The sex industry remains the star attraction in the feminist debate over
the nature of and complicity with gender-based oppression. While feminists
are united under the causes of eradicating forced sex work, the sex
slave trade, and the social factors that drive some people into sex
work, there are lots of feminists—even those not really psyched about
consensual sex work—that view those who choose sex work as employees.
Due to this position, they consider the material condition of sex
workers a feminist issue. There are employees out there dealing with
sexual harassment (from employers, clients, and other employees),
hostile work environments, and unfair labor practices in an industry
that lacks union representation. For an industry that nets an estimated
yearly income of $10 billion dollars, the abuse of consenting labor
for profit is a business model.
In what is a very consumer-driven
market, the role of the consumer as labor advocate is weakened by
many factors, including socialized compulsory heterosexuality and
overdetermined masculinity. Check out any self-identified playa at
a strip club bachelor party and you’ll see how much male heterosexual
identity relies on imagined hypermasculinity (just keep that Fendi
wallet open, yo). And, unionizing shops is difficult without consumer
back; in fact, there is only one unionized peep show in the
At
the core of the feminist debate, sex workers are viewed on one side
as complicit with or victims of gender-based oppression and on the
other they are seen as taking control of the expression of their sexuality.
In other words, rather than solely the object of the voyeur’s gaze,
they meet that gaze in control of their own sexuality and body. But
while dueling ideologies are selling subscriptions to feminist magazines
and books, that $10 billion dollars isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
The thing is: that number might do something much different if sex
workers had more visibility as labor activists. Perhaps, more sex
positive feminists would gain economic power as business owners and
turn the tone of the industry; the titillation factor of mass-marketed
hetero male-focused porn, for example, would look more like its counterpart
in feminist sex positive porn literature, which, instead of positioning
the female as an objectified receiver, for example, lifts female agency
and desire to a power and status equal to that of her male partner(s).
Annie Oakley, a sex worker, activist, and promoter based in
In 1997, Oakley launched the show in
Oakley’s mission is to humanize phone
sex operators, peep show dancers, prostitutes, escorts, porn actors,
and strippers by inviting those who also work as visual artists, writers,
and performers to showcase their work.
“There are a lot of stereotypes
that describe all sex workers as stupid, drug-addicted, or abuse survivors,”
says Oakley. “These ideas serve to isolate sex workers from the rest
of the world.”
The Sex Worker’s Art Show offers employee artists a
voice in the form of spoken word, readings, music, film, and theatre.
In many locations, the performance space is transformed into an art
gallery as well. Inspired performances ranging from the satirical
and critical to the introspective and bizarre investigate all aspects
of sexuality and socio-cultural mores—a racy burlesque number or monologue
parodying the relationship between voyeur and dancer might be followed
by a hard-hitting documentary about the lives of youth prostitutes.
Oakley might divide the heavier subject matter with humorous skits
and burlesque numbers, but the audience is never allowed to lose sight
of the point. There is no doubt that the performers in the show are
imbedded in the life as sex positive or sex work activists or industry
professionals determined to raise awareness about issues of gender,
labor, and sexuality.
“This event starts a discourse between the public
and sex workers,” says sex work activist and artist Shane Luitjens.
“It provides a forum that reveals the fact that we are conscious of
our choices.”
The 2007 tour began in
