"In a world that is awash in grisly tales of the sex trade and impossibly bad information about sex work and the people that do it, sometimes I’m afraid that our humor might be perceived as callous. Sometimes I think that perhaps we needed to button up and put on our serious faces to be participants in this discourse. That maybe we’d be taken more seriously if we acted more seriously. But then I realize that this is precisely the kind of capitulation that antis would love to see, because it would rob our discourse of the texture it is given by our laughter, our triumphs, and our sorrows. It would reduce us to what they are: a series of talking points with an agenda rather than a movement of diverse human experiences.
And the thing about having a movement rather than an agenda, is that it is going to move and be moved. It will not have as firm a foundation as an agenda will nor will it be as easy to build a consensus around. But its value will not be in its funding capabilities but its human dimensions, the ability to laugh over deeply disheartening experiences and to make fun of something because that is often the only power we possess in the situation. Sex work activism doesn’t need to look like a list of talking points. It can instead look like a series of simultaneously ridiculous and heartbreaking vignettes, the humor of them demonstrating their heart and the vulnerability of them demonstrating their strength."
— Lane Champagne in “The Role of Humor In Sex Worker Activism: Should We Always Be So Goddamn Hilarious?” at Tits and Sass today
I need to actually write some Tits and Sass posts instead of just editing other people’s work, and then from there I need to start pitching pieces elsewhere. Need to do some reading I can write about, so I’m not just performing survival calculations in my head all the time—what a wretched waste of brain space.
August blues, mama told me not to come, etc
Will write my replies to the regulars round table tomorrow morning—that at least will utilize my current heavy misandrist client angst in favor of exercising that writing muscle.
OK, and I feel actively disgusted by Just Kids at this point, the bevy of references and anecdotes that add up to this inherent, very specific sort of bohemian hollowness. Also, I feel like at one point I would’ve been lapping it up.
Watched the first two episodes of Copper and, well, at least it has recurring sex worker characters? Even an underage worker whose character and motivations are painted in a bit more nuanced way than just “spoiled innocent.” But for now most of them just seem to get subsumed by being the heroes’ girlfriends, so we’ll see.
But hey, at least I got an opportunity to be happy I learned what “the panel game” was from reading I’ve Got To Make My Livin’: Black Women’s Sex Work In Turn of the Century Chicago by Cynthia M Blair.