The Happy Hooker

The Happy Hooker

If we aren’t all happy hookers then we are trafficked? Jesus, this is somewhat of a singular view of sex work. Women are in prostitution for many reasons, my reasons are simple, I could not have provided the quality of life for myself and family with out the aid of laying on my back, or being on my knees. Simple! If I have to make a choice between watching my children starve, or sucking cock to put food on the table, then suck cock it is. This ‘either or’ about a group of women who have chosen a certain way to make a living is getting to the point of lines being drawn in the sand and loins being girded.

Do I have bad days, yes. There are days that the only people calling me, I am convinced are those who are in-between having their medication adjusted. Or have been let on from the halfway house and having no money or life, but free texts decide to pester the hell out of every lady in the newspaper. Days like this are the ones that make me refocus on my purpose for working. But my good days far out weight the bad ones, and on occasion I will even have a great fabulous and fantastic day. Just like anybody else in any other job. If a hooker has a bad day, it means she is trafficked. Jesus, who are running these organizations?

Am I a happy hooker, yes, I am. Why because my family is warm, fed, clothed, and happy. They don’t have to worry about shoes for their little, well large feet now a days. Or when the school fees are due, there are no embarrassing conversations or threatening letters demanding payment. The house is heated to tropical temperatures, because I don’t want them getting cold from drafts. The cupboards and the fridge is stocked. Their bellies are full, and they are spoiled. Yes, my wee ones are spoiled, they have all the modern cons, and a bit more. Why because I as their mother, have a responsibility to seeing to their well-being and will do whatever I can to see that they are cared for.

Yes, I am fucking delirious with joy, I don’t have to stand in a dole line, or food line, or ask family members if I can get a handout. I hold my head high, because I can care for my children on my terms. And if working as a hooker has given me that freedom, then viva la prostitution. If that was taken away from me, I would and so would my children be fucked. Forget the nice house we now live in with each having a room, and a play area in the back yard for a small army to gather and have maneuvers. Forget the nice holidays to tropical places in the cold months. Forget the very nice private schools they are all currently attending, forget getting a decent education. Forget them having a future!

But if some organizations had their way this is what would happen. Then would they help me, I seriously doubt it, I wouldn’t and have never fallen into their definition of the ideal victim. Because I am not a victim. Why is being a hooker automatically equated with being a victim? Do they even care that not all women are not trafficked, no not really. They need a drum to beat, and the tattoo at the current moment is that all prostitutes are victims and need them to make decisions about our lives for us. Piss off! Go and do something worthy, like helping the real victims of trafficking, like the little Chinese girl working inhuman hours in the back kitchens of her ‘uncle’s’ restaurant. She needs rescuing, no me. I am more than capable of taking of myself.

Stop looking at the only one facet of the gem. There are many sides to the women who work in the industry. Not all of us are trafficked, or addicted. Some of us have chosen to be right where we are. Why, because we are able to care for our loved ones and have peace of mind. If fucking or sucking cock makes my babies sleep sweeter at night, then bring on the cocks!

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