I don't want to live in your world

Just in case anyone forgot for a moment that my job is still stigmatized, I’m putting this out there for all to read.

smart person said...
Ummmm - ok, I. Will break it down for you.You are a
stripper. Stripper = SLUT. Slut = skank. You are a fucking joke. Waht plant do
you come from....Plant Stupid Ho??

I could (should?) delete the comment, and I might… but right now I’m going to talk about it. I find this type of behavior incredible. It’s not new, nor is it original. I know the location and IP of the offender (because I track these things). Obviously not a regular reader, I might have to make some similar security changes as RSG has done recently.

I know I don’t need to elaborate on the oxymoron of the self-appointed name, and the obvious literary skill.

I know I don’t need to point out how absurd, ignorant, and ridiculous the comment actually is.

I know I have no reason to even validate it with a response.

But I guess I’m leaving it for today because I want people to know that this is real. People DO treat me differently. People DO harass and stigmatize strippers and treat us as subhuman. I don’t like being called names, or being ostracized. I don’t like being referred to as worthless trash. But my self-worth is not at risk, and my self-esteem is healthy. It is frustrating. I find myself wondering if our society could be making any progress at all. I don’t understand why our species is so cruel and I find myself questioning the true nature of humanity. Is love, respect, and hope a personal choice that is frequently lost? What is like to wake up each morning and see hatred instead of beauty? How terrifying is it to live in fear? It hurts my soul to be reminded of how lonely, scared, and malicious fear and ignorance can make people. I don’t want to live in that world.

I am still one of the lucky ones. Physically, I am very rarely threatened. I am sheltered from hunger and despair. I may be harassed, but I am not abused. At night I sleep feeling safe and loved. Daily, I watch the women that hover on the streets and in the parking lots around the bars. I look beyond the cuts, burns, and illicit distractions. I see their eyes. I ask their names. They are the forgotten ones, sliding between the cracks of jokes and abuse. We are all Women, with names, stories, and emotions. No one has the right to be abusive verbally or otherwise. This mission is far from over. Yes, I’m guilty. As a teenager, I laughed watching the hookers in the rain. I didn’t think, and no one pulled me out of my self-absorbed bubble to remind me that she is just like me. I realize that now, and I will never forget again. I don’t want my generation to forget. Feminism is rarely a priority anymore, yet obviously the battle is far from equal. I don’t want this neo-conservative attitude to dissolve the determination of my grandmothers. I don’t want to live in that world. I want to live in the world my mother raised me to fight for with conviction, respect, and above all- love.

And I will. My love will spread through my friends and family. The love will touch people and the ripples from my example will create an electrical inspiration that will flow through the relationships we build and the children we raise. I have hope.