This is the preamble where I wave my cred around for a second. It’s over quick. Because I can’t even recall my feminist “awakening.” It may have been standing up to a kid in my eighth grade class who dropped an Adam-and-Steve joke in response to a teacher’s discussion around Magic Johnson coming out as HIV positive. (And I was still innocently shocked that the teacher didn’t call him out!) Maybe it was asking my mother why she never explained to me what an orgasm was, or, still pressing her after she replied, that yes, women could have one before marriage. My paste-up riot grrrl inflected underground newspaper in high school may have been the first time hundreds of people around me hung on my every political (ranted) word. I’ve got a huge mouth. I like to use it. Hanging in feminist political and social circles was the first time I was ever encouraged to just get louder until we got what we wanted.
(That isn’t to say I always feel welcome in those circles.)
And I’ve always had feminist men and feminist boys in my life. There was Darryl, who was a human rights activist at 14, and the first straight kid to step up and loudly support the Gay/Straight Alliance in my high school. Andy is the guy who took the Gay/Straight Alliance over from me, and he turned me on to Patti Smith, Sonic Youth, and Huggy Bear the summer before I moved away from all those kids (and he also was totally patient when I figured out that I only wanted to play bass in his band because of my girl bassist idols, not any real talent). The dude at the Minuteman copy shop in my home town, he could have been a feminist: that he didn’t refuse outright to photocopy my zine when it had stories about sex in it written by me, a fifteen year old, was pretty, if not accidentally, political. It’s also no accident that the feminist men in my life are really immersed in other stuff besides “the men’s movement” — if that’s of interest to them at all, which I don’t think it is. They make music and media with women without lording their expertise. They go to rallies with women and make connections between what goes on out there and in our own bedrooms without wanting a big gold star for it. They are sexy. Sometimes, they’re queer, they’ve been around, they’ve been the one to take the 3am phone call coming home from the party gone wrong or the tears after sex when something really old and really painful came back, and they don’t expect approval for that giving or loving. The good ones, anyway. The ones I still add back on Facebook even if we haven’t seen each other in a decade and would gladly curl up with and run around with after diving through those dark nights and hard conversations.
So. The other night. I turned out for a panel of feminist men, organized by Paradigm Shift NYC, “New York City’s feminist community.” I knew what I was getting into. One of the panelists, Bob Brannon, is the co-founder of the National Organization for Men Against Sexism, is the leader of their Task Group on Pornography and Prostitution. He’s also the co-chair of the National Organization for Women (New York state chapter) Task Force on Trafficking, Pornography and Prostitution. People who combine advocacy around porn, prostitution, and trafficking tend not to ally themselves with people who advocate for sex workers’ rights. This is a huge mess for sex workers and for feminists right now, as recently as this summer’s fight in Rhode Island over re-criminalizing indoor prostitution, where people calling themselves feminists in a fight against violence against women (they usually leave out the men and transgender folks in the sex industry) are saying some pretty ruthlessly stupid stuff, and just flat out lying, about sex workers actual lives. My life. My life was the one I put on the table, and didn’t really want to.
To say I have a complicated relationship to the sex industry is really just to sum up my professional life. (That, and a lack of health insurance.) Thanks to the insufficient privacy of San Francisco blog & activist life, it was rare that I met anyone socially or politically who didn’t know that I’ve done sex work. Now that I’ve settled in New York, I’ve forgotten what it is to come out. So when I prepared my question for Brannon, after he’d taken his fifteen minutes to talk about what an amazing victory for feminists that intensified anti-trafficking laws are, laws that hand even more power and control over to the police when it comes to ensuring the safety and rights of people who sell sex — which the police don’t historically and actually do such a great job at — I was not going to couch my question in terms of my sex work experience. It’s just not relevant. It was also likely to frame me up in a convenient box in which he could dismiss me. I mean, these so-called “anti-trafficking” people actually believe there is a well-funded pro-sex work political lobby, backed by the industry (as if the big players in the sex business, the strip club owners and porn production companies, could get that big a PR act together), that any sex worker who speaks back to them is a part of.
And the truth is, for at least the last two years, I’ve spent more time reporting on the sex industry than being part of it. My life has shifted to a different disreputable course.
Whatever happened when I asked Brannon my question, I knew I didn’t want to have the first question. But the Q&A got off to a jolt when a lawyer who defends sex workers — and that was his term, sex workers — asked Brannon about the implications of the trafficking law for his law practice. Was it true that sex workers who were arrested could be treated as victims, rather than criminals, by claiming they had been forced into sex work? What possibilities for a new sort of defense did this leave open? (And in fact, a law passed in New York in June does allow victims of human trafficking to have any prostitution convictions removed from their records.)
Brannon dodged the questions almost entirely, saying he’d be glad to discuss it later, that this wasn’t really his area of concern, and that also, he wanted to “draw [the lawyer's] attention” to his “language.” Brannon continued, taking up more airspace with this semantic argument than he did with the question at hand, that “some people” are trying to use the terminology “sex work” but that he and his movement believed this was incorrect and obscured the “real issues.” When the lawyer asked what the preferred nomenclature was, Brannon replied that the proper term should be “women who have been used in prostitution.”
This is where I was so glad I was sitting next to Audacia Ray, longtime activist friend and blogger-in-arms, former sex worker, and all around rock who could see the “oh no HE DIDN’T” on my face and echo it back without even moving a muscle.
I raised my hand to make sure I had the next spot, and I changed my question.
And I got it.
I stole a play from the book of the Latin American sex worker activists, who open every critical statement with a bit of gratitude before launching into their take. (And this mostly works, even for long meetings, conducted with simultaneous English/Spanish translation, in headsets. It was like the sex worker UN up in there some days at the AIDS Conference in Mexico City last summer. It was fantastic.) I said to Brannon that I was sure I was the beneficiary of some of his good work, the year I joined a community advocacy program against violence against women in college, we just integrated men into the group. That it was so valuable to work together with men. But that I had real concerns for how his group addresses trafficking without including the people most impacted by their advocacy around trafficking: people in the sex industry. Had they spoken to people who had been raped and assaulted by the police when they were arrested for prostitution? Because to hear him just speak, I didn’t feel that he had. And to hear him just speak, it made asking this question of him that much more challenging, as I, a sex worker, actually did prefer to be called a sex worker, and that for anyone else in the room curious about how to refer to someone who sells sex, they should defer to what people call themselves and want to be called by others. Did they understand (I continued, I mean, I really continued and graciously, no one cut me off) that relying on police to arrest people who sell sex was therefore problematic, and that the raids and “rescue” missions themselves are traumatic and re-victimizing? What was his group doing to ensure that sex workers had access to housing, health care, and education? Rather than focus on what they believed was the inherent abuse in selling sex, how were they working to end the rape and abuse of sex workers at the hands of the people that his group believe can “protect” them — the police? Had they listened to sex workers at all?
Brannon again claimed that this wasn’t really his issue, or his concern, and that though his people had worked with people who had left the sex industry and were trying to “make a fresh start” (or some similar metaphor, which I forget, at this point, not having had a notebook out to record anything so much as I was just trying to hold my ground and his eyes) but that he “didn’t believe that sex workers [were] the experts” on these issues or deserved a place at the policy table.
So here we are again. None of this is surprising. I have friends in the community of sex worker advocates who do this all the time: try to get on some common ground with the “anti-trafficking” people in the feminist movement, go to their events, ask questions. It may seem like sanctimonious barnstorming, to show up where they show up, but some of these “anti-trafficking” activists are not people who respond to kind emails or invitations to debate or discuss. They use scare tactics and smear campaigns, and frankly, I don’t feel all that safe in one-on-one discussions with them. I preferred the open forum of this panel as a way to ask for some accountability, and I knew full well I probably wouldn’t get a response that even shimmied near anything resembling ethical consideration.
So how does one even respond to someone that a feminist organization has pitched up on a pedestal for a moment as “the good guy” telling you, for your own good, that you have been used and to just be quiet and let him get back to work?
It certainly would be sanctimonious of me to imply, oh god well what sort of man does that sound like!, because for me the answer is, countless crap bosses I had as a teenager, and a handful of jurassic-era teachers, and my still-living-at-home fifty-something uncle and my own abusive, rapist father.
But you know. Having men tell me how powerless I am is why I turned to a life of contracting with them the specific terms under which I could give them attention, and also under which I would ask them to treat me.
Even after that lovely assessment of my and hundreds of thousands of other women’s morals and political abilities, I did stay to the end. I made an effort to “network” — which meant taking questions from the men who now, after my speaking up, considered me the safe person to talk about sex with in the room. I thanked Dacia and Nancy Schwartzman (who I’ve been working with on a sex-positive advocacy campaign for her film, The Line), who gave me a sincere shout-out to the panel as someone who was her ally in anti-violence work, thank you very much, no matter how “used” one of them just told everyone I was. I imagined how I might write this up and knew that I’d have to, after having told Twitter about the night up to that point.
So here’s the pull-quote:
If men like Brannon want to do right by women, if they want what they tell women they want, they need to do what men are socialized (sorry, guys!) to be really lousy at: ask before doing something that takes such control of our bodies and our lives, ask and listen and not in some awful “active listening” way that really just reminds us of yet another guy wanting to get down our pants, ask and listen and don’t you dare tell another woman she has nothing worth listening to because she has been “used” by the system or by men or whoever, when what you really mean is, “let me use you for myself, for my own career and my own political ends.” How wonderful, a voiceless mass of women to invoke as your beneficiaries. How awful, when any of us do show up.
Bravo, Melissa. This world needs more brave women like you (as well as a greater capacity to listen to brave women like you).
A whole bowl of awesomeness, Melissa. This is really great.
And I’m sorry that “feminist” was such a dick.
Thanks, Melissa. This is really great. I appreciate your honest and thoughtful perspective.
That *any* supposedly “progressive” person thinks that “the policeman is your friend” speaks to an astonishing amount of blind privilege they’re still carrying around. White man much? And apparently he’s just into feminism to patronize a new group of women. Sheesh. Props to you for showing the patience I’d lack. Keep fighting the good fight!
WORD, Melissa. Goddess damn FREAKIN’ WORD.
The reason I became a supporter of “sex positive feminism” as a Leftist Black man (and yeah, I know, “sex positive” is kinda problematic to some, but it’s the best way I know for now to define my position on the nexus of free sexual expression, sexuality, and women’s equality), is exactly due to the inanity of “progressives” like that idiot who thinks that just because he mouths the word “feminist” he is authorized to lecture women on how they should behave and what they should think. How interesting that he claims himself to be a follower of “radical feminism” and a supporter of women’s autonomy…yet he won’t even listen to the experiences and beliefs of women even when they tell him TO HIS FREAKIN’ FACE what they want.
The really sad thing is that certain “feminists” who would otherwise prat on about the evil of men actually give him praise for this nonsense…and grant him more political power to undermine real women.
“Progressive”?? I don’t think so.
Brava, Melissa, for saying what needed to be said.
Anthony
Excellent piece. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, as a man who sometimes has the audacity to call himself a feminist, for speaking.
I also hope, though this guy came off as a prick in your essay, that some women will have the courage to continue speaking with groups like this who I believe really do have substantive points and ideas. There really is such a thing as human trafficking. It is appallingly common, and it needs to be addressed.
You’re right that it needs to start with listening. And maybe stay with listening for a long time. But that is easier said than done. How does one advocate for the invisible groups in our society without co-opting and patronizing those groups, but also without any clear easy way to hear their concerns, or even better – encourage them into leadership?
Thank you Melissa.
Hey, thank you everyone for the good comments.
Direct to Aric: I’m not sure, from Bob Brannon’s comments, if “substantive points” were introduced at the panel, or in their literature, or in the research they use when lobbying to intensify police power to intervene in cases of human trafficking. To be clear, I am not contesting that human trafficking is real. But I do not believe that further empowering law enforcement is a solution. This is a labor issue more than a criminal justice issue. Introducing law enforcement, especially federal agencies like ICE and the DEA, is a dangerous move when essentially what we are talking about when we are looking at trafficking is a) already criminal (rape, violence) and b) part of an informal economy susceptible to corruption, like bribery and extortion — including sex traded to the cops in exchange for “protection.”
This is well-documented to rights’ groups who do have a positive working relationship to people who sell sex, both under fair working conditions and under coercive and abusive conditions. One valuable resource — which I linked to in the body of my post — is the research conducted by the Sex Workers’ Project, a program within New York City’s Urban Justice Center. This a program that does an outstanding job of listening, listening grounded in valuing the contributions of people who sell and trade sex as essential to advancing social justice, and listening that turns to action in the form of court support and policy advocacy on behalf of people who do not have the capacity day-to-day to take out from the business of survival.
On my own semantic note, I don’t put a lot of stock in terms like “invisible” or “voiceless” to describe people. Sex workers are only absent and silent in our conversations about selling sex to the extent that sex workers’ contributions are not considered important. There are many projects worldwide that support grassroots leadership from people who sell and trade sex, many of which you can find through the Network of Sex Work Projects.
If you want personal stories from sex workers impacted by trafficking, the videos collected at Sex Workers Present are an excellent place to start, especially “Caught Between the Tiger and the Crocodile,” made by sex workers in Cambodia.
This is why I doubt that men can, really, be feminists. They are not women, cannot and should not speak for us, and DEFINITELY have no place building careers off “saving” us. They can certainly be allies (though this man is not, given the true colors that emerged), but how can they be feminists when they don’t even understand us–or care to?
Melissa,
Thanks for responding. I am in total agreement about the dubiousness of police involvement or any kind of “enforcement” on issues like this – with the possible exception of enforcement on the client side. I am in full support of arresting men who go abroad to avail themselves of sex workers who are often underage slaves.
Double thanks for pointing out ways I can listen. You’re right of course that being “invisible” is mostly a function of society not paying attention.
I was once told that men can have a place in the feminist movement – doing the photocopying and fetching coffee. A joke, obviously, but one with a legitimate point. I am continually reminded just how poor a job I’m doing of shutting up and listening. As “Used My Ass!” has said I cannot and should not speak for, well, anyone but myself. Even so I muddle along hoping to be corrected when necessary, but also actively trying to help my sons and my friends be better human beings. Sometimes that involves attempting to impart my best understanding of the experience of women and strangers. The act of imagining another person’s experience is crucial to the development of empathy. How else are we supposed to get better at this?
Thank you so much for this. When I sought assistance for domestic violence, my caseworker or whatever her title was, actively didn’t like my rejection of the dominant narrative. I was supposed to be a victim, and act like one, not demand better services and break the fourth wall by having agency and making nuanced choices and wanting to understand the role of culture and wondering where the perpetrator services were, because there were none in NYC if you were not involved with the legal system. Victim, dammit, victim!!
Uh-oh, looks like someone is very, very deluded.
Darling, having gone to a higschool that had “a paste-up riot grrrl inflected underground newspaper” and where a friend “from Gay/Straight Alliance turned [you] on to Patti Smith, Sonic Youth, and Huggy Bear” doesn’t establish your “cred.”
Far, far from it!
Rather it shows that you come from a background of some privilege and great whiteness, utterly unlike that of the vast majority of “sex workers”, in America and throughout the world. You’d be hardpressed to come up with anything that demonstrates less “cred” actually.
The post further demonstrates that while you really, really enjoy talking about yourself, the process doesn’t seem to have given you much insight into yourself. Or the world. Or how things work.
On the plus, side you are one fucking funny princess and all around droning narcissist.
Please keep the laughs and horrifically misguided self-promotion coming.
Paola –
You’re correct, I did enjoy popular music as a teenager. I still do to this day. This must explain why I am such a terrible activist.
I admit this blog entry isn’t the best way to get to know the whole of my work as a human rights activist, but I’m not sure how I can begin to address your comment. You came here with a load of assumptions about my experience and privilege and didn’t unload any information about your own.
Starting with questions would get you some answers, maybe?
It appears Paola is accusing you of hailing from Canada. It’s a serious charge.
I think you experienced something that all members of ‘fringe’ phenomenon do when outsiders are seemingly authorized to deliver the macro view, they do so vociferously and with the sanctimonious airs of Woodrow Wilson and his little brown brothers the world ’round.
or am I wrong?
I facebooked this link in all its glory.
I’m afraid men like that are part of what gives feminists a bad name, and why i no longer self identify as one, a movement that used to be about equal rights for women has become about PC sanctimony, and replacing patriarchy with matriarchy. If one tries to be a reasonable excuse for a human being, true feminist principles come naturally, and i don’t expect to be congratulated for it.
I stumbled upon your article while sex-negativity within the fat acceptance movement. I do not know why Google sent me here. But anyway… Your prose is entertaining and kudos to you for speaking truth to sex-negative, civil liberty negative PC power. But, I really, really wonder how relevant Brannon’s sex is to your critique. You could have documented his scary sex-negative ideology without bringing focusing on how his behavior fits with stereotypical male behavior. Your narrative seems to posit his MAB-ness (Male At Birth*) as the cause of his behavior. Taking a snarky swipe at a MAB feminist plays well to the peanut galleries and generates the necessary comments of “Yeah! fucking male assholes! Who do they think they are?”, but it really fucks things up for a MAB Genderqueer like me, for politically aware Transwomen and for man-identified progressives.
Brannon would have been just as sanctimonious and annoying if she had been anti-porn FAB RadFem. If overcompensation is at play than we can also look at why MAB Feminists feel the need to overcompensate.
Your Truly,
Jasper Gregory
*MAB = Male At Birth. I use it or MAAB not for PC reasons, but because it seems to be acceptable to both Trans Activists and their RadFem opponents
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