Personal and Professional Stories of A Working Human
My pimp (what the hell else do I call him? My boyfriend?) signed me up with a local sexual health clinic. My regular doctor there was very incompetent and the other doctors I saw occasionally were equally bad. They didn’t really appear to know much about medicine even though they were real doctors, and the nurse was a bit better but still fairly clueless. Most of the times I went in the staff were pretty rude to me by subtly calling me a slut, and sometimes blatantly calling me a slut. Even though I think a lot of sex workers who went there did say what they did, I didn’t feel like I could for some reason, I think my biggest fear was that people really didn’t like that I was working illegally in their country.
One week I came in to ask for a different type of birth control and while we were going over my medical past the doctor had no idea what I was talking about when I told her one of the problems I had had (I’m going to leave the specifics out), she didn’t even know what I was talking about. I was using clinical terms she had never head of, I thought maybe they had different terms for this thing in England? So she went and found another doctor and this doctor did know what I was talking about, and she even seemed competent and quite knowledgeable. She took me into her office to speak alone, and she asked me about what was going on with the bruises and condition of my vagina. She said she could see I was in an abusive relationship and she suspected I was working as a sex worker, but also noted that it looked like I had been raped, or not fully consensual (leaving a bit of the story out here for personal reason). I was a bit scared that she was about to tell me she was going to report me to immigration control, I had so many threats of that from men I saw (when I didn’t want to have sex with them sometimes), I was constantly scared that someone was going to turn me in. Always waiting for the police to come and yell at me. But she was actually really nice about it. It wasn’t even a mom speech even though that’s how I am remembering it now, I remember it was very peer to peer like as if she knew what I was going through or at least empathized rather than pitied.
So we talked a bit about the abuse and my living conditions with this abusive person and the abuse they also forced me to endure from other people and she told me she wanted to get me in touch with this organization of women who were sex workers or ex sex workers. I’m not comfortable mentioning specifics here but it was a sort of sex workers rights organization that offered advice and legal help for sex workers.
When I finally got up the nerve to call the organization I talked to a woman who said that she thought we should meet in person if there was a way for me to safely do that. I ended up meeting her at an office she gave me directions to and we talked about options. She said she could help me. She said we had a couple options, I could literally just leave and never see him again, but that seemed too dangerous because we had mutual friends and I didn’t want him to get them involved in any way. Another option, which I ended up taking, was getting a mediator who would go with me to pick up anything from his flat and help us “break up” if I wanted to talk to him. I didn’t actually go to his flat, I just left my stuff there, and we met at a local pub instead and the mediator let me sort of sit really close to her because I was so nervous.
We sat at the pub and she gave me some advice as to how to talk to him if certain things happened and reassured me that she would be there for me. He showed up and he was already angry and abusive towards me. He actually reacted worse than I thought he would.
I saw him, my heart raced just seeing his face but then I panicked when I saw him sort of stomping towards me and ready to shout or even hit me. He screamed at me that I was a whore and a stupid ugly bitch, and other things. He came up and grabbed the back of the stool at the table we were at and continued to shout at me. He picked up the stool and threw it at us, it sort of missed us all together but I think that was unintentional. The bartender, who was this little blonde woman, came up and told him he needed to leave. He somehow fell over while trying to throw more furniture at us. The bartender ran up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and dragged him, on his back, out of the pub. He was outside shouting for a while and she locked the door to the pub we all watched him screaming that we was going to sue her, and she had broken his back or something.
I apologized over and over and said I didn’t mean to bring drama into the pub. She told me that she knew he was a piece of shit. She was so nice to me but I still felt terrible for a long time, as if this was all my fault. I didn’t actually think he would have the nerve to get violent or even yell if we were in public. The mediator woman I was with said it wasn’t my fault and her and the bartender kept comforting me. The bartender said we would just wait for him to go away but he actually ended up calling the police and when he said he wanted to file a claim against the bartender because she had broken his back by throwing him down the stairs. Which obviously was bullshit.
He never did press charges against her as far as I know. I vaguely remember the police saying she was within her rights, or something like that. Something like she hadn’t used excess force or something. I don’t remember, it was something along those lines but I think I’m saying phrases I’ve heard in television shows so I’m not sure exactly what they had said.
So that, I remember a lot more clearly now that I write it down, than I thought I would. I will move on to the good bit.
I not only got a mediator and legal help (to deal with immigration advice and such) but I also met some women who worked for an escort agency and they told me I should apply to an agency and I could do it online even if I had photos I could send in. So I did, and they gave me references so I was hired very quickly.
I didn’t work with the agency that long but it did introduce me to a completely different world of sex work that I actually enjoyed. I enjoyed the clientele and the overall level of respect was so much higher that it was really good for me mentally and emotionally I think. I actually regained my sensuality which I had held so dear to my heart for my whole life but had lost through sexual abuse and emotional abuse. It did fix everything but it did me a lot of good. I didn’t really like working the agency but I am very grateful for them because they not only introduced me to better people but they gave me a real view of what kind of standards I could have for clients. I could demand respect and I could refuse clients who I didn’t like or wasn’t comfortable with, and before that I really had no concept of this. Overall it was a positive move in my life.