Moving On

I’ve had some time away from blogging as I’ve moved to Melbourne and not been online much. Through the three and a bit years I spent in Sydney, some part of me was always somewhat critical, somewhat held back, as the cultural differences between Adelaide, where I grew up and Sydney were often too stark. Although being a very out, extremely visible sex worker in a small place like Adelaide was eventually draining and the smallness of the queer scene meant fringe groups and minority queers were isolated; moving to Sydney made me appreciate so many things about the city-of-white-picket-fences-and-a-scarily-large-amount-of-churches-without-even-archetural-justification that I had left.

While I loved so many things about Sydney – Gurlesque and SLIT Magazine, that femme dykes were visible and that in some queer community spaces, being a whore was no big deal, the persistent lack of etiquette of the too-large-too-fast-and-too-easily-distracted-big city never stopped rankling with me. From the first few months when I was constantly blown away by people repeatedly bumping into others on footpaths, and never apologising, through to people’s crap behaviour within queer and alterna networks, including bullying and harassment, general online crap behaviour and high school mean girls behaviours in venues. For me, this was neatly summed up in a story I heard from a friend a few weeks before I left town, of a woman in the punk scene who broke up with her girlfriend, only to find that the ex had dealt with her post-break up feelings by producing a zine that spewed hatred and negativity at the woman, and distributed it at every gig she went to. The second aspect of this story is that no one ever seemed to challenge the embittered ex on her crap behaviour, and were happy to get their copy of the zine, for all the juicy details. I don’t pretend that this kind of behaviour is an exclusively Sydney phenomena, but that it can be easier to get away with things in a bigger city. I guess even though I hated that everyone always knows your business in a smaller city, that because in Adelaide everyone pretty much knows everyone, or at least only one degree of separation, that I felt that people didn’t try to fuck each other over quite so overtly.

Either way, I’m hoping that Melbourne will be a happy medium. So far I’ve been overjoyed at seeing manners displayed on a daily basis in my travels, but with the things I enjoy about bigger cities: butch-femme, trans and gender queer communities happening and putting on events, large ethnic and cultural communities coexisting and doing their own thing, and lots and lots of options for places to go and things to see.

My time so far has been spent getting lost, then finding my way back to somewhere I know (my technique for learning about new cities and new computer programs alike), learning about the local public transport quirks and finding my way in a new sex industry, governed by different laws.

The other day on the train I put together the reason I think I have experienced more weirdness from random strangers than usual. The person I am involved with is a transman and is at that stage of transition where he is passing a significant amount of the time, but passing as a teenage guy. So while I’ve long been used to getting filthy looks by elderly women, it’s usually when I have tattoos on display, or when I’m wearing something low cut or short, lately I’ve been dressed for a Melbourne winter, with nothing but my face and hands visible. The penny finally dropped, and I became aware that he is occasionally mistaken for a 16 year old, whereas I am far from looking like a teenager – so when we are behaving in amorous ways, it can confront some social mores, to say the least. As someone who is used to being involved with significantly older partners, it was an odd feeling to be pegged as a dirty old woman preying on a teenage boy…. Good thing I have a sense of humour, a healthy ego and that I celebrate each year further away from the tumultuousness and instability of my 20s. I just hope no one reports me to DOCS!

Ooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Clowns!

And hooray for a new issue of SLIT!

Reminder: media workshop for sex workers

Is this Saturday. For more information, see http://www.scarletalliance.org.au/

RSVP by calling 9326 9455.

All sex workers are invited to free training this Saturday.
26th May, 2007 - 10am - 2pm
Love the Media and it'll Love You - Tips for Sex Workers and the Press
Make no mistake sex workers are very popular with the media. But is there a way for sex workers to take advantage of this, and not just be left feeling used and exposed? It's a challenging task but we'll look at specific cases sex workers have been able to benefit from media events. We'll look at how to pitch media releases,and how to prepare for yourself an interview. So bring your ideas along and tell us what you want. We aim to please at the highest levels. This workshop is for sex workers only
Presenters: Eurydice Aroney lectures in Radio Journalism at the University of Technology. She's worked at the ABC for many years and is an active supporter of sex worker rights. Kerrie Jean Ross has been a print, radio and TV journalist for 30 years (god damit!). She's also a true believer when it comes to workers rights and unionsism. Kerrie jean has also taught journalism at a tertiary level.
Venue: Ground floor of the Albion Street Centre, Cnr Albion and Crown Streets, Surry Hills, Underneath the Scarlet Alliance Office.
RSVP on 9326 9455 or on the day if you have trouble finding the workshop space call 0411985135

As part of the range of activities surrounding International Whores Day

Update on random things

Scabaret

Zoo and I did the roving performance thing again with Milk’n’Cookies at Scabaret, the opening performance night of the Sheila Autonomista festival (“independent, non-corporate, non-profit, women's art, cultural, political, activist festival held in Sydney”).

When we arrived, we were greeted by the ever wonderful Wife who was excitingly competent and looked sternly over a clipboard. After getting detention from the English teacher at Queer Prom, I seem to be developing a clipboard-and-glasses fetish.

The Milk’n’Cookies piece, I was thinking initially, was the first piece of performance I have done which is not political in anyway…. However, after doing it a second time, and with more of an anarcho feminist queer grrrl crowd than Velvet (where we’d previously Milk'n'Cookied) would attract, I’ve changed my mind.

Now I realise how interesting it is in terms of people’s reactions to ‘invading’ personal space, even when I am in fact inviting them to eat cookies from my cleavage. Lots of fodder for thinking about what is appropriate or inappropriate in public spaces, and I’m now thinking about a performance art piece I read about that was performed in a shopping mall (was it by Holly Hughes?) where the performer walked around with a cardboard box over her torso, with a curtain at the front – she invited people to put their hands under the curtain and feel her breasts – they could feel, but not look, and the whole time she is making polite everyday conversation with them, in an open air shopping mall, without breaking obscenity laws in any way. I love this idea of presenting people with the opportunity to play with their ideas of what is sexy, what is polite, what is a personal boundary, what is a necessary social limit, and what is merely customary……

Also, using references from traditionally str8 porn/raunch culture – by Zoo saturating me in milk (I was moaning and groaning and flicking my hair around, ala girl doing a bikini carwash, under this milk bath) has got to be disorientating in this kind of queer feminist space…



Writing

I actually started this blog in part, to encourage regular writing practice, and there are times when it looms before me, when I have no creative urges or burning passion about any one issue, so I “cheat” and post notices of sex worker rights events or media about sex worker issues….

Writing has been a nightmare for me lately, with an utter lack of creativity and scary computer screens or very empty note book pages…. I have to do two articles for my non-sex work, and have another submission to do for an external source. I had a weekend spent in long painful labour for another writing project…. On the Monday, I finally ended up sitting through over 10 hours of writers block, including all the doubt and fear and feelings of not having any skill whatsoever that happens at times like this. However, I forced myself to sit and let the words come at their own sweet time… Finally when I had exactly the right number of words, I emailed it off, without even a final read through. Ruthless but necessary.

Now the other pieces seem like more of a possibility… sometimes only sitting through the fear will bear fruit.

International Whores Day Events in Sydney

International Whores Day has a rich history, starting in 1975 when a group of sex workers staged a sit in at a Church in Lyon in France, to protest the discrimination against sex workers.In Lyon, France on June 2 1975, sex workers and their supporters took over a church and staged a sit in over a number of days. The action was in protest against the increasing number of arrests of street sex workers, police harassment of them and the lack of interest shown by the police in solving murders and other crimes committed against them. This action inspired other sex workers around the world to start to organize themselves politically, giving birth to the sex worker rights movement that we have today. International Whores Day has been described as the sex workers Stonewall.

In Sydney this year, Scarlet Alliance: Australian Sex Workers Association and local sex worker groups are putting on a number of events around Inernational Whores Day in Sydney.

There is a workshop for sex workers only for developing skills in dealing with the media (contact me or Scarlet Alliance for more info)

also

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Film Night! Short films by and about sex workers all over the world, and a sneek peak at local talent also! See a few Australian premieres as well as some old favourites. Come and be entertained by sex workers stories on film.


Who: Everyone

When: Thursday 31st May, 7pm – 9pm

Where: 349 Crown Street, Corner of Albion Street, Surry Hills

How Much: $10


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International In-Service on International Sex Workers! From Taiwan to Phnom Penh, from Poland to Bangladesh, the intrepid travellers of the Scarlet Alliance Migration Working Party will present on issues at home and abroad. This is a fundraiser for the future travel of members of the Working Party.

Who: Everyone, please RSVP to info@scarletalliance.org.au or 9326 9455

When Wednesday 6th June, 10.30 for an 11am start – 2pm

Where: 349 Crown Street, Corner of Albion Street, Surry Hills

How Much: $50, includes lunch.


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Red Umbrella Solidarity Event! This afternoon will be one to remember!!! We ask supporters to show solidarity with sex workers and keep the customs of International Whores Day alive. In Lyon, France, in 1975, supporters of sex workers joined in unity with local sex workers to ensure the sex workers' children were not taken away by authorities. This important gesture of community spirit still means so much today – we would love to see you at Sydney Opera House on the 3rd of June. Bring red umbrella, colourful mask and sense of fun!

Who: Sex Workers and Supporters

When: Sunday 3rd June, 2pm

Where: Sydney Opera House Forecourt

How Much: Free!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.................misuse of the whore word

Gurlesque last night was wonderful in so many ways as usual. Glita's nun piece once again left me both squeally and speechless. Minx Contortionista doing Dietrich. Strawberry Pop being too cute for words. Sex in shower cap (well, it worked for me). Handyboi and Lillian Starr doing Bond. Wife and Domino - the joy of gorgeous activist women. Miss Sindy Ray bunnying. Madam Phantasm bunnying. Zoo bunnying.

However, despite all round fabbiness of the night.... two whole acts felt the need to use the word whore in a derogatory sense. What was even more disappointing, in this community which usually feels quite a whore positive and accepting space for me, is that all three performers involved with those two acts have attended Debby Doesn't Do It For Free performances, and have spoken to us about how much they like what we do. Also,considering the politics of the performers, I doubt they would ever consider using racist, sexist, transphobic, homophobic or ablist language, so why the hell would they use whore in a insulting, negative way?

Considering that I - and many of my fellow Debbys - will use the word whore, both in performance and general conversation, I feel I should probably clarify my position on this issue. When a group of gay men will affectionately refer to themselves as a bunch of fags, this has very different meaning or intention than a homophobic str8 man passing by, hurling the same words out in derision. Sex workers are reclaiming language, just as other queers are. However, non-sex workers should be careful about how those words are used. When in doubt, refer to sex work and sex workers. If you are looking for insulting language to describe women's - or anyone's sexuality - may I ask why you want to perpetuate sex negativity? And please stop any euphemisms for sex workers as metaphors for selling out a value system. We don't actually. We provide consensual, negotiated services for a fee. It is only the pervasive sex negativity present in our culture that considers these acts as immoral.

For more, including a snippet on the history of the word whore, see:

http://www.scarletalliance.org.au/issues/terminology/

Magdalene-esque

After Oestrus bunnying at Sly with Zoo and others - with the Sydney debut of my fabby chocolate vulvas, and wonderful performances by Wife - who managed to incorporate cats and aproning..... dribble........ and the lurverly Lillian Starr..... I will be hocking my ass on Good Friday for the first time in years. We'll see if guilt over the death of the consort keeps the men away.

I really should be spending tomorrow weeping at the foot of a cross, for he whom I have anointed for burial, and performing menstruation/ fertility rituals with blood red eggs, however, for the sake of my purse, I'll stick to the activities of the profane harlot, this year. After all it's not the right time for this festival in the Southern Hemisphere.

For the non-sacred whore/ pagan types who want to know what I'm on about, leave a comment. And have a nice time over the long weekend, everyone.

The Notorious Whore Stigma

I went to see The Notorious Bettie Page on Monday night. I know it has gotten some pretty mixed reviews, but I really liked it (and not just for the shoes – although they were pretty good). A lot of reviews I have read seem to see the film as an amiable bit of fluff – and probably not delving deeply into the motivations of Ms Page….

I felt it was a pretty accurate reflection of everything I had read about Bettie’s life, and she has – since being told by God not to pose anymore – been pretty reclusive and very unwilling, it seems, to give detailed analysis of her motivations or actions. I really liked the fact that the film reflected the fact that she was so body positive and to a remarkable extent, didn’t take on much of the shame and stigma associated with nudity, porn or BDSM. Her sense of ‘lets have fun with this’ that is so present in every image taken of her is very explicit in the film also. So joyful. However, the aspect of the film which spoke to me most profoundly was the way she was perceived by others – the fact that she had done things that put her in the category of sexual/ abandoned/ slut, and the limits that this put on Bettie occupying other territories. While she seemed rather stilted as an actor, there is one scene where she is at an audition – probably wasn’t brilliant, but one of the men involved with casting said to her something like, “such a pleasure to meet the notorious Bettie Page” (obviously, giving the film it’s title), this line gave me a horrible sinking feeling, as I imagine it would for other sex workers and those working in other adult industries, as it was a clear indicator, that with her history of nude/ pin up/ fetish modelling, she would be kept out of ‘respectable’ entertainment due to her notoriety.

I was 19 when I first started working in brothels in Adelaide, and within a few months, I was in court to get a number of charges of ‘being on premises’ dealt with together and avoid a conviction…. Getting up in the Magistrates Court, in front of all those people, being identified as a sex worker in such a public way, against my will – as opposed to all those times I’ve chosen outness as a political tool – that feeling still stays with me. The shaming involved in these practices are designed to make you feel like a bad, bad grrrl. However, the irony is that we live in a society that wants to stop sex work, yet sex work convictions, and the naming and shaming of much of our cultural practices – whether it’s the NSW practice of forcing home based sex workers to post DAs on their front gates alerting the neighbours of the nature of their businesses in order to obtain planning approval, the ACT and NT practice of a registration system for individual sex workers, or the criminalisation of WA and SA sex work, reduces sex workers options outside of sex work. While many sex workers may not wish to leave the sex industry (myself included), liberation is about multiple choices, and in order to eradicate the whore stigma, we need to break down the categories of madonna and whore, and stop making sex workers into a special class of people.

sex worker rights real time : whore defiant. Sex worker rights film and discussion night

You are invited to an evening of short films about sex worker rights, next Friday 16th March from 6-9pm at Jura Books 440 Parramatta Rd, Petersham, Sydney.

an evening of diverse, dynamic shorts by sex worker film-makers from canada to cambodia, presented by women from the australian sex worker rights movement.

direct cinema
is a non-profit project
suggested donation $5.00
to help cover running costs.

yapping out loud -contagious thoughts from an unrepentant whore bridge-it taylor from the sleazy feminists in the business of getting whores out of business organisation by mirha-soleil ross, montreal, canada.i know, she walks decriminalise debby, debby doesn’t do it for free, australia.sex for sale on wall street with prostitutes of new york for the interstate solicitation tour, carol leigh/scarlot harlot, san francisco.hand relief janelle fawkes, australia.legalisation sucks maxine doogan, usa.sex work in cambodia womens network for unity, cambodia & art resistance tv.the fine line of morality clare mannion, debby doesn’t do it for free, australia.
footage blends cartoon, vj style culture jamming, documentary, mashing up mainstream footage, experimental and fantasy narratives from the deeply underground sex worker rights genre. including: classic carol leigh east coast camp; whore/madonna dilemma in 80s sydney brothel drama; guerrilla style self documentation of new york protests; transsexual whore activism – artistic and political interventions; cambodian sex workers organise against bill gates drug trials; australian experimental media jam and more!

sex worker rights film has a modern history that comes together bi-annually at the carol leigh (scarlot harlot) san francisco international film festival.

Slit Magazine Launch - the T Show

Everyone probably knows all about this event, but I’m posting about it anyway, as there is a sexy picture of Sex on the flyer.

Femme Fest

The multitude of glorious femme presences in Sydney is very exciting. I attended the opening of Domestic Love @ Kudos Gallery, Paddington on Tuesday. Gorgeous art by glorious femmes, some serious frockage worn by attendees and they served pink iced cupcakes and musk sticks *sigh!*
If you haven’t seen this exhibition yet, I highly recommend it – femmy/ domestic/ housewifery themed art, all curated by the amazingly beautiful and talented Lady Penelope.

Another femme happening I've been a part of (as participant, rather than voyeur) was Zoo and my roving Milk 'n' Cookies roving performance at Velvet. A quick rundown: Us wearing sturdy foundation garments and aprons roving through crowd. Zoo wearing fake bosoms, one full of soy, one full of cow milk. I am carting picnic basket full of cookies. Crowd members asked if they would like milk & cookies. Cookie inserted in cleavage - Zoo squirts with milk of choice, people consume from cleavage. Lots of fun with femme/ mummy feeding/ nurturing paradym. I ended up with crumby, milky, salivery cleavage and bra. Messy, grrrly, silly fun had by all.

I loved the fact that the most enthusiastic feedees where dykes around the 50+ mark. Much burying of heads in breasts and noisy joyful sounds. Yummy. (Oh, and I can now die happy, having fed a former Playschool presenter from my cleavage, and while most managed to get the whole cookie in one mouthful, it took her at least three bites - I love my life sometimes). Despite pre-performance prop dramas (and some considering of calling in a good-with-hir-hands butch), this was one the most hasslefree piece I've ever been involved with. No lines to learn. No 'fluffing' required. Quite liberating to know that sometimes all you need in a great concept - thanks and spanks to Madam Phantasm - cute costumes, well behaved breasts, up-for-it performers and a receptive crowd. This was also the only non-whore related performance I've done for about 10 years, and first time ever with Zoo - except for some strange nights at Sly, that could arguably be called performance....For Zoo's write up of the frivolity, and more pics, see here.

Must clean or the spiders will be wearing my clothes next

After taking it a bit easier for a few weeks, less trashiness at the Sly Fox, more relaxed forms of socialising - Wizard of Oz watching with Madam Phantasm, lunches and coffees with Zoo, walks in the park with a charming gentlebutch and New Years Eve picnicking with whore activists - the last week and a bit has been full on - adventures at Gurlesque (in which Wife was amazing - all exuburance, sexy bondage and a very lucky bottle) and Veronica from the US reminded me that good spoken word is hotter than nudity, any day of the week. Back to the Sly for rather disappointing show with Sex and Glita away (hooray for the fabric twirling boy though), and dinners out all the time, Spurs For Jesus for Zoo's natal anniversary and dinner for mine, I'm a leetle puffed out and need a good lie down.

The aim of taking space is to ease back into my own body - to recover from the energy I put out in frantic social spaces. And I need to recover sufficiently to feel up to engaging with the housework, right now.

My space is in absolute choas. I keep finding diamantes imbedded in my carpet - I don't know where they've come from. Everything is covered in a thick film of my (head) hair and cat fur. There has been a silver false eyelash caught in a spiders web half way up my kitchen wall for at least a month. I guess I should be pleased that at least my chaos is undeniably femme chaos. However, I think June Cleaver would be horrified, all the same.

I do have this grand plan of wearing a french maid uniform in the hopes that this will inspire me to clean (will turning it into a fetish activity be enough motivation)? Or possibly erecting an altar to Hestia (Vesta in the Roman tradition) a goddess after June Cleaver's own heart she rules over the hearth and home, never leaving or involving herself with outside concerns (will turning cleaning into religious practice provide the imputus).?

Debby Alert

Debby Doesn't Do It For Free at Gurlesque. This Sunday at Gurlesque, Debby Jelly Belly will be performing Olympic Whore. Also performing is Wife.

Debby Diamante Dildo Harness (um, that would be me) will be doing Unrepentant - with assistance from Disorganised Debby and Decriminalise Debby - at the February Gurlesque show.

(Slighty grumpy) random thoughts on friendships and community*

Negotiating friendships in a new town has certainly been a rollercoaster. I've tried to keep open and allow myself to refrain from making snap judgements. Being really out about my sex work has almost always made new friendships challenging - many people have assumed I'm sexually available to them even when I'm being clear that isn't the case. I've never understood why people believe that someone who charges will be 'easier' than someone who always has sex for free. the fact that I'm comfortable with discussing sex in an explicit way can create further complications. It's sometimes assumed to be a come on, when for me I'm talking about the nitty gritty (and for a long-term sex worker totally unerotic) aspects of occupational health and saftey issues.

The idea that I'm often hypersexualised because of the whole whore thing by others is still funny for me. In my head I'm still the nerdy brunette who reads too much and is obsessed with politics rather than sex.

The fact that if I'm perceived to be very sexual that somehow makes me less worthy of respect is not at all funny.

I do find it a leetle outrageous that some 'enlightened' queer women will still police or disapprove of the concensual sexual practices of people within our own communities. I get quite pissed off that as a polyamorous sex worker I'm sometimes not considered to have boundaries. I get really pissed off that a woman can repeatedly ask me for sex after I've said no - and not realise that even though she has a cunt it's still sexual harassment.

I'm disappointed that in some ways we still replicate some heterosexual norms, in that women who are sexual are perceived to be less intellegent and less valuable. Will it take a return to 1970s era feminist conciousness raising groups before we truly that liberation is in part about demonstrating our politics in how we treat one another?

I've spent some time with women who would see themselves as anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-classist, etc - but who manage to treat the people around them in completely hideous ways. People who don't make the connections between big picture stuff, and the micro-level. Who aspouse great politics, but will happily bag someone for being fat, or not dressing stylishly, or being too vanilla, or not fitting in in other ways. Since when has being queer about fitting in? Some concerned, mumsy part of me has an image of a baby queer who has been suicidal and finally entered the community looking for safe space, only to find themselves once again on the outer. I'm not suggesting community members should fuck everyone, or befriend everyone, but humanity and niceness would be great.

I'm really interested in people who have great politics and great personal values. People who are compassionate and secure enough to not need to be funny at the expense of someone who's already standing awkwardly in the corner of the room. I have complete respect for people that demonstrate safe, sane and consensual and a real valuing of others - even if it's a one night stand, even if they or the other person is drunk, even if the other person has a 'reputation' I'm paying attention to people who want to be a part of my life to see if their behaviour matches up to what they say they believe in.

I have occassionally been appalled at witnessing some awful behaviour since I've been in Sydney, and become more watchful and disserning as a result. I'm very pleased to say I've also met some people who make me smile everytime I think of them.

* Some of the negativity in this post may be affected by lack of nicotine - I apologise - felt it was worth posting, all the same.

The Big Reveal

I’ve been out to Hellfire last Friday and to Sly Fox on Wednesday. Hellfire was fun. The last time I went, there was so many sleazy str8 guys wearing street clothes perving on the freaks and scantily clad women that I was a little put off. This time it was much better. Zoo was a beautiful human Christmas tree!

As I’ve been out and about I’ve run into people who I haven’t chatted to much lately, who let me know they’ve been reading this blog, and liking it. It was very nice to get positive feedback, but made me feel oddly vulnerable for a few moments. I’m not under any illusions that what is published in cyberspace is private, and with my activism, outness and performance, I’ve never been someone who exists solely in the private sphere. This blog was never going to be a series of random secrets and bitching. However, I did start thinking about what drives me to be so open and revealing of myself….

An intersex activist in Adelaide was speaking at a Feast forum on sex and gender a few years ago, and talked about how intersex people use their bodies as educational tools when giving others an insight into intersex issues. I thought about that at the time, and I feel that I use my lived experience a lot in making connections with others, increasing awareness about marginalised communities I identify with, and also as a way of offering support and shared experience for those people who have connected/similar happenings in their lives.

How public I am about my sex work/ queerness/ mental health issues is also a way of refusing stigma. I understand why many people can’t be open about these issues. They risk family and friends disowning them, possibly losing jobs or children. However, I can’t help feeling as if silence around this stuff contributes to stigma. Instead of arranging my points of marginalisation so that they fit into a closet and don’t impact on my life, I’ve arranged my life so I don’t have to be closeted. I chose to walk away from my biological family; I’ve chosen to only go for non-sex work jobs that allow me to be out about my work. I’ve tried really hard to keep my life free of bigots.

I’ve spent a lot of time challenging bigots in the public realm, like talk radio debates as an out sex worker with representatives from the Catholic Education Office in SA on sex work law reform. I don’t feel like I can do those things and be fighting the same battles with loved ones. It would just be exhausting. I need to be accepted, nurtured and celebrated in my private world in order to go into battle. I can’t be apologising for who I am, or never debriefing about a hard day, lest it reinforce a negative stereotype. I can’t be managing the embarrassment and discomfort of partners or family while I’m having things shoved up me on stage, or doing some sex positive education session at an event.

I refuse to take on the idea that depression, sex work or queerness are shameful, or need to be hidden. I feel like by my openness and normalising of these qualities must help in normalising them for others. After all, unlike heterosexuality, depression seems both normal and common…. and unlike homosexuality, depression can be cured if you seek support.

I think my approach to changing the world seems to be to imagine a world which feels safe for me and my kin, and live as if it’s already here. Sometimes this technique can hypnotise entire crowds into believing that queer dyke whores with mental health issues are the coolest people in the world. ;)

Spending your life trying desperately for safety and shying away from revealing anything sounds incredibly isolating to me. And far from avoiding stigma, for me it would be a daily reinforcement. However, I try to remember a statistic I heard many years ago – only about 4% of any community are activists. So it makes sense that not everyone has the kind of personality that embraces crusading for liberation at the expense of a truely private life.

If you stumble about Her Royal Whoreness, add a comment please. Tell me what you agree or disagree with. Interactivity is one of the joys of blogging.

Mess, Ghosts and Gurlesque

For someone who doesn't drink, I managed to get mighty messy last night. Red food colour stains on my new white Debby Doesn't Do It For Free pencil skirt (note to self: do not sit near stage when wearing white). Glittering pink and luscious red lipstick smears from hello kisses with fabby femmes. Gorgeous white fluffy boudoir slippers with stiletto heels now somewhat the worse for wear after someone dropped a glass of beer near pool table. I'm thinking of only wearing PVC from now on: if the worst happens, someone can turn a garden hose on me.

Worse than my sartorial woes was the feeling all through the night, wherever I turned, of being haunted by the ghosts of relationships past. Even more unsettling than my recent Adelaide adventures, all bar two of the women I've fucked or dated since moving to Sydney were out at the Impy - including the Evil Ex and the Crazy Ex. Clearly it's not necessary to have a near death experience to have your life flash before your eyes - a night out on the Sydney dyke scene ought to do it.

Those women I know who play and date within fairly restricted circles/ communities have my respect for their coping skills in navigating this crazy dance. I certainly wasn't managing well last night - but at the same time, couldn't escape as Disintigrated Debby was performing a piece in the last set of the night. My coping skills have been effected anyway this week, I've been working six days a week at my various jobs since Adelaide, and have had a flu thingie that seems to be going around - so mentally drained and not much immunity at the moment. It's the third time this month I've seen the Evil Ex - who just won't shrivel up and die, damn her. The cheshire cat (I've borrowed this metaphor from Zoo) is someone I've yet to build up immunity to. She still leaves me weak at the knees.

One by one they emerged and had their effect, not all of those I've bonked or dated had an unpleasant sensation attached - it's more the combination of all of them in the one space that was doing my head in. I was so distracted all night, I did little more than perfunctionarily greet several nice people, including a very nice woman I fucked during the last week. I feel ill-mannered and emotionally exhausted. After this Adelaide to Sydney ex-extravaganza - I've been forced to do some journeying into my past choices. Did I really spend five years in a relationship when we had no sexual contact after the first 18 months? Did I really fall madly in love with a woman who wasn't sober during sex for the first 3 months of our relationship, and was a mean and embarrasing drunk? Did I really allow myself to date several people who were ashamed of my dress sense, my sex work and my weirdness? Have I really been desparate enough to put everything into a relationship with a selfish creature who demanded more and more, til I drained myself of everything, only to have her dump me? Ouch!

Most of my risk-taking around my performance, activism, creativity and other choices have paid off. I've grown in strength and wisdom, and have become a more fully realised person. However, my partner choices at times have been truly awful.While my discernment over the last year has gotten better and better, I'm feeling like I should extend my current relationship ban to cover all partner sex for at least a while. I need to feel like my energy is put to best use right now, and my various work and Debbys commitments are overwhelming enough, without adding the sleep deprivation as well as mine and other people's at times unmanageable expectations to the mix. Any free time right now is best spent in self care, sleep and down time at home. At some stage I hope I'll be abe to reconcile some of my past choices - or maybe just know that I've really and truly moved to a healthier place, where I expect more from partners and demonstrate greater self respect in who I let in to my life, my bed, or toilet cubicle.

Disintigrated Debby was absoluely great. I'm so proud of her piece. I love her skill in making a relatively short piece about sex work, while also including other social justice issues. I have yet to achieve this feat in my Debby work. Still just raging away at sex negativity........

My learnings from the night:

• This is not new, but I love, love, love Gurlesque - Sex and Glita do fantastic pieces - witty, intellegent, political, and just silly - it's an amazing sex positive, woman positive forum for emerging performance art you just don't see other places.
• The Debbys are the most sucessful activism I've ever been involved with - creating spaces to celebrate whore culture and community, while inviting non-whores in to be tricked and treated into celebrating whores along with us.
• If you are dating asshole after asshole, there maybe something you need to examine within yourself - it can't all be coincidence.
• There are lots and lots of smart, sexy queer femmes in Sydney who have social consciences - I'm glad I'm getting to know a few of them.
• Never wear white in boozy crowded spaces.
  
  

Drag Queen Femininity

I was at Carmen's 70th birthday party Saturday night. I don't know her very well, but I enjoyed paying homage to a Sydney icon much more spectacular and much warmer and friendlier than the Opera House.

It was a bit of a whore fest for me, with several Debbys and other local sex worker activists in attendance. Yah for the tiny bit of whore community in Sydney - and I look forward to playing a part in it's growth and development.

The room was full of gorgeous Maori, Cook Island and Australian transwomen and drag queens. There was also two big floor shows - drag extravaganza! The problem with so much drag experienced all in one night is the sense I had afterward of failed femininity. Ordinarily I feel quite comfortable with my femme status, but last night, I felt inadequate. My emotions, jewelery and hair just isn't big enough! I don't wear enough sequins!

Mostly, I like being a low maintenance femme - I'm not the slightest bit princessy - I'm easy going and easy to be around. I have too much in the way of middle class manners to throw big diva like tantrums. However, I do have a bit of admiration for what I call the drag queen version of femininity - more means more, Elizabeth Taylor in her prime/ Zsa Zsa Gabor life style. Live big, demand more. I think sometimes (particularly in Sydney) shameless self-promoters get what they want, and the squeaky wheel gets the oil.

However, I have to accept that activism and drag queen femininity don't necessarily mix. While I can easily march in a protest in heels and a pencil skirt, activist movements aren't (or shouldn't be) the space for divas. I'm far more interested in building community and supporting progressive change for my communities than it all being about me.

It's only since spending time in the Sydney butch-femme community that my sense of being 'femme enough' was ever a concern. The policing and competition in small communities never fails to amaze me. It's played out in every community I've ever participated in, and it shocks and saddens me each and every time. However, I find myself buying into this stuff - not so much a policing of other's behaviour, but a scrutiny of my own. It's funny how that sense of being a teenager wanting to fit in never really leaves the psyche.....

I find it interesting that my models for femme aren't yet other femme dykes, but are still transwomen and drag queens. I find the acknowledgement of femme - and gender itself as performative (" We all came into this world naked, the rest of it is all drag." Ru Paul) and the bravery and grace demonstrated by the gender queer women in my life to still rock my world. The idea that flawlessly silky femininity isn't marred by large hands and feet, adams apples or voices of a lower register makes it more accessable - even to non-transwomen. I love the idea that femininity is so very precious and desirable that you will go to great lengths to acquire it. That is how I feel about it also.

Three things that have made me happy this month:

1 The return of Gurlesque! I was at the October 1st Gurlesque Sleaze Recovery, and was very, very happy to attend the first show of the season. It occurred to me how healthy and thriving the dyke/ queer women's alternative sex culture in Sydney is right now, and how important Gurlesque is to cultural change - the huge variety of acts on the one stage - lots with political content, or just very queer, and celebrating of diversity makes me very warm and fuzzy.

A huge highlight for me was Wife's piece. Beautifully cut (and later cut through) black satin frock, images of queer, anti-racism, sex worker rights, women's and broad left activism flashing up on the screen, red beads, silver sparkly stilettos, gorgeous lingerie and "Love is a Battlefield". Wife is always so amazing - a lovely, articulate, passionate, present femme woman. An inspiring human being as well as a performer. I love her use of trad-femme props - the name Wife, fabrics, sewing, fashion, cooking in a way that makes them metaphors for dissent, protest and empowerment, rather than buying into seeing femme frippery as inherently mundane, silly or symbols of oppression.

I also spent some of my time at Gurlesque buying loads of pussy pounds and tipping the cage dancers. I'm not usually that comfortable in the buyer mode; however it feels important for women consumers of erotic entertainment (stripping, sex work and porn) to get out the money and adequately reward the workers. While the cage dancers at Gurlesque may not always be professionals, it's about shifting the cultural messages that say that women don't pay for it. I'm hoping to lead by example.

Another highlight for me was that Zoo was one of the cage dancers, wearing her new cock and not much else. I had lots of fun giving her Spanish and blow jobs while tipping. Also leading by example in this area, it seems, as people stated being much more interactive with the cage dancers after that.

2 In preparation for an intense phase of concept development for performance pieces for the afore mentioned December Debby Show, I've been spending some (at the moment quite rare) free time steeping myself in sex worker culture. I've particularly enjoyed revisiting my long-term goal of promoting adelie penguins, one of the few (recognised) non-human species that engage in sex for gain, as mascots for the sex worker rights movement. This article , this one and this one are the basis of my obsession. I have also found joy in the fact that I can get stuffed Adelie penguins on line.

3. I seem to be on top (which is always good for me) of my latest depression episode. About six to eight weeks ago I started noticing a return of early depression symptoms. Increased sleeping difficulties, decreased motivation and concentration span. I've been off meds since the new year, and 2006 has been about self-care and a focus on mental health as a way of life for me. Some of the strategies that I've found really helpful have been: working through it - just head down, push on through stuff - being stronger and more focused that the depression, long brisk walks for about 5 - 8 hours, really committeded socialising and building up networks in Sydney, and saying affirmations (sounding like a complete egotist as I'm doing so, but it actually works).

When I recognised this new episode for what it was, I was really frightened - I know that after a decade of chronic depression, I'm not going to snap out of it easily, but I was terrified of losing the gains I'd made so far and slipping back into despair. What I did was immediately made a counselling appointment, informed my boss of my concerns and the possible affects on my work, and increased my busyness levels. I've found I can out-walk depression, and generally keep my body in constant motion (something about keeping the metabolism sped up seems to do great things for the seretonin levels. Having a brain too full of work, socialising and short and medium-term plans is also helpful at keeping the cognitive distortion negative thinking stuff at bay.

So my life feels pretty fabby right now. I feel very much in control of my mental health, and although pretty over-loaded and sleep deprived, I have so many joyful moments all the time, and some special things on the horizon. The best part is that all of the things that are important to me - sex worker activism, my pride and outness, my sex radicalism, my queerness, my femme identity, are all intact and nurtured.

Anyone who tells you you have to conform more, get in the closet (any closet) or develop hobbies that involve more knitting and less saving the world in order to find peace, stability or good mental health are lying and deeply cynical. Sometimes I feel that being true to the complex creature I am is the real achievement of my life. To discover I can maintain my messy, careening, passionate self and find community and emerge from depression is awe-inspiring. Blessed Be.

Animal crackers in my SLIT

Went to launch of SLIT Magazine's animal issue this Saturday with posse of whores - Decriminalise Debby, Discredited Debby and Sienna. I did pink pussy number just to wear new pink leopard print tail. Sienna did grey donkey - with eeyore ears and nose, Discredited did girrafe in order to wear spunky new gold boots - complete with giraffe plushy toy head nipples, Decriminalise did pony (of course) with pony plushy puppet as headwear and excellent improv hoof gloves. The only thing better than hanging with whore posse is whore posse in furry drag.

Pretty soon after we got there - and before many others had come in - I was introduced to an improv snake woman (snakeprint pants and some face paint) who responded with "Oh...another cat". AS IF YOU CAN HAVE TOO MANY CATS IN A ROOM!!!!!!!! I didn't bother responding, but I do try to be appropriate - and what could be more appropriate than a pink pussy at a SLIT launch? Hmmmph! *Sound of pure femme disdain*

I knew about maybe 30% of the launch attendees, enough to chat to. It's finally starting, after two years in Sydneytown - the first year mainly taken up with navigating financial aspects of surviving in big city with totally different sex industry and in trying desparately to resusitate a relationship that should have been compassionately euthanased - to feel like I might have a niche in this huge scary place.

The cow show was a highlight - leather, cow print body paint, 'branding', silly mooing song and milky udders all adorable. There is a silly playfulness and lack of contrived sexuality about SLIT launch performances that I really enjoy.