Workers’ Rights & Evangelism

Portland hosts an extension of the Las Vegas Cupcake Girls, and The Oregonian published an article this past week on their outreach and service efforts. In response, a dancer from the area created a petition online to show the Cupcake Girls that they don’t speak for Portland sex workers. Sign it, if you are so inclined. I did.

A woman at my meeting for the sex worker outreach coalition this past week made an excellent point: if they want to offer services, great. That’s awesome, and I’m sure they’re helping someone. But if you and your organization cannot take a stand supporting the rights of the people you purport to be serving, than you are not helping the movement.

The organization seems to take a stance similar to “hate the sin, love the sinner,” simply by not supporting workers’ rights. And that’s troubling. The organization’s funding is from evangelical, anti-trafficking organizations that don’t recognize that many workers have chosen their work and find it empowering and don’t need spiritual guidance or help leaving the industry.

This article was published in the Willamette Week in response to the article in the Oregonian, and I think it is an articulate response.

And, unrelated to the Cupcake Girls and local worker response, this article written by a john is very interesting. I am more for decriminalization than legalization, but it’s a great piece nonetheless.

Thank you Maya

I love this Maya Angelou poem. I especially love the line about diamonds, as it reminds me of my bedazzled g-string I wear at the club. And, I deeply love the strength, resilience, and power she describes. May we all rise despite adversity, showing ourselves and others what true strength looks like.

Still I Rise

Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

 

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

 

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

 

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

 

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

 

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

 

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

 

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

 

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.