Having recently finished up at uni for the year, I eagerly
prepared myself for the exciting summer ahead. Beers and barbeques; sunbathing
and beaches; picnics in the gardens! I settled down to enjoy all of the spoils
of summer...for about a week. Next thing I know I’m eating a stale egg sandwich
in Temuka Tea Rooms before re-boarding my bus bound for Christchurch and six
day work weeks. For the past few summers I have found myself working for a
rental company cleaning properties between tenants. Being hot boxed by cleaning
chemicals in small bathrooms, ruining all my clothes with Janola and acquiring
second degree oven cleaner burns are many of the fun activities that I have
enjoyed during my employment. In only my second or third day back at work, I
found myself stationed in a flat that acted as the ‘office’ of a group of, um,
working women. While pulling multi-coloured wads of hair out of the shower drain
and scrubbing candle smoke from the walls (the ‘romantic first date’ package
had been proving popular this year) a man walks in off the street and yells up
the stairs,
“Excuse me? Are you available, or are you about to head
out?”
My boss, an attractive blonde female dressed head to toe in
bleach stained cleaning clothes somewhat similar to this [see below] misinterprets this entirely and answers,
“No sorry; this flat has already been rented out.”
The 'sexy maid' option, for men who get off on realism.
Confused and dejected, the man slowly backs out of the room and out the door.
Following him is venom from my judging eyes.
Anger and hatred simmer beneath the surface for the rest of
the afternoon. Satisfying imaginary scenarios where I come running down the
staircase brandishing my scrubbing brush and screaming “women are not for sale,
you misogynistic son of a bitch!” replay themselves in my mind, increasing in
scale and intensity with every rerun. My instant, unprovoked anger revealed to
me that afternoon a severe prejudice I never really knew I had; I hate the sex
industry. More specifically, I hate the people who use it. I know that it is
generally seen as more progressive for feminists these days to be totally down
with the prozzies, but I just can’t. Please don’t get me wrong; I am firmly pro
legal prostitution, and am proud to live in a country where sex workers receive
valid legal protection, recognition and an opportunity to work from a safe
environment (even if I do have to clean it up after them). But that doesn't mean that I have to sympathise with their choices, or the choices of the men
who visit them. The fact that it is not seen as completely unthinkable to buy a
woman like she is a piece of meat makes me very sad, and very, very angry.
Maybe
one day I will be mature enough to sit down and rethink my disdain of sex work.
I will look at the issue from multiple perspectives and hear this man, and
others like him, out in an open minded and understanding way. But today, my
friend, is not that day. Get out there and earn your sex through personality, mutual
respect and a dash of charm like everybody else has to you lazy, sad little
man!
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