incredibly high on cocaine” so couldn’t go. She laughed.

I watched Jojo, and at 9:30 pm went back out on the street. Peaches was tired, so went to crash, and I saw Toast. I went to a corner store to buy a fizzy drink and a man near me kept swearing/talking to himself loudly. I didn’t buy anything, and when I walked out after this guy, the store owner screamed at him, telling him to give back a can that he apparently stole. Toast told him to give it back, and the store owner told Toast to “Kick his fucking ass”. The guy said that it’s harassment and threatened to call the cops. Toast told him to “Get the fuck off of my block” and counted down from 5. A bus stopped because this guy was in the middle of the road, and then he banged on its door and said “Let me in, this guy is telling me to get off the block right now.” The bus let him in, and as it drove off, Toast ran with it and slapped the window yelling “I knew you’d listen. Bitch!” Wild.

Fuck mentally ill people? This world. Sucks. Fuck.

What a waste of a weekend.

At home I cammed, and the guy from Santa Clarita came back on my broadcast, and I phoned him. We organized a private show at 30 tokens per minute, in which I got naked and jerked off, but didn’t cum. He spent around 500 tokens on me, and when he ran out, we ended the call.

I finished camming after that.

Gaaaaaaaaah. Surely I can do more than jerk off and watch anime? No? Probably not then.

At least I got to do cocaine.

Jesse's collage

01.06.19

This morning I went to the Castro to sell a couple of books at Dog Eared Books, and to check out the historic gay synagogue Sha’ar Zahav. All the services were over at the temple, so it was a waste of time, and I only made $4 from the books.

I went home, and then at 5 pm, I went to the DSA office for the Socialist Feminist sign-making event. I got an email this morning from Lia saying that they nominated me as one of the new socialist feminism co-chairs, but obviously, I’m not going to do it if I skip town. So the whole sign-making event was awkward, as I didn’t want to bring it up.

I made a whole bunch of pins with the badge maker and signs that read “Sex Work Is Real Work” or “TERFS and SWERFS Fuck Off”, and had lots of fruits while I was at it.

Christian from the ILWU said he was going to a ILWU party, so I invited myself and took the 33 to the Mission with Lia. I told them that I’m going to Montreal. It went well.

I got to the Hilton hotel where the party was at 8:30 and met Kevin and this other guy from DSA. We went in, and I was instantly surrounded by the ruling class of rich liberal Democrats.

This fancy rich lady dropped a couple of prongs on the floor and walked away, so I told her, and she went back to pick them up. Hehe.

The party was really uncomfortable. Everyone was so rich, and I was so out of place. So much old money. Kevin and the other guy went with me to the fucking YIMBY party upstairs, and the security guard stopped me, asking if I was “at the right place” (regarding my attire), so I told him yes.

That party was fucking obtuse. There was a very impressively plastic surgeoned lady speaking to Kevin about how Bernie was trying to ‘whore her out’ or something, and the whole crowd of rich fucking yuppies made me want to vomit.

One guy lectured me on how trickle-down economics/housing equity is connected, and I wanted to cry. I was so out of place, and a bartender asked me to take off my bag because I knocked some serviettes off his table. There was free wine though.

It was so high in the tower, and the weird environment got boring. I went back downstairs and met Jennifer from the Tenants Union, and Kate-Mary from DSA. And Xavier from DSA. We went to a liquor store, and Jennifer bought me Anchor Steam beer. Then we headed to the Moscone Center on Howard and the 4th.

At one point, when I was leaving the YIMBY party, this DSA East Bay person in an elaborate transport system-themed dress decorated with political pins talked to me in the elevator. Also occupied by yuppies. I complained about being uncomfortable surrounded by rich people, and they said it’s an important skill in politics. Guh.

We got to the center and went to the Bernie 2020 party. Bernie Sanders had just left the conference. We drank, and I met up with Jen Snyder.

We went to a nurses’ party for free food and beers, and another party for the same. I got drunk, and Christian told me to email him about NZ sex workers’ unions, so he can talk to Bobby from ILWU about unionizing sex workers with this helpful info.

Jen Snyder and this political consultant Jim, and I fucked around and drank a lot. At one point, this liberal in a ‘Ruth Bader Badass’ shirt gave me shit for my ‘Nazi Punks Fuck Off’ shirt and said he didn’t think there were still Nazis, and that American History X was just a movie.

We got more drunk and laughed at the middle school prom playlist playing. Eventually, we got kicked out at closing time, and I saw the dude running against Pelosi who befriended me. He said he was reading poetry at the Mission and had vegetables thrown at him until he smoked weed with the throwers.

Jen got us a Lyft to the Haight, and I walked home from her house. What a weird fucking night.

03.06.19

Yesterday was the first day during the almost 7 months I’ve been in America that I didn’t write in my journal. It feels sort of shitty, but I’m also happy that the shtick went on for so long, straight.

So I guess I’ll just recite the events of the last two days.

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 9:30 and didn’t have enough time at all to shower, so I just put on my clothes and bussed to the DSA office to meet Lia so that they could give me a ride to the International Sex Workers Day event held at Oscar Grant Plaza, in Oakland.

Jay was there too, and we all loaded Lia’s car with DSA shit and drove to Oakland.

Jesse's collage

The event was great. I noticed that I had a big ass smile on my face half the time, and I just fucking loved feeling as though I was part of a community. I am a sex worker. I’m one of them. They are like me. It feels to me as though freelance sex work is lonely work, and community is hard to find, but being surrounded by all these fellow sex workers was so communal, kind, and caring.

Carol Leigh, aka Scarlet Harlett, the person who coined the term ‘sex work’, interviewed me about how anti-sex trafficking laws are oppressive and screw over sex workers, as well as lucrative multi-billion dollar businesses for Christian reactionary NGOs.

I gave out the sex workers’ zine at the DSA table to passersby and ate lots of bagels, strawberries, etc from the Coffee Not Cops stall.

After the event, Lia gave me a ride to Mission and 24th, and I had McDonald’s, then skated to the 33 bus stop at 16th and Mission. The bus took like a half hour to arrive, and I only stayed home for a minute before heading off to the St. James Infirmary fundraiser gala.

I was let in the fancy as fuck gala, that had security guards and ‘mixologists’ in tight shirts, and when Jay arrived, we snuck into the actual $200 ticket gala area.

Jennifer Holliday from Dream Girls sang, and it felt like a movie. Christina Aguilera was there too apparently.

Back downstairs at the after party, Molly and Eugenica, whom I met at the sex workers’ day event, showed up. Jay left, and as I was getting pretty wasted, I was invited to an after-after-party in a hotel room.

A group of us took Ubers to this fancy as fuck hotel, and Molly kept buying me drinks. One with olives in it, which tasted awful.

We headed up with the group to a hotel room, where we drank, and people snorted cocaine in the bathroom. Molly said “You’re really cute. Do you want to kiss a little bit?” and I said, “I’m really sorry, but no”. We then all got kicked out of the hotel room by management for some reason, so we just went on a weird little pub crawl that I really don’t remember much of. Just drinking, peeing, and Molly holding my hair as I vomited in a toilet.

Molly called me a Lyft home, and at like 3:30 am I got there. I passed out immediately in all my clothes, without taking my meds or writing in my journal.

So that was yesterday.

This morning I woke up with a horrible headache and a huge overall hangover. I vomited into the toilet, and at 10, had a meeting with my case manager Kristina. I told her that I had a migraine, and I had my head in my hands in pain for the entire time. The meeting only lasted 15 minutes, and I went back to sleep afterward.

At 12, I had my doctor’s appointment with Dafna and I vomited in the toilet once more. So hard that I cried. I told her about falling off my skateboard, and she ordered my refills.

I headed to the HSRC after that and gave out stickers that I got from the sex workers’ day event. A 90s cartoon was playing on YouTube, and I ate pasta, to satiate my disgusting queasiness.

I left and went back home to sleep. I was so fucking hungover. Christopher dropped off the new house keys, since we no longer have day staff, and can let ourselves in. Fucking cool.

Alice got home, and while in pain in bed, I asked her to Google the symptoms of a broken chest. All the symptoms match up, except pain when touching. It hurts so much. I wish I mentioned it to Dafna. Hopefully after therapy tomorrow, I can see a doctor.

We ordered Burger King, and I spent most of the day napping. I watched the end of Leave No Trace, which I started on the plane ride here, 6 months ago. What a cliffhanger.

I think the hangover is ending. I’m sick of feeling so damn shit.

What a weird two days.

Jesse speaking at SWAC's rallye on May 1st 2021, the first SWAC action in reaction to the lack of rights and protections for SWers during the COVID-19 pandemic.

1. Probably refers to the Haight Street Referral Center, a drop-in center for homeless youth in San Francisco. ↩

2. Tubercolosis. ↩

3. New Door is a non-profit organization offering employment programs to San Francisco’s youth. ↩

4. Homeless Youth Alliance. ↩

5. St. James Infirmary is a peer-based non-profit organization serving SWers throughout the San Francisco Bay Area. They are the first occupational health and safety clinic in the U.S. run by SWers for SWers! COYOTE members, the first sex workers organization in the US, like Margot St. James and Priscilla Alexander, founded the clinic. ↩

6. Gay neighborhood of San Fransisco. ↩

7. Democratic Socialist of America. ↩

8. Probably referring to the International Longshore and Wharehouse Union.↩

9. Referring to “Yes In My Backyard” as opposed to NIMBY – “Not In My Backyard”. Jesse saw both of these tendencies as gentrification tactics, but YIMBYs had a more pervasive way of dealing with homelessness in gentrifying neighborhoods. The YIMBYism movement wants to tackle the housing crisis by rezoning and increasing the supply, failing to view the class element of the housing question and reducing it to supply and demand question. ↩