The Second Oldest Profession

That’s right! Prostitution is not the oldest profession in the world, no matter what people say.

So what’s the oldest??

Farming! Read your Bible if you don’t believe me!

So if farmers are being taken care of by the government and are protected, why aren’t the “working girls” also protected? Is it because there is a stigma attached to prostitution that is not attached to farming?

The sex industry has many needs, beginning with health. I’m not the first and certainly won’t be the last to rail against the discrimination in our country. Other countries require health exams and take good care of the ladies of the night.

Many need treatment for abuse of alcohol and other drugs. They need to be able to have an insurance that helps to pay for such things, as well as access to counseling.

They need legal protection instead of harassment. There is a relevant article that was posted on alternet.org about violence against sex workers. No one seems to care if a prostitute is beaten, robbed, or even murdered.

Someone told me of a female Episcopal priest who took a white tablecloth, candles, and a full meal down to Waikiki one Christmas Eve. She put the cloth over a garbage bin and served the women who were working the streets that night. That kind of caring is rare.

Sex is something we all need. It is a vital and natural part of our lives. For those who have no partner, what is wrong with paying someone for the illusion of love, just for a short while? This goes for women as well as men. But it’s as though even loving or doing something that natural becomes the forbidden act. It suddenly becomes naughty if you pay for it, or do “it” with someone you shouldn’t.

Sometimes I think married women are nothing more than prostitutes. They stay home and clean, care for children, and are expected to be available for sex whenever the husband wants it. They are paid by being given a home and a “name.” At least they are considered righteous and deserving, but often with as little legal protection and rights as a prostitute.

I remember finding a slip of paper for sale in a Tombstone AZ store that was a copy of an old “permit” to be a prostitute. Several of us who were wives took them home and put them up on our kitchen wall. Our husbands didn’t appreciate it one bit.

I think perhaps husbands can feel prostituted, as well. They work to provide a home and income, and in return they are granted a bit of sexual pleasure.

So who are the advocates for the sex workers? Men don’t speak up for fear of being accused of … what? Frequenting brothels? Having caught a disease? Women don’t speak up for them because “it just isn’t the right thing to do.”

Who then will speak up for them?

There is a poem written by Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) who was a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp. He writes about our political apathy until finally there is no one left to speak up for us.

No, I am not a prostitute. It is not a life I choose. So why should I be standing up for them? I have always been an advocate for those who needed me to be – the gays, the lesbians, the blacks, the poor, the children. I could go on and on. Like Niemöller, I must ask, “who will be there for me when I need it?”

This has rambled, I’m afraid, but I hope you understand my intent. Even in hard economic times, sex is something we all need – perhaps even more so, if we are to have that fleeting feeling of belonging and love, even if we have to pay for it.

I blow you a kiss ~ ~ ~
Fanny