Źoja, Oktombro 23, 2008

Thus far the afternoon has been something of an experiment in working without outside representation. It began several days ago when I arrived back home after my Detroit vacation. The vacation itself was fantastic and filled with nerdgasms galore as well as endless parties. Not a single woman there went without free booze as I was able to tell and the booze was good. Something about everclear and hard cider being blended together with cinammon. Though the hangovers were perhaps the worst that I have ever had and at some point I managed to lose my voice. In fact I did not just lose my voice. I threw my voice into a garbage disposal wherein I could manage nothing more than mute squeaks which approximated words but never quite made it there. Plus my legs were experiencing the worst kind of soreness for several days afterward and it was almost impossible to think without conjuring up some kind of crippling headache.

In short my vacaction was everything that I wanted it to be.

In any case I lose my voice and was in pain by the time I made it back home. I decided that I would take several days off from work to recover since I had never given Elizabeth a clear time of return. Then it dawned on me that I had spent just a little bit over my budget and that it would be good to make that money back at some point. I decided that I take this afternoon and tomorrow afternoon to work for myself and see if I could make better cash doing the independent thing. I admit that it has been frustrating in part because I have receieved one phone and just one phone call. That said slow days do happen and I am trying not to let myself be discouraged. I used to be very good at being an independent woman before I became accustomed to having an agent take all my calls, and I am sure that tomorrow will balance things out in the end. It usually seems to work out that way and one phone call is not so terrible.

Speaking of that one phone call, it was a little bit more than terrible. I suppose that since I have been recovering from a lost voice what voice I do have is a little bit more deep than usual. I admit that in my casual life I do not make many attempts at concealing the curious nature of my birth but when I am working I go the distance and do a damn good job at that. But with my voice all messed up I guess he was able to figure out that I am trans. Granted he did not even ask me about my status until after he was in the nude so it was apparent that he did not care so I figured I be honest after some unsuccessful dodging. He was as nice about it as any strange man ever can be but afterward he decided to get kind of righteous about my situation. He decided that he was going to start telling me about how I should run my business. I am accustomed to men who know that I am trans thinking that I should maybe mention that tidbit in my advertisements. But for the most part when they say this they do so because they feel that anything is else is deceptive whereas my position is that I am selling an experience and as long as the client leaves feeling fulfilled by said experience there was no harm and no foul.

However this man was different.

This man was different because this man cared about my life. He figured that I was putting myself in a dangerous situation on account of being transgendered and not mentioning it to anyone when I am in professional mode. Which is true enough but then again I would be putting myself in just as dangerous of a position if I did disclose my status and on top of that I would be hurting my business. The fact is that I have thought about all of this before, and have spoken about it at length with several of my dearest friends, and that for some reason this man thought that I had not. I am not an idiot and yet he just stared at me like I had no idea what I was talking about when I told him that the greater portion of my clients never know and that in I am far more socially privileged than most the transgendered sex workers who do end up on the dead end of a heart beat. I pass as white and those women do not. I am operating in the highmarket and those women do not. I work away from the streets and those women do not. All of these privileges come together in specific ways and although they do not guarantee that I am safe they do put me closer to safe than most. The realities are tragic and the realities are painful but they are realities which many of us live with, and being reminded of those realities by someone who was only interested in being patronizing pretty much ruined my whole afternoon.