You’re right — supporting sex workers in education isn’t glamorous. It’s advocating for change.
There is a time and a place to talk about sex work. Like the act itself, it is best shrouded in some secrecy — after all, you never know who you’re going to offend. Recently, the University of Durham’s decision to introduce sex work support services has caused a great deal of controversy, with people commentating from both sides of the Atlantic on the decision.
Diane Abbot recently announced via her Twitter page:
As a sex worker and current student, the resistance of politicians and social commentators (who naturally are not directly involved in the lives of sex workers and therefore know very little about what we need practically ) to the decisions universities like Durham and Leicester have made in order to supports sex workers, is concerning for many reasons.
Beginning university at the beginning of the pandemic was an interesting experience to say the least, but one I certainly don’t regret (despite the fact I have effectively paid £9000 for a year of online tuition.) As a mature student, university is not quite what it would have been if I was eighteen, fresh out of sixth-form, bright eyed and hungry for (alcohol-infused) experience. Being on the other side of twenty-five, it has been my life experiences that have led me to my degree of choice, and not the other way round. One of those interests is sex work advocacy; two years ago I founded Sex and Rage, a sex worker led advocacy and rights organisation providing alternative sex education for the wider public. Our focus is broad, but ultimately, we are a platform engaging with the philosophies and politics of pleasure, power, censorship and body autonomy.
As a working class woman, my motivations for starting university stemmed from a variety of reasons. Perhaps, I am not ashamed of saying, one of them was my ego; I found myself becoming sensitive to the fact that, when people realised I did not have a university education, they expressed certain behaviours that made me think they valued my voice and opinions less than if I had a degree. Of course, I believe in the importance of education, however for a variety of reasons, I found it inaccessible to me in the past. As a sex worker, I have become passionate about sex workers rights, and in particular I am interested in how the question of sexual freedom relates more widely to civil liberty, class structure and freedom of expression more generally. Which brings me back to the current issue: preventing sex workers from accessing support within their institutions potentially and ironically could prevent us from “exiting” our professions in the future, which, according to an article by Dr Debra Soh (who's work, let it be know, I very much respect) should be a primary motivation.
There is a broader issue here — where and when exactly is it acceptable to talk about the safety of sex workers? The suggestion that many people seem to be making is certainly not within institutes of higher education. In her article, Soh comments:
“Women should be free to make their own decisions and bear the associated responsibility. But promoting this lifestyle as more glamorous and enlightened than working in fast food, as many sex work proponents do, is foolish and irresponsible.”
The irony is that there couldn’t possibly be anything less glamorous than an educational facility offering basic support for a vulnerable group. And anyone who has done sex work knows that it is far, far from being glamorous. For that matter, men may pay the bills — they most certainly don’t bring nirvana. Many sex workers advocate against the glamorisation of mainstream media portrayals of sex work. Most of the edited representations you see of us online are just that — fantasies, extensions of our work and public persona that are as much part and parcel of our jobs as any other person who must maintain a public image, from musicians to models, politicians to princes. We make our own decisions as much as anyone else — because sex work is not, as many people claim, sex exploitation or trafficking (this is another subject for another article, but in the mean time, dear reader, you can read about the necessary differences between the two here.) We are people who make real, complex choices, not arbitrarily, but after a great deal of thought and weighing of options. No form of sex work is “easy money” — it takes a great deal to do what we do, and not everyone, as some may think, can do it. Otherwise, wouldn’t it follow that everyone would?
I’m in the extremely privileged position that I have always been open with my close friends about what I do for a living, and to have their acceptance. My family also knows, and I am incredibly lucky to have their love regardless. Because I have always had the opportunity to speak to people about my work and the challenges I face, it has alleviated the pressure of not being able to talk openly, which in turn has had a positive impact on my mental health. The sex workers I know who have supportive families tend to have better mental health, or, at the very least, have somewhere stable and safe to turn when they do not.
Support does not necessarily look like encouragement, as Soh seems to be implying in her article. (Diane Abbott and other Labour MPs who are so vehemently against listening to sex workers should take care — Labour is already suffering from a shrinking electorate and many sex workers, who have voted Labour in the past, will do doubt be put off from the parties stance on sex work.) What Durham University is offering equates to harm reduction, assistance and advice, which many young sex working students may not be able enough to receive in their personal lives. By feeling that they need to stay quiet about their work and their circumstances, they risk exposing themselves to further danger. As Soh mentions, being outed is in itself a major cause of psychological distress for many sex workers. I know of several sex workers from small towns who have been ostracised or ridiculed by their whole community once they are outed. This is exactly why destigmatising conversations around sex work within educational institutions themselves is so necessary — by creating environments where sex workers are allowed to express themselves freely whilst also undertaking study is an invaluable asset to us, now and in the future.
The reality is that these services are most likely to attract sex workers who are working class, with disabilities, from unstable homes or with other access issues — those who are most at risk of exploitation. To suggest that these services “glamorise” sex work obscures the reality of sex worker’s lives and creates challenges for the continued existence of such services.
I am going to university to create opportunities for myself that, for a variety of reasons, were not previously accessible to me. It is only now in my late twenties that I understand to a fuller extent how being working class has impacted my socio-economic development. Sex work has offered me some financial reprieve and the flexibility to pursue other interests that other forms of work simply wouldn’t have. We must be supportive of sex workers within education — otherwise, we are simply sending the message that there is something to be ashamed of.
artwork by Becca Human @becca.human
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