Amazing escort article: "To all the girls who envy my life"

I recently discovered the writing of escort Charlotte Shane. Here's an amazing article of hers. I'm not sure I agree with all her conclusions, but she frames them beautifully and asks thoughtful questions:

For about three years, I've written honestly about my life as a prostitute on a modestly trafficked blog. I never intend to glamorize my profession, and I don't list expensive gifts I receive or lavish items I buy for myself. I avoid rhapsodizing about exotic vacations or name-dropping hotels. I never disclose my rates and I don't claim every encounter ends in mind-blowing orgasms -- or any orgasm at all. That type of sensationalistic hype is really only good for selling books or selling face time on TV shows, neither of which I'm interested in.

I use my space online to write as accurately as I can about the experience of having sex for money, mostly because I need that outlet for my own mental and emotional reasons, but also because the stories that usually reach non-sex-working audiences are too often two-dimensional and extreme -- focused on a white, "high-class" call girl finding happiness through her designer-label lifestyle, or drug-addicted and pimp-abused street prostitutes whose lives have been a series of degrading assaults. I do my best to not make my situation seem simplistic or easy to categorize. While I often write about clients whose company I enjoy, I also share my occasional fear, revulsion, violation and sadness.

So why would some women want to duplicate my circumstances? We could blame the usual scapegoats. "Secret Diary of a Call Girl" is a cutesy fantasy full of adventure and expensive fashion. One-time Eliot Spitzer date Ashley Dupre became known to the country as a tan, lanky beauty sporting designer accessories on a yacht. And so-called No. 1 Escort in New York Natalia McLennan recently released a memoir of her days making $2,000 per hour. But I think the causes are far more complex than a few pop culture artifacts. The glamour of prostitution can't be traced back to the 1970s "Happy Hooker" Xaviera Hollander or the unrepentant schlock of "Pretty Woman." It's the persistent symptom of a society that still insists sexual desirability is a woman's duty, and wealth is the most important hallmark of success. A young woman who is desirable is a young woman who wields power, and that power is often bestowed in the form of cold, hard cash.

Which isn't to say the women who e-mail me are power hungry. Rather, I think they are recognizing the ways their culture tells them to achieve. Girls aren't bombarded with messages telling them that their mental power is urgently needed to address issues like global warming or infectious diseases, or that their athleticism could be parlayed into a life as a professional athlete or coach. Instead, we're told over and over again that we earn a place at the table -- any table -- by being polished and well-dressed, with glossy hair and a slim figure. The girls who e-mail me are not lacking internal resources. They're educated, sensitive, observant, and they have the complex sentences and insightful wording to prove it. But they are living in a world where a woman's worth is constantly equated with her sex appeal. Is it any wonder that many women might find it compelling to take that equation to its logical end?

[Hat tip to Amanda Hess]