Friday, June 01, 2007
$preadin' love, it's the Brooklyn way.
As many of you may know, I am often referred to as Maude Lebowski because I am fully prepped to lecture your ass on why you must NEVER, EVER call me "Miss" but must ALWAYS, even after I'm married, IF I DO GET MARRIED, call me "Ms.". I will scold you for putting your body-dysmorphic-bullshit guilt trip off on me when I happily chow down on a Snickers bar, an ice cold can of Dr. Pepper and a bag of Lay's, swimsuit season be damned. And let's not get started on the whole "cardio strip tease classes sound SOOOOOOOOOOOOO super fun!" movement that makes me want to foam at the mouth and kick.
Why, Brandy, you may be tempted to say. What is wrong with that? In short, I think it's dumb to teach upper middle class suburban dolts who have unlimited financial security how to imitate real life sex workers who chose to make money using their bodies, many times because of limited economic opportunity. It's a tough line of work, and I have a lot of respect for these women (and men). Who I do not respect are people that condem them, or who support illegal sexual trafficking by being uninformed about it, or who use their money to support hateful sexual imagery of women that hurts all of us.
I don't hate strip clubs, and I don't hate strippers in the least. I hate the majority of jerks who go to them, because it's been my experience that they on the whole dislike real interaction with women and would rather compartmentalize emotion into an economic transaction. Yuck. If you've ever paid for a lap dance because you want to "interact" with a woman (?!? WHAT), I think you're some kind of lame. I can understand it for other reasons, but if it's a substitute for TALKING TO SOMEONE HUMAN TO HUMAN than you are just repugnant.
Anyways, check out the excellent $PREAD magazine, made for sexworkers. Or you could check out the cool Sexworker's Project. Or you could get bent. Your choice.
End of rant.