Still winding down from a hectic weekend full of art, music, and travel. Friday night was the release party for Trigger 93. Thanks to everyone who came down and made it a good turnout! I read two spoken word pieces while Eric and Andy Laties accompanied me musically, and the crowd seemed to like them! And, since a few people expressed interest in being able to read them, I’m putting them up here.
This piece I actually read second, but I’m putting it first here because it was the stronger of the two. I wrote it the afternoon before the party after learning the day (Dec. 17th) had been designated as International Day To End Violence Against Sex Workers. Incidentally, it was the same day I learned that 166 Republican House leaders voted down a bill to prevent child marriages.
The House Leader and The Sex Worker
© 2010 Jenny Gonzalez-Blitz
I heard that today is some sort of International Day To Stop Violence Against Sex Workers. I paused from reading my Daily News interview with serial killer Joel Rifkin, talking about how he specifically targeted prostitutes because “they had no families and it would be months before anyone came looking for them”, and I thought, “At last! It’s high time something was done about this!” But what to do, exactly?
I walked the hall of the museum where the work of a former street hustler had spoken from beyond the grave. He had once again had to be silenced by some Catholic’s delicate sensibilities. I thought perhaps this forcible silencing was also a form of violence, but my reflections on this were interrupted by the cheers of 166 Republicans, who today had struck down a bill against forced child marriages. There had been some concern among them that this would somehow lead to increased abortions. I wasn’t sure how, but it was of utmost importance that the unborn children be birthed so they could be forced into arranged marriages and human trafficking! So what if all this plays into a never ending cycle of poverty? Without poverty where would we get more sex workers? The johns tire of the old ones so quickly. Without poverty how can we economically coerce the girls to take a facefull of diseased cum from one of our “extra special” clientele in the back room? They must be kept in fresh supply; he keeps following them from the club after work and chopping them to bits! What good are they then?
Oh, but we must allow for it. You sluts must accept this as your lot you see, because it’s done metaphorically to us everyday of our lives. Day in, day out, John Q. Public dons his corporate attire to take it in the face and be ripped apart by his bosses, his priests, his government, anyone higher up on the food chain, basically. John’s frustrations must be taken out on someone. He’s paid you to be the silver screen his failures and inadequacies and sexual shame get projected onto! So, while you sex workers are a valued part of our team, it’s just not possible to stop visiting violence upon your persons. Our system relies on it. and by the way don’t be so sour. Do you know how many girls would be honored to have the attention of a pro ball player anyway? Even if he didn’t follow the agreed-upon rules of the encounter? So what! Sports are the American dream! You’re just the American jerk-session.
As my knife slashed into the Rulemaker’s gut, spilling blood screaming brightly onto the Smithsonian tiles, I was accosted by a Second Wave Feminist. She didn’t want to turn me in for what I’d done, but she berated me soundly for sympathizing with the other sex workers in they first place. They were so obviously complicit in their own objectification. She was followed by a Third Waver who, furious that I hadn’t declared my time in the sex industry the Most Empowering Thing Ever, held a gun to my head and demanded I pay her $500 for a print of her labia and asshole, cuz’ she was an artist too.