5 Ways to Unlearn the Anti-Black Whorearchy

Remarkable photo by Scarlet Harlot

Racism and sex worker rights are two issues at the forefront of my mind these days, as my social media feeds overflow with white supremacist police violence, loss of income for many due to COVID-19, and the continuing fallout of the whorephobic SESTA/FOSTA laws that make life more difficult for people whose lives were already pretty damn hard.

Recently I listened to a lecture Tina Horn posted to her Why Are People Into That? podcast feed on the topic of the whorearchy – which I knew existed, but hadn’t thought about in much detail before. For those who don’t know, the whorearchy is the abhorrent sociocultural system of biases by which sex workers can be ranked into a hierarchy and then judged based on their place in it. “Trashier,” “sluttier,” more dangerous and/or more stigmatized forms of sex workers tend to end up near the bottom – strippers and street-based escorts come to mind – while those seen as “classier” or less directly/physically involved with their clients tend to be ranked near the top – think webcam performers, sugar babies, and phone sex operators.

While obviously this paradigm is classist, slut-shaming, and whorephobic, it can often be overlooked that it’s also racist, and specifically anti-Black. Clients and fellow sex workers alike can have both overt and covert racist views that affect how Black sex workers are perceived and treated, and what price they can command. As a white person who only dabbles in sex work here and there, I’m going to pull from writing I’ve read from Black women and sex workers, including Daniella Barreto, Jasmine Sankofa, Terri-Jean Bedford, and more, to recommend some ways you can work to unlearn and oppose the anti-Black whorearchy you’ve likely internalized.

Learn about the labor involved in different kinds of sex work.

There seems to be a common sentiment among those who harbor unexamined whorephobia that certain types of sex work are “easy.” This is why, for example, sometimes privileged women will joke that they’ll “just get a sugar daddy” or make an OnlyFans account when they have a few extra bills to pay, as if these roles are easy ones to slip into and start making money from.

In reality, just about every sex worker out there – from a camgirl in her Toronto basement to a stripper in a sticky-floored New York club to the finest luxury escort London has to offer – puts in waaay more work than you probably think. Marketing, grooming, skill-building, fitness maintenance, client relations… These things take a hell of a lot of effort and time. Researching what’s actually involved in the different kinds of sex work – especially the kinds you view, consciously or less so, as “trashy” or “low-class” – will avail you of those misconceptions pretty quick. (Make sure you’re reading accounts written by actual sex workers!)

Shift your language.

I’ve stopped using the word “whore” the way I used to – as synonymous with “slut” – because I’ve learned from sex worker activists that it’s a term used historically to slander and stigmatize sex workers, and thus only they can choose to reclaim it for themselves. Similarly, “ho”/”hoe” is a derivative form of this word which comes from African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) and thus isn’t for white people’s use. (This is just my understanding; those in the know can feel free to correct me on this if I’m wrong.)

There are lots of unsavory slang terms for various types of sex workers, and many of them have a racist tinge (to say the least). If you’re not sure of the best terminology for a particular type of work or worker, look to the writings of the people doing that work and see which terms they prefer and why. Then, commit to shifting the language you use when you talk about these issues.

Write to your political leaders about SESTA/FOSTA.

The laws known as SESTA/FOSTA were ostensibly created to prevent sexual trafficking – but in practice, they’ve mostly just deepened the existing issue of sex workers being unable to safely advertise and conduct their work, online or off. As with pretty much any issue involving legal repercussions or financial disempowerment, this has hit Black sex workers particularly hard, since (as the news lately has loudly echoed for us) the law enforcement system is hugely racist, and Black folks are likelier than white folks to struggle with economic lack and uncertainty.

For this reason, as Amnesty International USA has argued, sex work decriminalization is a racial justice issue, among other things. Write to your political leaders to demand they work to repeal SESTA/FOSTA – or whatever other anti-sex work laws exist where you live. Many people’s lives and livelihoods depend on it.

Call out whorephobic comments when you hear them.

When I was a kid, there was a strip club in my neighborhood, so we drove by it fairly often. My parents were fortunately chill about it, but I often saw people laughing, pointing, and staring at the signage when they walked by, as if the very idea of a stripper was something to be mocked and belittled. People make whorephobic comments all the time, in a wide variety of ways – many of which are subtly or not-so-subtly racist – and a small thing you can do to fight against sex work stigma is to push back when you hear those comments being made.

While some prefer a more direct or aggressive approach, I usually like to respond to these comments calmly, with facts. When someone pityingly or disgustedly describes sex work as “selling [one’s] body,” for example, I like to point out that tons of other workers – including athletes, massage therapists, dancers, and actors – also make money from the ways they use their bodies. Sometimes the simplest rebuttals and reframes can help someone look at sex work in a new light.

Follow more Black sex workers on social media.

The fastest way to comprehend a group of people you don’t know enough about, in my experience, is to surround yourself with those people and listen to them. Even if you don’t think the anti-Black whorearchy informs your perspective, it probably does – and you can shift its insidious influence over time by just spending more time reading the thoughts, opinions, and work of Black sex workers.

I need to do better at this, myself – most of the sex workers I follow are white, so I know I’m only getting a limited view of the industry and the problems within it. The @BlackSexWorkers account is no longer active, but its Following and Followers lists look like a good place to start. Feel free to recommend folks to follow in the comments if there are any Black sex workers you find delightful/enriching to follow!

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own. I donated $50.00 USD/$70.00 CAD of my sponsorship fee for this post to the Black Sex Worker Collective; feel free to match me if you have the means!

Monthly Faves: Corona Coping with Comedy & Coach

Hope you’re holding up okay, loves. Here are some things that made my May more bearable…

Media

• First and foremost, I must direct you to watch all 3 episodes of Middleditch & Schwartz, a Netflix original miniseries of live longform improv shows. These two boys are some of the most skilled improvisors I’ve ever seen, and I say that as someone who used to improvise competitively and has been an improv fangirl/groupie her entire life! These specials gave me some much-needed laughs this month.

• Speaking of laughs, I also really enjoyed Bobby Knauff’s debut stand-up album Rock Bottom. I once saw Bobby perform comedy naked at the Oasis Aqualounge and have understandably liked him ever since!

• Have y’all seen These Thems?! It’s an adorable webseries about a bunch of queerdos flirting and fucking and learning about themselves. I think a lot of you would like it.

• I’ll probably write about this in more detail at some point – it’s still very fresh and I’m still processing it – but I recently took Clementine Morrigan’s online Trauma-Informed Polyamory workshop and it contains honestly potentially life-saving information for trauma survivors trying to do poly. If you struggle with “jealousy” in polyamory that manifests moreso as massive nervous-system distress, and you’ve endured traumas and/or attachment injuries, you really need this class.

• I’m slowly working my way through an advance copy of Emily Willingham’s forthcoming book Phallacy, a seemingly exhaustive and hugely amusing history of the evolution of the penis in humans and other animals. If you like dicks, to a nerdy and/or fetishistic degree, you’d probably dig this.

Mae Martin’s 2017 stand-up special is full of laughs and truth-bombs about family, queerness, gender, unchillness, and summer camp.

Products

• Hot Octopuss sent me their new-ish bullet vibe, the Amo, and it’s… very fucking good. Powerful and rumbly, easy-to-understand controls scheme, and only $49!! I’ll write a full review eventually…

• Wearing makeup can be a major boon for my mood, but what with all the mask-wearing we’re doing these days, no one can ever see my lipstick (and it ends up getting all over my masks anyway!) so I bought some new eyeshadows from MAC. Hoping they’ll put a little femme spring in my step, despite the circumstances.

• I found a vintage black leather Coach Willis bag from the early oughts on eBay and it is stunning. Looking forward to the day I get to pack it full of books for a solo jaunt to a cocktail bar in a post-pandemic world.

• My partner and I are still making/drinking fancy cocktails on the regular. My current fave ingredients include sherries (fino and amontillado are both so yummy in different ways) and homemade ginger syrup. So many possibilities!

• I bought a pair of black leather flats on deep discount from J. Crew and they are sooo comfy and cute. I seem to go through at least one pair of black flats every summer; hopefully these ones will hold up for a while!

• My current handbag obsession is this silver Coach Poppy pushlock satchel. I don’t own one yet, because, well, as we discussed recently, there isn’t much need for handbags in the age of coronavirus. But I sure do like to stare at this one. Wish I could carry it to a black-tie gala right about now.

• For the first time in my life, I got fucked with a cucumber this month. Um… do you want a blog post about that experience?!

Work & Appearances

• I was so excited when local queer publication Xtra asked me to write them some pieces for Masturbation Month, because I always love working with them. Check out my recs for the best partner-play toys and the best masturbation toys for folks with chronic pain.

• My latest column for Herizons magazine was about a major media pet peeve of mine: when people verbify the MeToo movement to say that particular high-profile rapists have “been MeToo’d” when someone comes forward to allege their wrongdoing, as if it’s the perpetrator’s life who’s been ruined and not the victim’s. Yuck.

• The good folks at LoveLustSecrets asked me to write a series of short erotica stories for them, and I decided to have it center around a plucky redheaded sex shop saleswoman named Ava. Some of my favorite instalments: a welcome-back blowjob, a Clone-a-Willy fuck, some fisting flirtation, and an alleyway wank.

• We had some great guests on the Dildorks this month: first, the author and theologian Tara Isabella Burton came to chat with us about how ethics and religion intersect with kink and non-monogamy, and then we had polyamory experts Kevin Patterson and Dr. Liz Powell on to discuss solutions to common polyam problems during the pandemic. We also addressed a bunch of listener questions about masturbation.

• I wrote some good newsletters this month about 5 kinks I wish I had, happiness during a crisis, my obsession du jour with barbershop quartets, and autofellatio.

Good Causes

• Police violence against Black folks, along with their disproportionate and unfair imprisonment rates, continue to be a rampant problem. The Minnesota Freedom Fund‘s mission is to “pay criminal bail and immigration bond for those who cannot afford to as we seek to end discriminatory, coercive, and oppressive jailing.” A similar organization in New York is the Brooklyn Community Bail Fund.

• Help support street medics’ vitally important work by donating to the North Star Health Collective.

• The family of Regis Korchinski-Paquet is raising funds toward seeking justice for her death (which some are reporting was another incidence of racist police violence, right here in Toronto).

Food Banks Canada could really use your help getting more food into the hands of those who need it.

• Queer porn legend and superstar stripper Andre Shakti is raising money for protection and housing in the wake of a domestic abuse situation.

I Miss Going to Sex Shops

A selfie taken with Taylor J Mace at one of our local sex shops.

It’s a scary time for almost every type of business, but I’m especially worried about sex shops.

Right now, adult shops in Sydney and New York and Toronto and other metropolises with thriving sex-positive communities are faced with difficult daily questions, like: Should we stay open, offer only curbside pickup and delivery, or shut down completely? Are our sanitization procedures sufficient for the global health crisis we’re facing? Are we supporting our employees as best we can? Is all of this struggling even worth it?

I think it is, and I think most sex shop owners probably think that too. Many of the best sex shops in Melbourne, Los Angeles, Portland, etc. were founded by people who are passionate about sex toys, sure, but also about sex education. Sex shops function as hubs for community learning on topics like pleasure, anatomy, and even consent. I did more direct sex education work in my few months working at sex shops than I’ve done in entire years elsewhere in the sexuality field. I saw people’s eyes light up when they happened upon a new-to-them erotic possibility. I saw people’s excitement radiate off them as they sauntered out of the shop with a fresh sexy treat in a brown paper bag. I saw that this work transforms sex lives and also sometimes saves lives.

I miss sex shops not just as an employee but as a customer. I miss strolling into my local women-owned erotic boutique and being offered a cup of tea to sip as I shop – it reminds me of the very first time I went into that very sex store, when I was 16, and they sold me my first vibrator, no questions asked. I miss trying on lingerie in a fitting room while an attentive salesperson swans around outside, available for insight and advice as needed. I miss picking up a dildo I’ve had my eye on and getting an embodied sense of its size and weight that product pictures online just couldn’t convey. I miss smart salespeople offering tips and tricks for the vibrator I’m buying, life hacks I could take home to a partner for some revelatory fucking. Every sex shop is a treasure, and so are many of their employees.

What can you do to support your favorite adult stores in Sydney or Vancouver or Paris or wherever you live right now? You can order products from them online if they offer that – or if not, try calling them to see if they can arrange a curbside pickup or any other appropriately safe hand-off method. You can buy tickets for online classes or workshops they might be offering. You can refer friends to them, should you happen to know anyone who’s just run out of lube in quarantine or wants to use their lockdown period to try out a neat new sex toy. Hell, you can even buy a gift card to use once restrictions have eased up.

This pandemic is perilous for so many institutions, from New York’s healthcare system to Montreal’s restaurant business to, yes, Brisbane’s adult shops. I deeply hope these de facto sexual community centers can pull through, if just so that more people can discover and take charge of their sexualities, the way I started to when my first sex shop sold me my very first vibrator all those years ago.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own. For more info on this topic, read my friend Epiphora’s post!

My Top 5 Favorite Cocktails, & How to Make Them

You know… sometimes I refer to this website as a sex blog, but other times, I just think of it as a place where I celebrate my favorite things, many of which happen to be sex-related. Today I feel like talking about cocktails. Let’s dive in and drink up! (Unless you don’t drink, which is totally cool! My drinks-savvy partner recommends this book of mocktail recipes, and I’ve also tried Seedlip non-alcoholic spirits and think they are delicious.)


Gin Martini, Extra Dirty

I’ve had a lot of different martinis, and after much experimentation, this is my favorite one. Some people prefer a vodka martini, but I find gin more flavorful and more pleasant. Some people prefer a martini without vermouth, but (whispers conspiratorially) that’s not actually a martini, it’s just a chilled glass of gin or vodka. Finally, some people prefer their martinis with a lemon twist instead of olives, and with no brine, but I am a filthy girl with filthy tastes. Dirty gin martini it is! I love how the saltiness of the brine balances with the florality of the gin in this classic drink.

Ingredients:

  • 2 oz London dry gin (I like Bombay Sapphire)
  • 1 oz dry vermouth
  • 0.5 oz olive brine (or more, to taste)
  • 3 olives

Stir ingredients over ice in a mixing glass until very cold. Strain into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with olives on a cocktail pick.


Southside

I can’t think of a more refreshing cocktail than this one. It’s considered a classic, though it’s nonetheless obscure enough that many bartenders won’t know what the hell you’re talking about when you order it. However, luckily, it’s fairly easy to make at home.

Ingredients:

  • 2 oz London dry gin
  • 1 oz fresh-squeezed lime juice
  • 0.75 oz simple syrup
  • 8-12 mint leaves

Put the mint leaves and simple syrup into the bottom of a cocktail shaker and gently muddle them with a muddler, wooden spoon, or similar. Add gin, lime juice, and ice. Shake vigorously until the outside of the shaker is uncomfortably cold, and then double-strain into a coupe glass. Garnish with additional mint leaves.


Manhattan

Another classic. I like this one as an after-dinner drink to wind down the evening; it also pairs excellently with steak! I really like how the spices in the Angostura bitters add a satisfying richness to this boozy drink.

Please note that your vermouth needs to be fresh – many people don’t know that vermouth goes bad after a few months, so they keep using the same old bottle and then wonder why their drinks taste terrible. Toss that old bottle and get a fresh one!

Ingredients:

Add bourbon/rye, vermouth, bitters, and ice to a mixing glass. Stir until cold. Strain into a glass of your choosing, and garnish with the cherry on a cocktail pick.


Negroni

This is a refreshing, summery drink often associated with Italy. I can imagine sitting in a piazza somewhere, sipping this during an animated conversation over burrata and cacio e pepe. Yum.

My partner and I have also experimented with subbing in fino sherry for the sweet vermouth, which gives the drink a slightly nuttier, drier flavor. It’s delicious both ways!

Ingredients:

  • 1 oz gin
  • 1 oz Campari
  • 1 oz sweet vermouth
  • A twist of orange peel

Stir or shake the gin, Campari, and vermouth over ice. Serve on the rocks. Squeeze the orange peel over the drink to express the citrus oils, and then run it around the edge of the glass to add extra aromatics before dropping it into the drink as a garnish.


London Calling

This one’s a bit more unusual than the others on this list… Once I went to Civil Liberties and asked the bartender, Nick, if he had any limoncello. He didn’t, but he told me he would make me something that tasted kind of like limoncello. He came back a few minutes later with a London Calling and I immediately fell in love. The bright, tart fruitiness of the lemon juice blends beautifully with the dryness and minerality of the sherry. It’s a refreshing drink with a backbone.

Ingredients (according to Nick’s recipe; opinions vary on this):

  • 1.75 oz gin
  • 1 oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice
  • 0.75 oz simple syrup
  • 0.75 oz fino sherry
  • 4 dashes orange bitters
  • A twist of citrus peel

Shake gin, lemon juice, simple syrup, and sherry in a cocktail shaker with ice. Strain into a glass. Garnish with a twist of citrus peel (Nick suggests grapefruit).


What drinks are you enjoying lately?

Handbags in the Age of Coronavirus

Ever since the pandemic news got bad, I’ve lost almost all of my usual verve for fashion and beauty. Where once I would spend hours per month trawling the websites of beloved clothing and accessories makers, now I can barely bring myself to window-shop for new socks online even though mine are riddled with holes. I trudge through most days in stretched-out T-shirts and comfy lounge pants, my hair pulled back in a cursory nub of a bun, lipstickless and lethargic.

Part of the reason for all this is the obvious: no one is seeing my outfits (no one except my partner, my roommate, and her two cats, that is), so I feel less motivated to put them together. There is no one to infer things about me from what I have on, and in losing the motivation to perform my selfhood in this way, I’m also losing some of that selfhood itself.

Another component of my sartorial disinterest is due to plain ol’ depression and grief. What we’re going through right now, as a species, is traumatic on scales we have yet to fully comprehend. I know from past experience that immense, bone-deep sadness causes my materialistic impulses to either ramp up significantly as a distraction tactic, or to drop off completely in a blaze of nihilism. Lately I’m oscillating between both extremes, but mostly landing on the latter.

However, there is still one category of fashion item that tugs at my femme heartstrings and makes my world feel a little brighter, and that’s handbags. Purses. Satchels. Totes. I ogle the Kate Spade and Coach websites in spare moments. I comb through eBay listings with keen-yet-weary eyes. I take great pleasure in ogling my extant handbag collection – though I rarely touch any of them these days.

That’s the root cause of this, I have to imagine: the lack of need for a bag at this time in history. I can throw on cute outfits galore in the confines of my apartment, and even clomp around in heels I’d never or rarely wear out into the world, but carrying a bag in those instances feels totally unnecessary and impractical. What, am I gonna tuck a petite clutch under my arm for the journey from the bedroom to the kitchen? Slide a crossbody strap over one shoulder for a jaunt to the garbage chute down the hall? I think not.

Even when I go out, I don’t have much use for bags now. More often than not, I’m just going on a quick errand or a meandering walk. I’ll cram my phone into the back pocket of my jeans (I rarely have the emotional energy for skirts and dresses these days), slip my keys into the front one, and maybe bring along a credit card or some cash if I plan on wandering to the shops. With a fabric mask on, I find it’s hard to do anything detail-oriented that lies below my sightline, so rummaging through a bag like I might normally do is impractical and sometimes even painful. (Anyone else find themselves constantly getting poked in the eye by their masks, through some strange contortion of facial muscles and eyeballs?!)

The increasing pointlessness of handbags, the frivolity and complexity of lifestyle that they hearken back to and that contrasts so sharply with my current involuntarily pared-down life, somehow makes them more appealing to me rather than less. They’re a useless luxury object at the moment, sure. But they’re also a window into my future, a future of normalcy regained, a future of getting dressed up and having somewhere to go.

The ritual of packing my pretty purse before an outing is often ceremonious and always important. Solo dates, especially, require preparation in this arena: I’ll fill a piece of lovely leather with my journal and pen so I can reflect on my feelings in a café window, or a loaded-up Kindle so I can spend time with beloved fictional characters at a cocktail bar, or a pair of glasses so I can see a theatrical cast’s every facial expression from the nosebleed seats. I’ll check to make sure I have my ID incase of booze, and my earbuds incase of boredom. I’ll throw in some gum or mints if there’s romance on the horizon. I’ll check the contents of my wallet to see how much merriment I can afford to make. It’s a femme ritual that feels like writing the blueprint of my outing before it even begins. The contents of my bag guide me on my journeys; the bag itself may as well be cute.

I haven’t actually purchased any new bags during this time period, for reasons you can probably guess: it feels unnecessary, I’m trying to keep an eye on my finances, and there are so many better ways I could and should direct my cash during this crisis. But I doubt I’ll stop staring at the kelly-green Marc Jacobs totes and lemon-yellow Coach satchels any time soon. They give me solace, and glee, and something to look forward to: a life that’s once again worth packing a bag for.