“I’m Not a Hooker, I’m an Escort.”
By: Jomé Rain
Tags: Prostitution, Escorts, Sex Work, Fostasesta, Sex Worker Rights

When people ask me what I do to earn money, I like to be blunt.

“Tu fais quoi dans ta vie?” “I’m a hooker.”

This tends to get a strong reaction. Usually I am asked more about what that means, and after a period of my describing my work, a sigh of relief is released.

“Ahh, you’re not a hooker, you’re an escort.”

Withholding an eye roll, I ask —

“Whats the difference?”

From there, I get the pleasure of being told how what I do is not so bad as being a hooker or a prostitute, because I am classy. I am 5 star hotels and Agent Provocateur presents. I am not Bois de Boulogne, or stilettos on a street corner, I am (was) sipping Champagne in a penthouse in Monaco.

These are the things that make my job glamorous instead of tragic or shameful. These are the things that allow people to continue to respect me.

I’ve had friends debate me on the aggression of the words I use to self describe, like hooker, or whore. They tell me that by saying this, the connotation is immediately disturbing, and I agree. I know that many people are disturbed by my word choice, and that is exactly why I choose them.

People outside of the sex industry are very quick to label various forms of sex work as inherently empowering or degrading based on their personal views. Fucking a stranger in a king sized bed with satin sheets is alright, even a bit exciting — but giving head in an empty carpark is simply sad, even sickening.

Even within the community of full service sex workers, there is a hierarchy being created. The “high class companion” who charges $500 an hour and works to pay off her grad school tuition is perceived as innately more valuable and respectable than the migrant on the street corner who charges 20 bucks a session to put food in their mouth.

In shared online spaces for sex workers, we see a similar trend. It is on brand to flaunt expensive gifts and look down on other workers who do not have the privilege (or illusion) of safety that we do. The common enemy becomes the survival worker who offers bareback (unprotected) services, and not the societal conditions under which risking one’s safety often doubles as a meal ticket.

I entered the sex industry as a survival worker, and the boundaries that I am able to set in this industry have evolved over time. I have never worked on the streets. I am well aware of the privilege that I’ve had to be able to make first contact with all of my clients through a screen, or within the walls of a secured brothel. I acknowledge this privilege, and I will not let it separate me from my fellow workers who do not have the same.

The 2018 passing of the FOSTA / SESTA bills has been a huge hit for sex workers who found their sources of income primarily through the internet. A frequently used argument in protest of this ruling has been that by policing the internet, sex workers will be forced to work on the streets.

But long before these bills were passed, sex workers were working on the streets. There were and still are marginalised people (primarily LGBT / POC) being assaulted and murdered in parks, private homes, shadowy streets. The war cries to protect them must be just as loud as those to respect the call girls in Givenchy heels.

I call myself a hooker, because when we discuss the rights of sex workers, it can’t just be about respecting the WASPy grad student, or promoting the modern woman’s agency over her own body.

“An injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” -Martin Luther King Jr.

While forms of ‘acceptable’ sex work become more mainstream and less stigmatised (see: OnlyFans, Diary of a Call Girl, You Me Her) — it is imperative that we do not build our visibility on the premise of shaming the workers who remain in the shadows. In an industry that most enter because of class disadvantage, we cannot allow a new form of classism to arise.

When we want to protect the college student, or the modern feminist, we must also fight to protect the addicted, the mentally ill, the houseless. There is no room for hierarchy. Just as much as I am a call girl and a companion, I am also a hooker and a prostitute. I will not shy from language to make myself palatable while my fellow sex workers face criminalisation, violence, and death. We stand together, or not at all.

Today is International Sex Worker Pride Day. If you’re feeling like celebrating or supporting, here’s a link to donate to SWOP (Sex Worker Outreach Program) — my favourite organisation, and an incredible resource for sex workers and those outside of the industry looking to learn more about it.

Sending big love from this little tart,

Jomé