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Monthly Archives: July 2012

Adult cartoons: conservative agenda?

South Park. Family Guy. The Simpsons. They’re ultra-liberal, filled with swear-words, innuendos and sometimes sexually explicit comments. A show like Family Guy, which has the word “penis” in half its episodes and utilises phrases like “your penis would shoot right off your body”, “my daughter’s womb is not a wildfire for you to douse with your adolescent seed” and show scenes of rape, sex addiction, kinky sex, and puppy-babies concieved by bestiality is not usually thought of as furthering the agenda of the religious right. But it does. Don’t get me wrong, Family Guy is my favourite thing on TV, IloveitIloveitIloveitIloveitIloveit. All these cartoons work against the right-wing agenda and mock it in many ways. But here is how it, and other adult cartoons, do further that agenda:

In The Simpsons, Family Guy and American Dad, the mothers are all housewives with no friends.

In all the above shows as well as the Cleveland Show, the focus is on a male character

The father is irresponsible, lazy and doesn’t do housework – especially Homer Simpson and Peter Griffin. The boys – especially Bart Simpson, Eric Cartman and Rallo Tubbs- cause chaos (which is not seen as deviant), while the girls are quiet (especially Lisa Simpson and Meg Griffin) or only cause ‘trouble’ to their parents by parental fear of their sexuality (Roberta Tubbs and Meg Griffin) or political views (Hayley Smith). In contrast, the mothers care for the kids and do not pull crazy stunts of their own – an exception is Family Guy’s Lois, but her stunts (kleptomania, revealing that she was in a porn film) pale in comparison to Peter’s.

In the first episode of The Cleveland Show, the mother is depicted as unable to control her children after becoming a lone mother. Only Cleveland, acting as a father figure, can restore discipline.

This ‘discipline’ includes controlling 15 year old Roberta’s sexuality by physically intimidating her boyfriend. This patriarchal control is juxtaposed with Cleveland’s freedom to have sex with Roberta’s mother at the very moment that Roberta’s sexuality is subject to his control

In contrast, Roberta’s 5 year old brother is encouraged by Cleveland to be sexual. Cleveland teaches him to invent a reason for having to peek up girls’ skirts, a behaviour which resulted in him being expelled in the first place.

Cleveland’s assertion that the kids “need some fathering” – mothering being inadequate

Robert’s absence supposedly caused the kids to misbehave; however, as a drunk who is disinterested in his children, how could he have disciplined them when he lacks discipline himself? The message is that even a drunk dad can parent better than a working, caring, sober mom.

Roberta is portrayed as accepting her boyfriend’s decision to take her home early/not have sex. Cleveland is controlling her through her boyfriend, and likewise her boyfriend is able to control her sexuality.

In one episode, Roberta is almost forced by peer pressure and a TV camera to flash her breasts, along with many other girls, but her stepbrother saves her by pretending to be a girl and flashing his chest. This implies that it is not good to flash your breasts for a TV show and that women are exploited in the adult entertainment industry. Roberta was portrayed as a victim with no agency who had to be saved by a younger male relative. The fate of flashing was portrayed as dire.

 

In Family Guy, Peter is pathologically possessive of his daughter Meg when she dates a trainee doctor – even stalking them in disguise- and attempts to shoot him when Meg is pregnant.

In the current season, both Peter and Lois stop Meg having sex with Glenn Quagmire even though she’s already 18. Meg is portrayed as accepting this.

While Glenn and Herbert are sex predators and Peter frequently uses very sexual language, the female characters are not permitted such expression. Even when Lois is revealed to have starred in a porn film, the revelation leads to her becoming a social pariah which is the main content of the episode. However, when male characters commit rape, cheat, repeatedly attempt child molestation, commit bestiality, abduct people for sex, etc, they suffer no consequences and their actions remain secret. These actions constitute very small portions of the episodes, in contrast to Lois’ porn movie, Lois’ sexy photo, Loretta’s affair, Meg’s boyfriend/subsequent pregnancy, Bonnie’s affair or Peter’s boss Angela sexually harassing him. The mens’ actions are not portrayed as problematic or deviant. They seem to happen as a result of the mens’ libido. However, the womens’ actions are problematized by the community and the family. Their actions seem to come from problems: lack of money (Lois making the porno), unhappy marriage (Loretta and Bonnie having affairs, Lois kissing Meg’s boyfriend) being naive and/or used (Jillian-Brian, Meg-Quagmire and Cheryl Teags-Brian) and being suicidal (Angela). The men suffer no consequences for their actions except Quagmire’s friends being annoyed with him when he is caught spying on Lois, and Lois being annoyed with him for trying to sleep with Meg. By contrast the women get publically shamed on TV (Lois’ porn film), lose public office (Lois’ photo), are discovered cheating (Loretta and Bonnie), have a pregnancy scare, a forced marriage, then lose their boyfriend (Meg) go to prison for harbouring a fugitive (Meg) accidentally make out with their brother (Meg) get dumped, get obssessed, perform a kidnap and get told to wait for the right man by Quagmire, a pervert – double standard much?(Meg), attempt suicide when attraction is unreciprocated (Angela).

When Lois briefly becomes a lone mother in the episode ‘Big man on the hippocampus’, the family’s income drops ridiculously low.

In South Park, being a slut is linked to being stupid and spoiled, and in a slut contest the male slut (Mr Slave) wins over the female slut (Paris Hilton). It is not suggested that Mr Slave is stupid or spoiled. The girls of South Park then immediately stop being sluts.

The only lone mother portrayed is Eric Cartman’s mother, and her son is completely out of control. She is also portrayed as promiscuos and as not knowing who Eric’s father is.

 

 

 

 

 
5 Comments

Posted by on July 30, 2012 in Feminism, Film, Media

 

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Slutty dreams

Ah, ‘slut’. The perfect word. I am a slut. What kind of disgusting slut would sell her body? And not only agree to such a thing, persuaded by a much older company director, but actually go to a nude modelling shoot to see if this is the right man to sell her virginity to. It’s absolutely disgusting. Dirty. Sordid. Unseemly. Naughty. Bad girl. Obscene. Licentious. Libidinous. Perverted.

I hope by the end of it I feel used and dirty. I tried to cry when I ran away from Roland and he cornered me, demanding that I could either give him a blowjob now or do it “with a sore bottom” [back in a sec]

Right, where was I? Oh, yes. I wanted to cry, but I cannot cry at will, something that I regret. I can act very well and can lie very well, but I cannot cry, though I can fake crying and people will believe it. (Then Roland was all like, ‘If you don’t want to then we don’t have to’ which left me feeling insulted; what gave him the idea I couldn’t do it?? Except that I attempted to run away from him, then later did run upstairs where he cornered me). Then he was all like, ‘Are you really sure?’ about six times in different words. Why didn’t he just stab my bum with the knife and carry me downstairs, take the knife out, put it to my throat and tell me to get sucking? (Note: this is not a serious rhetorical question, unlike in 50 shades where Ana wakes up in a hotel and is all ‘Why didn’t Christian rape me while I was unconscious?’)

Anyway, the point of this post is that the other night I had a dream…a song to sing. I was in a student flat while a stunning boy one or two years older than me, with black, floppy hair (which I like) had sex with me. He knew I was a virgin. It hurt a bit but went on for a long time and was great. After that we drank coffee and agreed not to see each other again because we had fulfilled our agreement. Then I woke up in bed, realizing that I’d been dreaming about last night, took a morning-after pill, checked the time, realized I should’ve taken it before, wondered if I should go get emergency contraception, and went back to sleep.

Then I REALLY woke up and after a few minutes of worrying about this and deciding to go to the doctor for emergency contraception, I realised it’d been a dream.

I think the dream was showing me/was my brain showing me what would’ve happened if I hadn’t sold my virginity. That I could’ve had my dream man as a hookup but not been paid. My brain was idealizing the encounter – dream boy, no commitments. However, it seems that my subconcious thinks that unplanned pregnancy or stress would have resulted from it. I wonder if my subconcious was telling me why I must not annoy Roland – “Even if you found your dream man, you would be unhappy because you lost the opportunity to sell yourself”. -As Freud would say. He does oversimplify things and read sex into absolutely everything. However, in my case it’s warranted as the dream was about sex. And my dream was telling me that Roland is the opposite; someone I find deeply unattractive, but with whom I would apparently not get pregnant (for some reason). Or was the dream telling me that pregnancy from a student would only bring anxiety, whereas pregancy from Roland (if carried to term) would bring lots of money (child support)?

Possible meanings of the dream:

If I have sex I risk unplanned pregnancy

Sex with someone other than Roland is risky/Roland is safe

You can have a dream boy and stress, or Roland and money

You should get pregnant by Roland to get child support

At all costs avoid getting pregnant

There are so many methods of contraception that you won’t get pregnant

Losing your virginity will result in anxiety

You should break the deal and lose virginity to someone your age

If you don’t sell yourself to Roland, you will be stressed

Do not be a virgin when you have vaginal sex with Roland

Get pregnant by a good-looking man so your baby will look good, then tell Roland he is the daddy

If you don’t love Roland, as he claims, you shouldn’t have sex with him

The deal is a bad idea – you should hook up once and no more

 

 

 

 

 

 

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…And that’s a post!

The top three search engine terms that brought people to this sordid blog today were:

When does Ana get spanked with a belt in 50 shades

Sell virginity 2012

I want to have sex with my boss but he’s way older than me

 

What is the world coming to and where on Earth is Nadine Dorries when you need her? Please take away our freedom and stop us from fornicating!!

 

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Mama I’m in love with a pervert

Mama I’m in love with a criminal. And this type of love isn’t rational, it’s physical. (it’s physical). This song by Britney Spears was playing in an arty clothing shop in Glasgow as I was spending my prostitution earnings. I’m playing it right now. The rest of the lyrics after this are: Mama please don’t cry, I will be alright/and all reason aside, I just can’t deny, I love that guy./He’s a rebel with a tainted heart/And even I am just a tart.

Roland thinks that I think I love him, so if I did my song (to the same tune of Criminal) would be:

Mama I’m in love with a pervert now.

And this type of love isn’t rational, it’s physical. (It’s physical).

Mama please don’t judge him cos he treats me right,

And I got all the fucking that I need all night. (all night long).

He’s got a corporate facade but a pervert’s core

And he’s the perfect mate for me, a whore.

Mama please don’t sigh, he’s not my only man

Your daughter’s proud to be a slut and she has ten.

Mama please don’t cry, he got millions

I’ll love him till I meet a guy with billions (with billions)

He’s a pervert but an educated one

And furthermore the sex is really fun.

Mama, he’s the one I have to marry

If I really want that red Ferrari!

 

Mama please don’t cry, your baby’ll be alright

As long as she can fuck three hours a night. (Three hours a night)

And Roland is my soulmate, I can tell

By his balance sheet and his car as well

Mama he’s polyamorous like me

And he holds the key for me, to set me free.

He’s a dirty old man with no qualms

But he’s giving me 8000 pounds

See, he’s of financial benefit to me

And also I’m learning how to fuck for free.

He’s a professional who loves his art,

And I’m a kinky bitch without a heart.

 

Mama I’m in love with a pervert now,

And this type of love isn’t spiritual; it’s professional

I’m a prostitute who likes electric drills

So, if I lived my fantasies, I’d kill.

What I want to do to him is criminal

And my self-control at best is miminal (it’s minimal)

Mama, my dreams are the devil’s art

But rape and torture are dear to my heart.

Mama please don’t cry, I won’t set him on fire

All laws aside, I can’t deny, wanna rape that guy.

The Government can’t torture me in Britain,

This is a situation that’s not worth living,

But worse still, if I use electricity

On him without consent, they’d imprison me.

 

Mama, Roland’s fucking a criminal

He doesn’t know my sex drive is so powerful

Mama I’m scared I’m gonna lose control

And end up in jail, cos you know, I’m a ho.

Mama do you know where to get a taser?

It’d be cool if I could find a laser

He’s a fucking pervert, a predator

But an educated fucking pervert, so that’s better.

Mama, I’m in love with a pervert now,

I’m a pure virgin with my innocence in tow

Mama, do you think he’s too much for me?

If he loves me back, I might get that Ferrari.

 

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Roland thinks I love him and I don’t know why and didn’t make this happen so why is it happening?

This is my first non-ecstatic post. Roland thinks (or thought, maybe he believes me now) that I am (or think I am, or soon will be) in love with him. I don’t know why this is happening, and things that happen outwith my instigation or control really irritate me. I wish he’d grow more hair so that his accusation would be less ludicrous. I think it also reminds me that Roland is a real person, not just my buyer, client or sex toy, with real independent thoughts that I cannot control.

I like Roland, which is of course very unusual in the sex industry, but I have heard that it is not all that unusual with regular clients. Anyway: I like him but how could I love him? He’s not bad looking, but he’s way older than me and has the hair thing going on. And even if I did fall in love with him, he’s in a polyamorous marriage and I’m polyamorous and a commitmentphobe so what would be the difference? I’d just let him have me for free, which he’d like of course. The only difference would be that I’d miss him when it ended, but I’d get over it just like everybody else.

Just because I text him more than twice a month doesn’t mean I think I love him. And there was a point to that particular text, and the ones before it: That Belle de Jour knows about us; answers to his questions about how I met Dr Magnanti; and a text saying I forgot to say I discovered I like being ‘forced’ to give blowjobs, which is true.

I don’t feel any more of a connection with him than I do with Glasgowsexworker, who has a blog on here and is a friend’s friend (wasn’t going to give out this information, but it is already in the comments on a previous post so people are going to know) i.e. a connection of ideas, interests, etc. Yes, I like him. He’s funny and very knowledgeable. But I don’t think I love him, and I won’t in future either. At a time like this, I would think “Hmmm…what would Belle de Jour do?” but I just met her 2 days ago so her persona has lost its magic; I know she’s a scientist and former call girl who had the same experience as thousands of other call girls and was talented enough to write a great blog and get an award, then lucky enough to get her book published. I look up to her but when you meet someone in real life, you realise that however intelligent they are, they are just a regular person. (Actually, hearing her talk and reading her book made me realise she is even smarter than what I thought before and I like her even more now, but I also realised she is just a regular person.)

Our texts while Lochlan and I were in Browns [he uploaded a pic of me to Facebook, updated his status and ‘liked’ my status, as well as texting; I updated my status, ‘liked’ the pic, and texted – what is the world coming to? We are so reliant on social media and texting instead of being social in real life!]:

Me (trying to appear like I’d drank more than I had – I’d had 5 or 6 drinks- so he wouldn’t think me texting him was annoying]: I met Brooke Magnanti/Belle de Jour and I told her!! Not using my real name or identifying you obv. Isnt that amazing?!!! Its so good being me, it must suck to be anyone else! Yeah! Go Kalika! Go Kalika! Yeah biitchezz!! [I think I surpassed the brief here!]

Roland: Wow! Where did you meet her?

Me:At a talk my friend Lochlan, whos into sex activism as he has sex worker friends, took me to in glasgow. I told her i got the idea to blog about the adventure from her, that she is my inspiration, and i got a copy of her latest book The Sex Myth.

Roland:Btw you were discovered by a hair, a sequin, a toe or fingernail, and a neighbour while we were in Leigh 🙂

Me: Oh. Really sorry about that. Did u manage to lie your way out of it? Hope America was fun. Lochlan bumped into a sex worker friend at the talk who has a blog too that I’ve commented on, shes seen my blog and told him that I’m unusually sexually self-assured for a virgin. Miss your cock, Queen Tut xxxx

and: Sorry. Is Leigh the part of Newcastle we wer in? I think your wife lives up to her name [a Scots pun on her nickname]

Me, the next day: Sorry for loads of txts, just forgot to mention the last time I saw u that i found out i rly like giving blowjobs and u completely humiliated me and dominated me and made me your bitch, and i like being debased and my mouth used as a cock-hole because it’s so embarrassing and dehumanizing like I’m nothing. I like a warm dick thrust into my mouth until I gag. Also, I guess the sequin was from the knife, I won’t bring it again anyway.

Roland: Well my dear, humiliation and domination are two sides of the same sexy coin. I enjoy, primarily, giving you what you want and finding out what you need. The chaste whore in you is obviously in need of something…

and, separately:

Btw please remember what I said. Women want to seem to be the way they think the men they think they love want them to be…

Me: I’ll remember that if I ever fall in love. Not that I will, because that would be cheating on my reflection, with whom I have a monogamous relationship.

Roland: This applies whether the man is their daddy, their lover, their teacher, or a total and complete pervert 🙂

Me:I knew what u meant the first time. I’ve never thought I was in love, except with myself of course. And if I was in love – not that I’m capable of commitment-love – I would say so. I don’t play games like other women. I just want my Ferrari and private jet, not some hubby to poke in the missionary position.

And, later: Why would that even be a possibility? [I will keep the rest to myself – not for anonymity, just because I’m not sure if that text was the right one…I am confused.] I don’t want to annoy my most precious source of income, but what if I have? Confusion is alien to me. I am always utterly sure of myself. How can Roland confuse me, when no-one else can? He’s so unique and unpredictable. I hope he tells me to wait somewhere for him, then beats me and ties me up, stuffs me in his car boot and drives me into the woods, spanks me until I cry and rapes me. He’s probably quirky enough to do it. Perhaps I should suggest this to him after the consummation, but I don’t know if that’s his kink. I’d ask him for a nude pic, but it’d probably just convince him more that I’m in love with him. Why does he think this? He has no evidence to support his conclusion. I’m not entirely sure of the next text I sent, either. This was the last I sent:  I appreciate your concern tho, its nice that you care about me beyond sex. You’re like Brooke’s clients. Well u are a call girl level client, so I suppose it makes sense. I bet streetwalkers’ punters are totally different.

He hasn’t replied, does that mean he’s just bored of texting me, or is he annoyed by what I said, or doesn’t believe me, or he believes me and has dropped it? Why can’t I build a spanking machine like Kane did and put him in it? Actually, I’ll build it in a few weeks. Heh. Also, why do men have a thinking/talking function when you just need their cock?

It would be easier if we’d been talking face to face. Roland has said similar things before – that this blog is potentially obsessive because it’s about him – (it’s not, it’s about me and my adventure), that I might make myself believe he loves me, etc. I think he has a Moulin Rouge fantasy where the hooker falls in love with the guy. It’s one of my favourite films as I love the soundtrack and the theme of prostitution. Did that happen in Pretty Woman too? I don’t like feeling confused. I shall eat chocolate to make this all go away. Why is getting paid 1000’s to fuck so complicated? If I was Queen Tut I’d kill somebody right now.

 

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Reclaiming “morality”

It’s time.Reclaiming words like “slut” is important, but reclaiming words like “morals”, “morality” “immorality” and “family values” is equally important.

Why? So people can’t hijack these words to gloss over their hate speech or anti-democratic agendas. Which people am I talking about? To name a few: Rick Santorum, Rick Perry, anti equal marriage campaigners in Britain, certain American legislators, Ann Widdecombe, Rush Limbaugh, certain UK bishops and cardinals…the list goes on, and the problem is global; I have chosen to name Western people because they are more known to me.

Why should we reclaim these words?

“moral” means the right thing to do; a good thing. Denying innocent people birth control, the right to marry, equality, the right to have a family, respect, the right not to carry a rapist’s baby to term when their life is endangered by the preganancy, denying validation of one’s sexuality, gender choice or partner, dividing communities by sexuality or marital status, dividing parents and children by the same divisions, et cetera, is not moral. It is not the right, good, or ethical thing to do.

Ditto for “morality”.

“immoral” is the opposite of moral (see above).

“Family values” means valuing and validating the family, putting the family (as opposed to the individual, community or society) as a priority. Does ridiculing and criticising polyamorous, same-sex, trans, or umarried peoples’ families help these families and value them? Does valuing the family mean preventing parents from ever starting a family by adoption, or encouraging young parents to give up their children for adoption, or denying welfare to female parents who have a second child while unmarried? Ummm…no.

So, as you can see, these words are not being used correctly at all – their meaning has been completely twisted to mean the opposite. But we can change them back! If we use the word “moral” as synonymous with “ethical”, “right”, “good”, and “honorable”, and “morality” as synonymous with “human rights”,  then we will take their confusing language away from them. We can take the moral high ground and speak out for equal marriage, polyamorous marriage, an end to slut-shaming, rape culture and stigma of sex workers, lone mothers and “sluts” in the name of morality. We can condemn the sexual double standard and homophobia as immoral. We can advocate for family values to take precedence and legalise equal marriage in its name. Imagine the possibilities!

Come on, guys and girls! Let’s make “morality” OUR word, and our goal.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on July 27, 2012 in Feminism, Sex work

 

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I meet Dr Magnanti/Belle de Jour, who inspired me to make this blog

My friend Lochlan invited me to a Facebook event to Dr Brooke “Belle de Jour” Magnanti’s talk on sex myths about adult entertainment causing violence. It was really good – well analysed, with irrefutable evidence to back up all her results and claims about previous studies not taking account of crucial factors such as population growth. (You should buy her book, ‘The Sex Myth’. It’s not a feminist book as she doesn’t identify as a feminist; it is a collection of essays which prove that sex trafficking into the UK is almost nonexistent, that women aren’t lees visual or less sexual than men, that teens aren’t more sexualised now than before and a lot of other myths. It’s all true by the way – the decade with the highest rate of teenage pregnancy was the 1950’s!)

I had always thlought that Brooke’s academic credentials are a powerful tool in her quest to spread the truth and get people to focus on the real issues instead of throwing away millions deporting illegal sex workers to stop sex trafficking and shutting down lap dancing clubs to stop rape. I do see her as a feminist; I think she is too generalising to lump all of feminism together; she could be identify as a liberal feminist; it was radical feminism that was/is sex-negative and criticised her for ‘betraying’ women by being a sex worker. But some sex workers are feminists. Actually, Brooke probably knows this but has chosen to drop the feminist label altogether. Anyway, at the Q and A section of the talk I realised that her academic reputation can also get in the way of her activism. I realised this when she ‘fudged’ the second question I asked, and although I usually despise this sort of thing – I once gave an EU Court of Justice Judge a hard time over fudging a question I’d asked which my lecturer then re-asked and he fudged it AGAIN – the lecturer couldn’t keep a straight face as I asked “where in the Treaty does it say that [and so on]” – I understood immediately why Brooke had to do it. She couldn’t risk getting quoted out of context or seeming too radical. If she did, this could make people not like her and not listen to the truth of her research. Then the feminist cause would be hurt by that, as she is a very valuable ‘asset’, if you will, to feminism in this country. And if I have to go without an answer to further the cause(s) that I fight blog/rant for, then I’ll do it gladly (and much more, if need be.)

I’d tried to read her book Secret Diary of a Call-Girl in Tesco’s about a year ago, but I just felt too envious of her to carry on reading, especially when she mentioned she’d firts got into the business as a dominatrix when she was a student – my dream student job. I’d always wanted to be a prostitute. I imagined myself working from a flat independently instead of being a call girl. It was also my dream to sell my virginity. As I read her book, I felt that I wanted to meet her, and also very jealous of her. But I also looked up to her for writing it, for giving this to society and changing stereotypes of STD-ridden working-class streetwalkers, letting us acknowledge educated women who were sex workers. And women with boyfriends who are sex workers. Telling us that prostitutes have parents.

So, I think Lochlan was not far off when he said “Is she your hero?” because, from a political point of view, the answer always had been “yes” even at my most envious moments.

Of course, she was my inspiration for this blog. I told her so.

As I had been jealous of her and simultaneously approved of her writing and saw her as a sort of role model, I was a bit – well, Lochlan referred to it as “starstruck” but nobody could tell, of course, as I can control my emotions. And I was aware that I was ‘starstruck’ because of how I saw her, and not because of who Dr Magnanti really is (i.e. a normal person who was good enough at writing to write an award-winning blog and a bestseller).

Dr Brooke Magananti’s talk summarised:

The belief that lap dancing clubs lead to increase in rape is false – studies that claimed it was true failed to account for population growth – rape actually went down (though Dr Magnanti doesn’t think lap dancing makes rape go down)

Studies showing that lots of children watch porn were not well conducted, using very small samples that were not representative

These issues are very complex and influenced by multiple factors

Policy shouldn’t be influenced by bad studies and shaky data

Sex trafficking is almost nonexistent, but is hyped up by the media

Bad studies are great for shock headlines, which concern the public and NGOs and perpetuate the cycle

I’d kind of been hoping I’d get to talk to her afterwards to get tips on how to raise awareness of certain feminist issues. So, let’s cut to when me and Lochlan are talking to her:

I’d had six drinks – Sangria and WKD (Lochlan had seven) and I was regretting this as we stood in line to talk to her during the break. I wanted to get my sentences in order so I could get tips on feminist activism and ask her some other stuff about the double standard and whatnot. I also wanted to tell her about Roland, because she would understand me. I am not saying my experience is the same as hers – I’ve not even read her memoirs, how can I – but I’m pretty certain judging by her book that she enjoyed selling herself and got pleasure out of it, just like me. I don’t know anyone else who’s ever done it. Actually, I might (you never know who’s done what – I don’t have “I’m Rolanding” taped to my forehead) especially if you count SeekArrangement.com as sex work, but they’re keeping quiet about it.

Lochlan had brought a copy of the old book for her to sign and I picked up ‘The Sex Myth’ right there before the talk. We got her to sign our books. Since I couldn’t count on not being accidentally eavesdropped or photographed by the journalists present, or anyone else, I asked her to make it out to Kalika, which she asked me to write on her hand since she couldn’t spell it. (It always hurts a bit when I write on my hand; does nobody else feel that?). (I knew she wouldn’t out me, as a former sex worker and scientist she’d be the last person in the world to do such a thing, obviously. And what would be in it for her? ‘BELLE DE JOUR EXPOSES GIRL SELLING VIRGINITY FOR 8K’ actually would ruin her far more than me (it would compromise her both as Belle de Jour, as she sold out a fellow sex worker, and also as an academic professional. As Roland would say, I’ve got nothing to lose) and she wouldn’t need the money even if guaranteed anonymity. It wasn’t her I was worried about, it was everyone else milling around that I couldn’t possibly keep an eye on while talking to her. It was the journalists, mainly, that I was worried about. Not only for that moment, but in case I was outed (or outed myself anonymously) in the future. After all, this blog will continue to be updated for months. I will market it. I never promised Roland I wouldn’t anonymously sell my story (I’m not saying I will – I’d rather wait a few years and sell it under my legal name when I’m a known feminist author or blogger (well, if!!!). It would be fun! And of course I’d keep Roland’s identity secret.) But, anyway, it was for the future that I was planning.

I admitted I hadn’t been able to read her first book because I’d been envious of her especially the dominatrix part and she said, “And now that you’ve seen me, you don’t need to be envious!”

“Well, it’s because I’m kind of doing something similar,” I said. It was hard to speak as eloquently as usual with all the drink, and I couldn’t see four sentences ahead like I usually can. “I’m selling my virginity,” I added. I didn’t even lower my voice, because calling myself Kalika was precaution enough. I think seeing her made me not care, too; after all, I’m selling myself to one guy, she is proud that she was selling herself to lots of guys. However, as Lochlan and I discussed later, she’s in a good place because she’s got a PhD and a successful career so it’s hard to criticise her. But I’d better wait till I’ve got a career till I out myself, and even then a teacher who wrote about her call girl experiences in a few articles was fired because she was once a call girl. So Brooke was lucky; maybe she was too well known to b fired as it would be very bad press if they fired her. Or maybe they can’t use the excuse that she’s working with kiddies so could pervert their innocent minds. Or gets on with her boss.

We were only talking for a few minutes but I think she’s very down to earth and not like what you’d expect, she’s very ‘real’ and a good person – not all sugary niceness, because even the most evil people can put that on -I mean ‘good’ as in sincere and dedicated to the truth. I’m not going to quote her anymore because she didn’t consent to her words being put on a blog. I know this post would be more interesting and longer if I just stuck in a transcript of the conversation, but I don’t think it’s fair.

So I’ll just write that Brooke: Thinks 50 Shades of Grey is just porn with no inherent feminist or sexual freedom values; was pleased that she was an inspiration to me for this blog; pointed me in the direction of a sociologist who was present to answer a raising-awareness question I had; and I think I’ll leave it at that.

Lochlan went off twice; he told me later that he bumped into his friend, who is a sex worker and blogs about sex activism. I’d suspected she’d be there; luckily, I was talking to Brooke so didn’t see her, so she’s still anonymous to me, though I must’ve walked right past her when I went to talk to the sociologist.

A few people went over to ask her questions at the end, too. Lochlan and I went to Browns on George square and had 2 cocktails each; I had a cosmo and a strawberry chocolate cocktail, had a grey-coloured drink and I can’t remember the other one. After a short fret to Lochlan over whether texting Roland about this would annoy him/seem needy, I texted Roland that I’d met Belle de Jour and told her about me selling virginity; I thought that would interest him. It must have, because he texted back something along the lines of Wow!!’How did you meet her?’ so we were texting for a little bit and I was reading his texts to Lochlan who of course only knows him by ‘Roland’ so it was hilarious (to me) that Lochlan was calling him ‘Roland’ constantly. I’d rather have called him so I could hear the surprise in his voice as I told him, but it went to voicemail and I was too tipsy to bother leaving a message. Then we went to Lochlan’s, stopping at a bar with live music along the way. I had a chocolate Russian and a Vanilla Russian, he had a White Russian and a Chocolate Russian. Neither of us were drunk though; I need a LOT to get drunk.

We walked on, talking about sex myths, sex work and Brooke and he asked me about Rolanding and I was like, “Well, I can only speak for myself but even if you wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t for the money, you can still get physical pleasure from it, obviously, because we’re biologically programmed to be that way. So even though Roland is really old, it’s still really fun. Like I thought I hated blowjobs but I love doing it. I’ve learned a lot about myself.”

“So you’re not just doing it for the money then? There’s something else?”

“Well, yeah, duh, the sex. I’m doing it for the sex as well, of course.”

“When are you actually going to have vaginal sex?”

“The time after next time, in a brothel. Well, a massage parlour.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t give a shit. As long as I get my £1,000. Whatever makes him happy.”

“Really?”

“Why should I care? I’ll have to close my eyes though and pretend it’s someone who looks good. I’d prefer it if he wore a paper bag over his head, but obviously I wouldn’t be able to talk him into it.”

“Is he really that unattractive?”

“He’s okay, I guess,” I said, “He’s not fat and doesn’t have wrinkles. I think he would look good if he wasn’t old. I mean, he actually looks younger than his age. So I think when he was young, he was hot.”

“Are you afraid of getting old?”

“Well, Asians don’t age and neither do blacks, so…no.”

“Oh that’s good then.”

Then, in his flat, he got me a pillow and sheet on the sofa and I put the sleeping bag on top of it and went to sleep.

Today, Lochlan walked me to the subway. Knowing I was going shopping, he said “Are you going to spend some of Roland’s money?”

“Well, it’s mine now. I worked very hard for it.”

He left me at the subway, as he had to get to class. I pondered the missed opportunity of us making a pun on the word ‘blow’, like blowing money/blowing Roland. Then I remembered I’m scared of subways! But I was okay in the end, it is just waiting for the train that I don’t like, when its silent and then when you hear it coming. I’m okay with subways that have bigger platforms (in other countries) though. I got off in Buchanan Street and headed to H and M, bought denim shorts, black jeggings and a grey denim shirtdress (£54, didn’t even glance at the price tags) then a pair of wedge sandals out of River Island five minutes later. That was £100 gone in twenty minutes, a new record for me, but achieved only by Rolanding or I wouldn’t have splurged like that. I only bought a belt after that, though, so it wasn’t a massive shopping spree. I ended up wearing the wedges in Glasgow, putting my flats in the bag. I touched up my toenail varnish with the nail varnish I keep permanently in my bag for emergencies.

 

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