I take no issue with the abolitionary view that sexual exploitation is harmful. Of course it’s harmful. It’s the reason I’m a self-made lone wolf. I’d rather be working alone than controlled. Both situations totally suck, but I know which one is intrinsically evil, and I avoid it like the plague.

Abolitionists get generous funding, and use their allotments to travel the globe, specifically seeking and interviewing sex workers who are cruelly coerced. “What is rape for others is normal for us,” one of their subjects declares.13 Abolitionists rally to define prostitution as strictly the plight of the slave.

I agree that the work must be heinous for prostitutes being controlled. I’m sure I’d be catastrophically marred by a life in which I was ordered to fuck. Dear God. Just thinking of it turns my blood cold. To be told who to fuck, and when, and where, and for how much, and having to keep on fucking and sucking until someone said I could stop…that’s a perfect vision from Hell. If I couldn’t escape from that nightmare, I’m sure I’d have the ailments observed in abolitionists’ subjects: post-traumatic stress disorder, psychosomatic illness, drug abuse, and depression.

Actually, I think I’d kill myself.

And as if those outrages weren’t enough, I couldn’t keep the money I made? The people who sold me would get it? And they’d make me give up the protection of condoms, because the buyers don’t like them? And they wouldn’t protect me from buyers’ abuses, because they wouldn’t want to piss off the buyers?

Yes, my dear abolitionist peers, please do everything you can to wipe that whore horror from the face of this earth.

But when are you going to own up to the fact that the work isn’t bad for the independent whore? I’m talking about the whore I’ve been describing since page one. I’m talking about the indoor, pampered “escort” who controls her own livelihood. She creates the rules, and they’re self-benefiting. She makes her clients obey them. And here I go with my mantra, the one you seem to not hear: She fucks only when she wants to. She fucks only where she wants to. She fucks only who she wants to. And she uses protection when she wants to, no matter how much her clients complain. And she keeps all the money.

I am that whore.

Look at me.

Look at the other whores like me.

Melissa Farley, a published abolitionist researcher, insists that there’s “violence intrinsic to prostitution.”14 Of course there’s intrinsic violation, and perhaps even routine violence, in the world of controlled prostitutes. But I’ve not known one moment of violence as an “escort”.

Farley lists the common ailments of the coerced, the enslaved, and the abused. She mentions eating disorders. That’s interesting. When I became a sex worker, my bulimia stopped.


In my sharpest of Technicolor fantasies, I aid the abolitionists as a murderous bitch. I stride into a place where rapacious men are forcing women to whore, and I haul off and kick some balls. Or I coyly smile, place my face between legs, and summarily bite some balls off.

How’s that for abolition?

Just who do you ladies think you are, dominating the rescue effort for severely exploited whores? Those are my sisters, for God’s sake. Why aren’t you sending ME in there?

Why won’t you work with autonomous whores?


I grew up thinking that the Virgin is sacred because virginity is. Then I found out that it’s all a big spin, just the axis in the wheel of patriarchal control.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, it was female carnal knowledge that was sacred! The absolute opposite! Feminists are all supposed to know that; they’re supposed to support any woman who portrays that, but they don’t. They might encourage the virgins to go ahead and make love, but they won’t give happy hookers their due. They can’t seem to integrate them with the Primordial Temple Priestess. They don’t even seem to want to try.

What are you all so afraid of?

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I haven’t heard of many Women’s Studies departments that teach about inherent whore sanctity. Do any instructors routinely convey that the ancient whore-priestess has a counterpart in some of the whores of today? Is there anyone out there shedding light on the fact that the Christian Virgin is sorrowful to the point of being a drag, draped not only in grieving but also in “purity,” that dubiously honorable and profoundly bleak condition, that sad face of female self-denial? And that the pagan temple priestess whores lived in freedom and exuberance and joy?

According to a worldwide trove of prepatriarchal evidence, their daily, most basic activities were vital and health-imparting. They danced and sang for the living, ceremoniously wailed for the dead, and routinely created---and most likely invented---written words, music and art. They performed medicinal and spiritual healings in a sanctified realm of free love.

A Sufi proverb states that even their vaginal secretions were healing. Even their spittle could perform cures. Jesus’ cure of blindness by spittle, in the gospel of Mark 8:23, was copied directly from the priestesses’ cure. A clay tablet from Nineveh proclaims that eye diseases could be cured by a harlot’s spittle. 4

All of that fills me with wonder. I consider the phenomenon called mind-over-matter. Maybe the harlots were so revered that their bodies responded in kind; maybe their secretions became truly healing.

Can you imagine? Can you imagine saliva and vaginas biochemically empowered? In this day and age of deathly fear of each other’s bodily fluids, in this day and age of a world full of women who are shaky and skittish toward sex, in this day and age of feminine bodies that are commonly filled with disease, really, can you imagine?

But what if it was true!