Why can't you just be a MOTHER??

I am about to do something I never in a million years thought I would ever do. Ever. I am about to stick up for Kim Kardashian. I know right. What the fuck?

I will admit it was only about a year or so ago that I found out exactly what a Kardashian was. Seriously. I thought it was a clothing line or a dog breed or something to do with Paris Hilton when I first heard the name. I don't follow celebrity news, I don't read or buy trashy magazines, and I have no interest in watching Entertainment Tonight or any of those things. So yeah. I didn't know who she was or why she was famous or even THAT she was famous. But I digress.
The second thing I am about to do that I never thought I would is to use a Kardashian in the same breath as feminism. I know. Strap yourself in... This IS going somewhere I promise.

I have (apparently) odd views of feminism. You see, I think of feminism as a thing where women can choose to be and do anything they put their minds to. Whether they decide to be a sex worker or a brain surgeon, if they have made the choice to be who they want to be, good on them. Power to you! Yeah sisterhood! I put “apparently” in brackets because I couldn't tell you the number of times I have been told that I am not a feminist because of the work I do, or I am just some silly little brainwashed thing who has been tricked into thinking I'm making my own mind up but really I am just a product of false consciousness and must be saved. Yawn. Yeah, whatever.

So, back to Kim Kardashian. She recently published a photograph of herself online. It's a pic of her in a pretty small leotard, posing butt-popped in the mirror. It's an okay picture. She has a fantastic booty. And, considering Kim Kardashian is famous for being famous and her butt is one of her most famous assets, I say whatever. Enjoy. Wish I had a butt like that.

Enter moral crusader and saver of women and identifier of all things feminist and otherwise, Mia Freedman.

Sitting up on her morally perfect high horse she writes of this picture “Are you a Mother or a Porn Star?” and then goes on to not only shame and ridicule the photograph but deem her some sort of bad mother because, god forbid, she has a body she is proud of and wants to show it off.

Well here is a big hearty fuck you, Mia. Who died and pronounced you god of motherhood and what mothers should do?

I bet you a hundred bucks if it was a picture of a woman posing post baby showing stretch marks or wobbly bits, Mia would declare it “brave” and “beautiful”. If it was a woman of plus size wearing a bikini and posing sexily Mia would post a blog on how wonderful it is that women are loving their bodies... But for some reason this offends her. She talks of the “whip lash” she got from looking at the booty pic and then a pic of Kim's new baby basically saying that, to her, a woman must be one thing once she has a child: A mother. A demure and pure and non sexual thing without any thoughts or ideas of personality beyond that of motherhood.

She goes on to deem the photograph “desperate and sad” because, you know, someone who is famous for having a body like that and showing that they still have a body like that after having a baby is somehow going against what we all know the Kardashians to stand for? Um... No.

You know what IS desperate and sad? The fact that Mia Freedman makes a hell of a lot of money shaming and judging other women for being whatever they choose, under the guise of some kind of concern for the children (won't somebody think of the children!!!!) and saying nothing of any real value or importance other than “look how morally upstanding I am and how shameful and wrong other people are who do things I deem shameful and wrong”.

The thing is, some mothers ARE porn stars. Some mothers are truck drivers. Some mothers stay at home and do the housework. There is nothing in the world wrong with a mother doing things other than being a mother. I know, from my own personal experience, if I was ONLY a mother I would go fucking crazy.

The biggest kick in the face really is the fact that unfortunately some mothers are not very good. Some mothers drink the grocery money and leave their children in dirty nappies and squalid conditions. Some mothers ship their kids off to everyone they can so they can have a social life and do not love or care for them the way they should. Some mothers abuse their children physically and sexually. This is where this outrage should be placed. Not on a picture of a woman (who happens to also be a mother) showing her butt off in a leotard.

I find the whole thing utterly repulsive. How dare you declare, in your oh-so-distateful way, that mothers cannot be sexy or proud of their sexuality. How dare you slut-shame. And, more importantly, how dare you make me get so pissed off I end up writing a blog in defence of a Kardashian! How very dare you!

(Because I have no intention of giving her any more traffic I have not posted a link to the offending blog here. If you want to see it, Google is your friend... But I won't lead you there.)

Sorry, dear, you're not qualified!

Okay, so I have kind of misquoted there, but only by a word or two and for those hard-core Monty Python fans out there, I know you’ll know what I mean…

               

A mate of mine called me up not too long ago. He has been a colleague for many years, was even my boss for a few of them and, over the course of our working relationship, we have become friends. He has helped me out of a jam or two before and I him and we have formed a bond.

                But enough about that, this isn’t what this is about, it is about the phone call. He called me up and said, “Hey mate, I need some help. You’re a really good writer and I think you’re pretty funny too ( he went on and on with the compliments, but I don’t wanna bore you), and a friend and I have started up a website all about comedy, specifically Australian comedy, and we would love you to be a part of it. You have the skills as a writer, the contacts in the entertainment world and, well you’re just awesome (no, really, he said this heaps! *disclaimer, he probably didn’t say it as much as I like to remember).”

                Well needless to say I was flattered. Not only do I respect his opinion, I really love comedy. Like really. Some of my earliest memories are of watching old Billy Connelly videos with my dad, and my sisters and I screeching with laughter at the Goodies and Monty Python and all the best comedy from the 70s. When we got a little bit older my sister’s and I would re-enact scenes from the Old D-Generation show. We would quote the lines over and over.

 It wasn’t just comedy though. It was all performing. I loved theatre and musicals and live shows. Those people who know me well know I studied acting and writing for many years while I was a teenager and early adult. I did speech and drama and elocution, I performed improvisation and spoken word in Eisteddfods, I acted in plays (one of which was chosen to play in an international festival when I was only 16), I wrote plays (one of which ended up winning a prize in the Australian National Scriptwriting Competition in the early 90s) I told jokes, I did strange street theatre that nobody understood. It was my life.
                Those people who know me very, very well know why I quit. That’s another story for another time. It was one of the hardest things I have ever walked away from. But I did.

Over the years I put that loss of being on stage away and my passion for performing and entertaining was redirected into my other favourite thing, sex. Not only within the realms of escorting and sex work, where I would be able to don any mask to fit the personality of a client and get to show off my talents and personality and magnificent oral skills (oh as if you weren’t expecting a pun or too along the way), but also into public speaking and presenting too. I partook in panel discussions on writing porn and erotica; I co-hosted radio spots and, with a good friend, presented skill share workshops for women on sex and sexuality. (I am using past tense but all these things are still very much part of the work I do). In short, I was putting myself out there as much as possible but, instead of doing it under the guise of a character, I was doing it all as me.

So, back to the phone call. Of course I said yes. Not only was it awesome and flattering and exciting to be asked, it meant I would get to see some fantastic shows, hone my writing skills even more and build up more of my public profile because, let’s face it, when you’re a freelance writer without an agent, no one else is going to do it for you.

I have quite a few mates who are comedians. Some I know very well and would call them good friends, others more acquaintances who I have a drink with every so often and others are just people I know from around the traps of being a writer, enjoying live shows and/or they are a friend of a friend and I saw them once at a party.

I told a couple of them I had been given this gig and they were all excited for me. As well as eager to plug their next show and promise to buy me lots of beer if I gave them a good write up which I, of course, refused (Hey, you may be able to buy my sex… But my laughter is another matter). I was pumped. I was excited. I was ready to laugh… And then something happened.

I have a few idols. People I look up to and admire for one reason or another. I am very lucky to have met a few of them and even luckier to have met some who have since become friends of mine. One such Idol who I have met, although would not class as a friend, is a pretty famous Aussie comedian. Someone I grew up watching and enjoying. Someone whose lines I spent hours quoting with friends. Someone who had a permanent poster-spot on my bedroom wall. Someone who, when they started following me on Twitter and who I eventually met briefly one day, made me jump up and down in my chair and go “Squeeeeee” for a while. Someone who, with a few casual words thrown in my direction had me questioning everything about myself, my intentions, my skills and my talents.  Someone who almost made me give up.
Yay idol, right.

It all started with a ticket mix up at the Melbourne International Comedy festival. I went to get tickets for a show I was reviewing and the girl at the desk told me she was really sorry, but for some reason they hadn’t sent me an email about another show I’d been hoping to review and I had missed out on the tickets to it because it had already started an hour earlier. She was really apologetic but I understand that shit happens and it wasn’t anyone’s fault really. But the most disappointing aspect of it was it was the show of the above mentioned idol. Someone who I had wanted to see live since forever.

So I sent him a tweet. Basically I said something like “Hey, am reviewing shows for MICF and just found out that, cos of a mix up, I missed out on your show. Bummer!”

His reply was quick, simple and short. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a comedy specialist.”

Well, I’m not. That bit is true, but at first I didn’t think much of it and sent him a reply back saying something along the lines of sex and laughter being intertwined and hey, people are always telling me I’m funny… And not just funny looking…

He came back at me with a quote. A quote from Roosevelt about how critics are scum and whose only purpose is to point out faults and judge while someone else lays their heart and soul on the line. (I’m paraphrasing… Here’s the actual quote http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/7-it-is-not-the-critic-who-counts-not-the-man )And basically went on to tell me that I had no place to be judging others, that I come from a place of no experience and total risk and that, regardless of my years of experience presenting and writing and putting myself out there for everyone to judge and criticise (seriously, until you have come out openly and positively as a sex worker, you have NO idea what being judged by complete strangers is like) I had no place to do what I was doing because comedy is a craft unlike any other ever and should be above scrutiny and basically fuck you, Eva, you’re a fraud.

This got to me. This got into my head and into my confidence and started eating away. “Yeah, Eva,” I thought to myself. “Here’s someone who knows his shit, man. Here’s someone whose advice you take seriously. Here’s someone who thinks you’re a big fat phony. What the hell are you doing? Why did you even think you could do this? You’re not even funny. People probably laugh AT you rather than WITH you. Stop what you’re doing right now. Get your hand off it. Go back to fucking. You suck…”

It was horrible. I rarely suffer from self-doubt and it’s even rarer I let what other people think of me get inside my head, but this was different. This would be a bit like the porn star Belladonna (who is another of my idols and one I have had the amazing luck to have interviewed over the phone) telling me to close my legs and stop having sex because, quite frankly, I was shit at it.
It was a blow to my everything...  I really was ready to give up. I spoke to the guys at the website and told them my concerns and they told me not to worry about it. That they wouldn’t have offered me the part if they didn’t think I could do it, but still I worried.

And then the emails and messages came. Now I have mentioned earlier that I have quite a few friends who are in the comedy biz. At the time I didn’t know who or how many people had seen this exchange (Yes, it had all been done rather embarrassingly publicly on Twitter, I have since removed them from my timeline) but apparently word had got out among a few of them and they had felt compelled enough by it to contact me.

Every single one of them said pretty much the same thing. “Don’t listen to it, Eva. You’re really good at what you do. You write well. You ARE funny, and you have every right to be doing what you are doing, oh, and will you come and review my show I’ll buy you beer!”

They made me feel better. They really did. But it wasn’t until I had some of my first reviews posted on the website that I really started to believe it.  People were sharing them over the place, the comedians I was writing about enjoyed and reposted them and the public took my advice and saw the shows I’d written about and then thanked me for directing them to good stuff.

I have had a few weeks to reflect on all of this and get my head around it. Out of all the comedians I know and have since met in this amazing Melbourne festival, the only negative reaction I have had was from one person. One. No-one else. And that, to me, says more about them than it does me or my skills. I always try to look at things in a glass-half-full way, and this is no exception. It just took a little longer.

                A couple of things I will add, in response to the “coming from a place of no experience” comments and the “you’re not a comedy specialist” digs, are that yes. He is right. When it comes to writing comedy reviews I haven’t got much experience. But, like all people, in all things that they do, they have to start somewhere and, luckily for me, I have got quite a bit of writing and reviewing experience under my belt, albeit in another genre.

Also I AM funny. I write damn good stories and have a way of expressing myself on paper and in person that is amusing and sometimes even laugh-out-loud funny. Okay, I may not have the experience of putting myself out there like a comedian trying to make people laugh, but if you think I haven’t stood up in front of a mass of people and bared my raw soul for all to see (and judge and scrutinise and whisper harshly about) then you’re sorely mistaken. I have stood in front of crowds and read out my own erotic writing and experiences including a blow by blow (pardon the pun) description of fellatio and cunnilingus and once I even re-wrote a scene in 50 Shades Of Grey to involve a gay kiss between two rather prominent and uber-hetero male radio presenters that was then read out on a national prime time show.

As for having no credibility to be judging others I will say this. I have never, nor will I ever judge anyone who has put themselves out there in a position of vulnerability. I just won’t. It is soul damaging and mean and not who I am in the slightest. I think the terms “critic” and “review” sit uncomfortably in a lot of people’s head because (and this happens) it means people can put you down, tell you where you went wrong, and judge (like Roosevelt says) from the relative safety of the critics chair. I don’t and will never “review” like that.

If you have a read of the ones I have done for the festival (blatant self- promotion here’s a link to ALL my reviews http://whatsoncomedy.com/author/evas/ ) you will see not a single judgement of harshness. What you see is a description. An observation of what I saw and what the basic premise for the show was. My experience and past as a sex worker is perfect for this. Let me explain how.

One of the most common questions I get from people about sex work is “But what if they’re old and fat and ugly?? How do you possibly enjoy it then?”
The answer is simple (well simple for me, I understand not everyone is like this) Everyone, absolutely everyone has something redeeming and endearing about them. Everyone. And, as a good sex worker, it is my job to find it and I have to say, in all the years and all the men and all the sex, I’ve come across maybe three people I couldn’t find something nice about.

I look at these comedy gigs the same way. Even if the show is the equivalent of a fat sweaty old man there will be something I can write positively about it. (Hell I probably could have written Tracy Morgan a good review) Even if I don’t “get it” or find it funny I can do that. Why? Because humour is subjective. The audience watching is reacting, laughing, clapping, joining in… Who am I to say it’s shit just because I don’t find it funny. It’s not about me.

And that’s the thing really, isn’t it. It’s not about me. Nor is it about letting other people’s judgement and ideas of you stop you from being who you are and doing what you love. It’s just about living.

So love what you do and do what you love and life will always come up smelling peachy. Or at least, a super cute comedian you have a bit of a crush on will hug you close and tell you you’re pretty damn special.

(I would just like to add that as much as this person hates critics and thinks the art of reviewing is one left to dogs and their fleas... He has NO problem retweeting, reposting and linking to any and every review and commentary on his latest offerings... But hey, don't take it personally, Eva... It's really not about you... Honest... )

Norma-Lising Bigotry

You know those times when someone goes spouting off on a subject they know very little about and, as someone who DOES know a bit about it, you start to get cross that they're misusing information, twisting facts and not really giving out proper, correct information?

Yeah, I hate that too.

Then, imagine that person getting paid to spout these views to a mass of people who really don't know the truth from the lies and so take this person's drivel as truth because, well, they've been PAID to say it in a national newspaper so it MUST be true?

Yeah.

Yeah I really hate that too.

Dr Caroline Norma (a lecturer on Social Sciences at RMIT) has done just this with her poorly researched Op Ed piece in the Age on June 19 2012.

Dr Norma's Piece

Her condescending tone and disgust for the profession is apparent within her first sentence with the obvious use of quotation marks wrapped around the term Sex Worker. Like it's not really a real word. Just one the workers have made up for themselves to feel some semblance of self respect...

She then continues on with her "better than you" type of attitude throwing out "facts" about an industry she has no idea about, as if she were feeding breadcrumbs to pigeons...

Oh wait. She is. Little breadcrumbs of misinformation and bigotry to a bunch of people who really have no idea about the truth.

On the day she wrote her awful piece many sex workers both past and present, both male and female, stood up and said "Hang on,. This isn't right! Can we talk to you about this. Can we offer some real facts, real information, real firsthand actual knowledge..."

And Caroline went silent.

She was appealead to over twitter, over Facebook, over blogs. She was contacted via phone, via email, via calls to her place of work.

Nothing.

For example, Holly (@HollyInAlbury on Twitter) a sex worker from regional Victoria appealled to Caroline in her blog to leave the speaking about sex work to the people who know about sex work. I mean, we wouldn't let a plumber talk to us about heart surgery would we?

You Can Read Holly's Piece Here

Male sex worker, and well-known sex worker rights activist Christian Vega (@ChristianBVega on Twitter) appealed to her on social media and his blog, putting forward a notion that many people don't actually think about (Dr Norma being one of them) that sex workers are not ALL female and that generalisations are harmful and damaging and that stigmas and stereotypes are wrong and can really hurt the movement for acceptance and better laws and regulations.

Christian's Piece is here

Newcastle-based escort Luscious Lani (@LusciousLani on Twitter) has tried to not only talk to her over Twitter, email and phone, she has also extended an invitation to Dr Norma to come to her home. Visit a real sex worker. Talk to her and others about her piece and the ramifications it has to our industry, our jobs and, to be blatantly honest, our emotions (being told you're a down-trodded exploited woman can be quite confronting when you know you're not).

You can read Lani's invitation Here

Has Caroline RSVPd to this invitation?

No.

Has she acknowledged this outcry from Australian sex workers?

No

I too would like to offer myself to Carloine Norma as someone within the industry who spends a great deal of time talking to and talking about sex work and sex workers and who is quite happy and willing to explain some things to her that seem to need explaining.

Like her lack of understanding on the things that most of us Aussie sex workers do NOT have to deal with...Like pimps. Like exploitation. Like drugs. Like sexual abuse. Like danger. Like rape. Like every other bad thing she put through in her piece without acrtually speaking to a single person involved in the Australian Sex industry.

Has she seen that a hell of a lot of us are university graduates and can hold an intelligent conversation?

Does she realise many of us are in relationships and have children and families and great ones at that?

Does she realise that very few of us are drug addicts and do this as a last resort attempt at earning money?

Well, if she doesn't, she will soon because there are a lot of us and we are not happy. All you have to do is search Caroline Norma on Twitter and you will see the army of sex workers, clients and their supporters who have stood up to say "We will not allow your bigoted narrow-mindedness stop us. We will fight for what we believe in and we will prove you wrong."

If you'd like to join the fight for the rights of sex workers not to be exploited and misrepresented in the media by people who claim to be intelligent beings, please head over to Lani's Website (Yep click it it's a link) and look to the left at the "rants and ramblings" tab and add your voice along with many other sex worker supporters, whether they work in the industry, use the services, or just support us as workers in general...

Happy Hooking! - DB!

Why Jackie O is Worse than Vile Kyle

A lot has been written about Vile Kyle and his revolting attitude to women, but from what I've found (and believe me, I've looked) not much has been said on this topic about the other person who sits behind that microphone, Jackie O. So I'm going to do that right here and now.

Over the course of the last few months I have found Jackie O to be even more disgusting than Kyle. Yes, you read that right. I really do.
Why, you ask?

Because at least Kyle is consistent in his mysoginy and rudeness. At least he is open and upfront in his vitriol. As disgusting, rude and cruel as I think he is, there's no surprises when he says what he says, just surprise he's still given the air-time in which to say it. But Jackie O is, in my opinion, even worse than that. Kyle is a bully, sure, but she is something worse than that. She is the silent and dangerous companion to all bullies. Jackie O is an enabler.

Think of the school playground where a bully is picking on a kid. Now think of the Crabbe and Goyle type people that stand around sniggering and egging them on. That's how and why the bully is effective at intimidation and how they get away with it.

If those people were to stand up and say, "No, this is wrong." the bully would have no-one to "perform" to. No-one to "impress". And we all need to remember that bullying is NOT impressive. It is cowardly and cruel and thrives on complacency and ignorance.

And here we come to Jackie O.
When Kyle went on his "fat slag" rant she just sat there. She "tut tutted" and then she laughed a bit and that was it.
When I read the transcripts and listened to the podcast I was angry! So fucking angry. But at her more than him!
Like I've said, I'm pretty aware of what a pig he is. He doesn't "shock" me when he opens his mouth, he just confirms what I've always known about him. But Jackie O is another story.

How dare she just sit there and let him say those degrading, debasing and demoralising things about another woman. Especially after millions of Australian women jumped to her defence during both the "returning to work" scandal in which Annette Sharp from The Daily Telegraph wrote an open letter questioning Jackie O's choice to return to work so soon after the birth of her baby, and the "feeding while crossing" controversy where she was called a bad mother by Prue Goward for feeding her baby a bottle as she crossed a zebra crossing. (Have just spent over an hour searching for the original articles to link here to no avail! Just a million other articles referencing the two. have they been deleted??)

When these articles came out I defended her without question. I defended her right to work or not work as she chose fit, knowing that women are capable of making their own decisions about how they feel and when they are ready to return to work after having a baby. I felt for her when she broke down in tears on her show and tried to explain why she had returned to work and again when she felt forced to answer why she'd fed her baby that way.

I actually don't think she needed to do that (justify herself), because I don't think it's any of my business how long she has off after her baby was born and because I don't believe her child was endangered in any way at all.
And because I am sick to death of women being women's worst critics! I defended her because no mother should ever be made to feel guilty about being a mother, especially by another mother!

But I'm through defending her any more. She handed in her "woman" card the minute she sat passively by and let him say the things he said, and therefore deserves none of my respect.

I have to wonder, though, why does she let him get away with it? Aren't they supposed to be equals on that show? Why can Kyle turn around and say something as vicious and revolting as threatening to "hunt down" the "fat slag" that happened to write an article about the ratings (or lack thereof) on his new TV show, and she think it's okay to just sit there and laugh?
Is she frightened of him perhaps?  Frightened to stand up to him and put forward her own opinion?
Maybe she agrees. But then, considering Kyle has reduced her to tears on more than one occasion by calling her fat, I really doubt that is the case. 

I wonder if Jackie O knows just how many people (not just women) would stand up and applaud her if she was to once stand up and say No, Kyle. It is unacceptable. Does she not realise the power she holds in her hands?
Right now she is giving him permission to be a chauvanist pig. By not standing up and saying enough is enough she is basically saying it's perfectly okay for him to make comment on the size of her thighs, or baby belly or anything that he thinks is physically wrong with her. She is giving all the young boys who listen to the show permission to judge women by the size of their bottoms. She is saying it's okay for women to be valued by what they look like and how much they weigh. And she is basically saying to all the girls that listen to her that their weight and what they look like is all they are worth and that it's perfectly okay for men to treat them that way. This is the lesson she is teaching to her daughter. 

But imagine what she could do for women and girls around the country who listen to her and look up to her by saying (as we all did when she was judged so harshly and cruelly) This Is Not Acceptable. I Refuse To Enable You Any More, Kyle.
Seriously! 

So yes, I think Jackie O is a silent, dangerous and toxic woman, giving the wrong message to males and females everywhere. 
I doubt she will read my little rant, and even if she does I doubt it will change anything, but I hope she does, and I hope she listens.
And I hope hope hope that the next Kyle and Jackie O story we hear is the one where Jackie O finally steps up to the plate, stops enabling his vileness and says enough!