the feminist pun-loving thinking writing sexworking type.

#mcon Rehash

It has to be said, and I hate to start out this way, but: Momentumcon was overwhelmingly white and middle-class. I say this as a white, middle-class person who fears the walling-off of an important message. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but it might be relatively painless to reserve a certain number of seats for scholarships. I know there were opportunities to volunteer in return for admittance, but – forgive me – I have oogy feelings over only allowing economically disadvantaged people in if they’re the help. I think this is especially important for a convention that at least partially targets itself at sex workers. The economic divide between groups of sex workers damages us all, and any momentum we achieve must cross boundaries of class, gender, and race. When we fail to do that, we leave ourselves open to justified accusations of elitism, racism, classism. Let’s not do that.

Sorry, speech mode. I held off writing this for a week, mostly because I needed a chance to think things through. I enjoyed Momentumcon. I hope any reader who worked to organize the convention takes my comments as what they are, personal reflections; likewise, please take any criticism in its intended spirit, as a good thing can improve only through honest critique.

Oh my, this is already so awkward. How about I just tell the story?

The night before Momentumcon felt pretty much like the night before the first day of school, even though I’ve been out of school for a few years now. I got a writing bug that was more than a little fueled by the knowledge that people I met at the con might go to my blog, and that I’d been shamefully neglecting it. The rest of the coal thrown into that boiler was this heavy awareness of the fucked-up-ness of the world that has lately sat in the back my throat like phlegm. I fell asleep well after sunrise and dragged myself out of bed at noon. Total sleep time: about four hours.

At least I didn’t dream about getting lost trying to find my classes. It wasn’t that much like the first day of school.

(Although I did get a ridiculous zit. I never get zits! Stupid nerves!)

Friday night was the kick-off, with the ice cream social and all of that. I walked in already feeling kind of shy – reclusive introvert alert! – and it seemed like everyone else had tons of acquaintances around. My crazy Australian friend got kinda naked and invited people to eat ice cream off their body; I neatly scooped up a tongueful of chocolate with sprinkles before an event official asked them to stop. Apparently, there were concerns about the hotel’s reaction, especially since there was a youth conference in the same building. Ah, well. After that, I sat down and drank with British Lucky Paul, (whom I had mooched off to get into the con in the first place) and chatted with some activists from DC.

Total social awkwardness averted. Maria Falzone’s performance of “SEX RULES” was pretty darn hilarious. Ms. Falzone has remarkably funny facial expressions; as I was in the front row, I recieved the full blast. Next was the panel.

Bear in mind that I didn’t do a ton of homework. The last few weeks had been busy with Personal Stuff and Money Woes Boo Hoo Hoo, I hadn’t read up on the con schedule, even. More pretentiously, I like to arrive at conventions without a lot of expectations, because my best-laid schemes have a tendency to meander aft agley.

Bear also in mind that I am not a huge “celebrity” person, although I very much respect people who have done good work, and I rather dislike closed panels in general.

Anyway, the panel. I’d known of Tristan Taormino through blog-crawling, pornings, and my friend Batman’s enthusiastic crush. Vaguely heard of Jenny Block. Not a clue about Reid Mihalko or Dr. Carol Queen, or of the moderator, Lynn Comella, although they were all notable for being foxes. I obviously have some catching-up to do. Lots of time in the panel spent introducing the panelists, then on to general sex-positive stuff, hurrah for the future but beware the enemies of healthy sexuality, etc. Nothing terribly groundbreaking. It was interesting, but I had to pee like a racehorse after my rum-and-coke and $2.50 bottle of water, so I snuck out to the fancy bathroom.

I’d be pretty surprised if a high percentage of #mcon tweets didn’t come from the bathroom. Or maybe that’s just me, and everyone else can multitask well enough to tweet and listen to a lecture or carry on a conversation at the same time. Talented bastards. It was a great bathroom, though, with full walls and everything.

Anyway. Panel ends, clap clap clap, people get their socializing in, I work up the nerve to talk to a cutely avian blond girl with Mad Femme Pride gear.

I should mention something which I haven’t so far. Momentumcon was my first time being out as a sex worker at a large event. I have kind of a lot to be out about even aside from the sex worker thing, as a kinky, poly, queer, gender-odd, nerd, mentally-ill, blah blah long list, I’m a weirdo who cares. Even in spaces where I can be up-front about most of my weirdness, I hold the sex worker thing back; I feel safe, but not that safe. I went into Momentumcon full of the hope that I could be my full, authentic self, and the fear that I’d be rejected.

Ha! See, there it is. Even in an avowedly sex worker-friendly environment, I still had to be on my guard. Something I’ve noticed online: the people who are totally cool with supporting porn performers get all oogy when it comes to whores, or adopt a “YOU may be okay, but 99% of prostituted women [gotta love the forced passivity] are exploited” stance. That’s frustrating. Trying to size up someone for coming-out suitability is frustrating. Having a secret is frustrating.

For a few years, only my ex knew about my job. It’s only been a short while since I started coming out to others. The first was my sir, my primary, whose near-nonchalant reaction completely took me aback. (I texted him all hysterical in the middle of the night, convinced that a) ethics demanded that I tell him and b) he was going to hate me forever and then leave. His response in the morning: “Oh, is that all?”) Now, I’ve lost track of how many people I’ve told. Twenty, thirty maybe. Each one is a small relief.

Mad Femme Pride Girl barely batted an eye. Awesome.

Whirled through dinner on the wings of that relief. I was happy enough to actually get into a weird age-play-y state and drew a bunch of crayon pictures on my diner menu. Introduced Crazy Australian Friend to the wonders of a reuben sandwich. Went back to BLP’s crash and turned into jelly in the hot tub. Met a couple that seemed like the nerdy-cool version of the SNL Lovers. Slept for four hours smelling so much like chlorine that I dreamed about gas masks.

Sleep deprivation, Day 2! Crazy Australian Friend woke us up at 9, so we missed the first set of classes. This may have been a blessing in disguise. There’s a big difference between five hours of sleep and the three hours I would’ve managed if I hadn’t slept through my alarm, the difference between “Sluggish, yet functional” and “Gzzuh snerk sleep zombie.” Chatted with cool peeps in the Recharge Room. Thank god I don’t drink coffee very often; my virginal adrenal system responded very promptly to the caffeine.

Buzzed and full of mini cinnamon rolls, I headed to my first class: “Blogging the Gap: How Sex Workers and Sex Writers Can Work Together.” Again, full-disclosure: I dislike closed panels. They are clumsy – so much time must be spent introducing the panelists, and discussion passes back and forth awkwardly between them. I also feel that they don’t take advantage of the convention format. If I just want to hear people discuss pre-selected questions, I can watch a video of that online. A convention is valuable in that it allows discussion and mixing between Big Names and us peons in the audience, and I find that the closed panel format widens that gap instead of bridging it.

Readers, you’re going to have to forgive me for vagueness, but here it is: I found the class rather othering of sex workers. Although sex workers and bloggers were both in the title, the majority of the audience seemed to be bloggers, and the material seemed aimed at them. Obviously, I am a blogger and a sex worker, but I attended the class because I wanted to know how to “work together” as a sex worker with the rest of Sex-Positive Internet Feminism.

I forget who asserted that sex bloggers and sex workers are in the same boat. Okay, look, I know we all get a lot of the same shit from a sex-negative, crappy culture, but until bloggers have to worry about the police breaking into their workplaces, raping them, and stealing their money before arresting them, WE ARE NOT IN THE SAME BOAT. The same fleet, maybe, but don’t fucking deny that those who write about sex have privileges compared to those who sell it.

The PornWikiLeaks thing came up a lot. Depressing topic. Good point about non-propagation. I’m not linking to anything. You should be able to extrapolate my position on it due to the fact that I’m not a raging lunkhead who doesn’t understand medical privacy. Anyhow.

One person brought up the fact that a lot of sex worker blogs are advertisements for their business and thus not necessarily “authentic” writing, which could have been an interesting discussion, but she then trailed off into talking about her favorite blog, which few people in the room had heard of. A little tragic.

Gotta say, at least part of my motivation was not wanting the audience participation to lack sex worker perspectives, but I did want to bring up language. Specifically, I mentioned whore fetishization and how I tended to check it against a blog’s sophistication on sex work issues in general. Going to write more on this later, but the short version: yes, whore fantasies can be hot as hell. I share them myself. If you, however, incorporate them into your sex and blogging life without showing an understanding that those are LOADED terms, that “filthy Whore” stereotypes have historically been used to oppress sex workers, then you’re engaging in appropriation and pissing me the fuck off.

I don’t know. I think saving the questions for the end, after the audience has already settled into its receptive inertia, is a mistake. And I would have much preferred an open discussion to start with. And and, I would like to have felt equally included for both blogging and sex work. C’est la vie.

Sex Geek Speed-Flirting with Reid Mihalko: Silly. I had a good time making CRAZY EYEBROWS at people.

Next panel: “Media Events for the Sex Positive Professional 101.” This was more of a lecture-style class, with enough density of information that I didn’t mind the relative lack of audience participation. Helpful stuff.
- If I remember correctly: to sound like an expert, succinctly state three things.
1. The problem or concern
2. How it got that way.
3. What to expect in the future.
Handy stuff. Fortunately, I don’t have any media attention on my shit right now, but who knows? I’d like to change the world and keep my relative anonymity, but if I have to choose, it’ll be “change the world” over any personal discomfort.

(Note: In general, I found the single-presenter classes more effective, if simply because of the marketing “This is who I am and here are my products” stuff one cannot avoid with people who make a living off a personal brand. Not hating. Pragmatically, four pitches take a lot longer than one.)

Lunch with Crazy Australian Friend and Mad Femme Pride. I had chili. Too much sugar in the break room to face anything sweet, even though the diner did feature some delicious-sounding waffles. We talked about STIs and the horribly misinformed doctors/sex ed we’d encountered. Also, flesh hooks, which Crazy Australian Friend is all about.

Another panel: “Who is SexyKitty69? Exploring the social media pros & cons of anonymity.” Same problems with the panel format. Very focused on sort of memoir-style blogging about civvie sex; the stated consequences of being outed were presented as largely social or interpersonal, as opposed to legal. Kind of eh about this one. Maybe I should just skip panels with more than two people talking.

I was a little bummed at this point, feeling kind of outsider-y and overcaffinated. I put in an appearance at the Red and Black Ball, but I, um, didn’t realize it was going to be a clubbing sort of atmosphere. (Silly me.) While I like dancing, the overwhelming noise, close press of people, boisterous behavior that goes along with drunkenness, etc., all tend to overwhelm me unless I can retreat to a quieter place. My problem, certainly, and plenty of people seemed to be having a great time.

One issue: I watched most of the burlesque with my usual slightly-green appreciation for grace, but was disturbed by the segment where a young, slightly fratty-looking guy mimed drinking to the point of passing out and throwing up, with added sexy dance moves. Sexualizing a person who is drunk enough to pass out or throw up sets of rape culture alarms in my head. Another set of alarms clamor when I think about the different response the sex-positive, party-thrown-by-a-feminist-sex-store crowd might have had were the dancer miming drunken incapacitation a woman.

Overstimulated and rather skeeved out, I went home with my primary partner. You ever have a Relationship Talk that sneaks up on you at the worst possible time? Yeah. To be fair, there wasn’t really going to be a better time for a few days, and he’s a communication badass.

Three hours of sleep interrupted by an insistently affectionate cat.

Sunday morning dragged across my eyeballs like sticky fingers. I felt low, but even though I whined about having to go back, I thought about the day before. I’ve been thinking a lot about confirmation biases, and wondered if my less-than-stellar time before had started with my shyness and been cemented when I felt othered as a sex worker. It was disappointing to know that I’d have to struggle for representation in an environment where I’d hoped to relax, but knowing that, paradoxically, made it easier to relax.

Plus, I decided to give up the attempt to live-tweet. As it turns out, I’m not very good at following a discussion and writing about it at the same time. There were plenty of people filling that need; I don’t have to do it.

Since Crazy Australian Friend was volunteering, I got to hang out with Jacq Jones of Sugar in the Recharge Room before most of the other attendees came rooting around for coffee. When she asked how I liked the Ball, I talked about my minor noise idiosyncrasy and then switched to my serious concerns with the “drunken” burlesque act. To her credit, she was very attentive to a blast of rape culture criticism first thing in the morning.

“Sex Positive Interventions: The Feminist Sex Wars and Beyond” was a glorious historical rundown of the last 50 years of sex-positive feminist response. (I also got to sit next to a cute genderqueer person, so, you know.) The two-person panel worked well, particularly because both Lynn Comella and Carol Queen had been thoroughly introduced in the opening ceremonies. This was the only panel I saw that used visual aids. The academic in me enjoyed the history very much, and the activist soaked up a lot of information. Susie Bright commented that she was interested in the money trail of the anti-sex crusaders; so am I, but I feel that the sheer saturation of culture, particularly culture outside the sex-positive internet bubble, is crucial. As fraught with controversy as Dan Savage is among feminist sex nerds, he is very, very good at doing this. Not for nothing is the It Gets Better Project a household name, and the new definition of “Santorum” is childishly, viciously effective.

Tangent. Good panel. Learned a lot.

Okay, another beef: of the panels dealing with sex workers, two of them were about our love lives – “What it Takes to (Successfully!) Date a Sex Worker” and “Sex Worker and Single”- and the other was presented for an audience of bloggers. I did not come to Momentumcon because I wanted help with my love life, although I’m sure both classes were interesting. (I only attended “Sex Worker and Single.”) I came to Momentumcon because I am a sex-positive, feminist sex worker with an interest in academic discussion and a desire to learn about effective activism. Perhaps I’m revealing my D&D nerdery here, but I felt that Momentumcon’s treatment of sex work issues was heavily weighted towards fluff, where I was looking for crunch.

I use the word “othering” with some trepidation. It’s such a fuzzy concept – I kind of hate fuzzy concepts – but it was something I felt a great deal. A perfect example was with Reid Mihalko’s “Sex Worker and Single” class, which I attended on a whim. I very much appreciated that he had us introduce ourselves and bring up topics we wanted to cover. First of all, it helped to designate the space as one where the audience and the presenter weren’t so segregated. Second, it made it clear that the audience in the specifically sex-worker-aimed class consisted mostly on non-sex-workers.

The class itself was largely based around dating in general, with more of a inclusive vibe to it. As general dating advice goes, it was excellent; I particularly liked Reid’s maxim of “Date your species.” As I’ve limited my own dating pool to sex-positive, poly, largely-kinky types, my relationship angst has dwindled tremendously, and it was good to hear that reinforced. (After all, “dating your species” LIMITS YOUR DATING POOL, and that can be scary for people who already have a hard time making connection.)

The sex-worker-specific material, however, was limited to talk of managing emotional needs in a profession based around intimacy. Useful stuff, but the focus seemed to go to the non-sex-workers in the room in discussion. (Admission: I had my hand up about half the time myself.) Yes, people who aren’t sex workers can have trouble with pouring out more emotional support than they’re getting, but it was a sex worker panel.

I was disappointed that, when I raised this issue at the end of class, one of the convention organisers – I think Diva, although I am notoriously bad with names and I apologize for it – told me that Momentumcon was for a general sex-positive audience and, if I wanted a focus on sex workers, my only choice was the Desiree Alliance con. This pissed me off. One of the major problems sex workers face in feminist circles is the silencing of our voices by the civvie majority. People insist that their problems are more numerous and thus justify brushing ours to the side. (Feminists who insist that sex work and all its problems will just vanish after the revolution are an extreme version of this, but “Sex bloggers and sex workers are in the same boat” counts, too.) I should not have to argue for the right for sex workers’ issues to be front and center in a class that announces its focus on sex workers RIGHT IN THE TITLE. I just shouldn’t.

To be fair, Reid Mihalko was very responsive, and offered his own time to talk with the sex workers in attendence after class. (Fortunately, I had some leftover Chipotle in my purse, since I Was missing lunch.) It would be difficult to overstate how much I appreciated his care and empathy. Whatever he normally charges for his time, it’s not enough; I got away with a steal by walking the knots out of his back. Skin-to-skin contact with a blue-eyed cutie: twist my arm, why don’tcha? But I feel like I’m trivializing, and I appreciate his allowance of my need for reciprocation as much as I do the time and energy we spent in talking. (And, Reid, if you happen to read this, next time our paths cross, I’d like a conversation on woo.)

I skipped the section after lunch on Sunday, although I particularly wish I’d gone to “Personal Branding for the Sex-Positive Activist”, and ended up talking to the other Andrea at the convention, Ms. Vriesen from http://www.lovermagazine.ca/. Did I mention how absolutely gorgeous she is? Because I should mention that only in tandem with praise for her openmindedness and charm, and the super-high production quality of her magazine sample. (I freaked her out talking about the impending gang-rape scene I’m planning this summer. Gotta remember that, outside kink circles, “gang-rape scene” requires a lot of explanation.) We had a lovely conversation, although she seemed a bit surprised when I mentioned sex work. I know I come off as reserved, but I’m pretty amused that people have a little dissonance at learning that the reserved (or awkward) girl they’re speaking to is an escort. (I was going to say “veteran escort,” but although five years is a lot longer than the dabblers stay in, I am often in awe of the wisdom and wealth of experience of those who have been escorting for decades.)

The closing session, “Multigen Feminist Pornographers Mouth Off,” gathered all the attendees in one place. Susie Bright and Tristan Taormino are both engaging speakers, and between the two of them, gave a pretty decent account of sex-positive feminism and porn from the beginning of the Sexual Revolution to the present. After feeling so split-off for large portions of the convention, it was good to reassert the sense of togetherness. I’ve been reading other recaps of Momentumcon, and I keep seeing mentions of the feeling that we were all comrades in arms in the fight for a culture that supports healthy sexuality. In that room, in that company of sex educators and sex workers, event promoters, activists, health professionals, counselors, academics, queers and straights, sluts, freaks, pervs, and bloggers about all of the above, I felt it a little bit. Not a lot, not entirely, but it was a start.

A small relief.

Denouement: After the ending remarks, I hung out with Crazy Australian Friend in the Recharge Room, picking all the nuts out of the fruit mix in order to get some protein to keep me awake for the drive home. (I appreciate all the snacks, but this whore cannot live on sugar alone.) Molly Ren, who I’d seen commenting on May May’s blog, was kind enough to talk to me about feederism, and I challenged Strap-on Jo to a handjob competition, although I had to back out due to sheer exhaustion. Much regret! Driving back was hazardous enough at it was.

After such a social high, I’ve spent the last week trying to fit enough alone/processing time into my schedule. I like to say that I’m an introvert who loves people, but I still have the introvert exhausted-by-groups thing going on. Too, I wanted to figure out how to express my mixed feelings without downplaying the things I loved about Momentumcon: the feeling of community, of a shared cause; the ability to be out; the high level of personal consideration. Not once did anyone touch me without asking. No one’s lip curled when I mentioned my job. Although I didn’t hear anyone ask for preferred pronouns, nobody blinked when I referred to my friends as “they [singular]” or “hir.” I got so many good things out of the con.

Next year, I hope it will be better.

(And maybe I’ll come up with some proposals for sex worker panels. If I want something, perhaps I’d better do it myself.)

—
Shout-outs to:
@straponjo
@reidaboutsex
@sabrinamorgan
@mollyren
@BritLuckyPaul

I am almost certainly missing people. Tell me who you are!

Other Momentumcon Recaps for a Wide Variety of Opinions:

10 Things About MOMENTUM (Evil Slutopia)

MOMENTUM: Day 1 Day 2 Overdue Day 3 Recaps and Reflection (conflicted eXXistence)

Momentum: The Inspiration (uncensor: A Place for Dialogue)

Finding My Own ‘Momentum’ (Deviant Dance)

Why MomentumCon Rawks (Poly Weekly)

Sustaining the Momentum (Practical Polyamory)

Momentum Con – Part 1: These are My People and Momentum Con- Part 2: The Bubble (Dangerous Lilly)

An Extraordinary Gathering (and a Gathering of the Extraordinary) (The Green Light District)

Momentum Con Recap (Sex Positive Activism)

Momentum (Diva’s World)

Momentum Liveblog Part 1 Part 2 and Part 3 (Imagine Today)

If you wrote a Momentumcon recap, let me know and I’ll post it.