Dichotomy of being seen

Because of how I choose to make the best of my life under capitalism, my mere existence is both utterly invisible and simultaneously hyper-visible.

Invisible in the sense that a large majority of the general population refuse to acknowledge that I am a real person with a wealth of experience and knowledge and varied interests outside of my current profession.

Invisible in the sense that the government, banks, landlords and anyone that I have to deal with on a corporate level refuse to see my labor as valid.

Invisible in the sense that I can’t tell anybody what I do out of fear of judgement or even physical violence.

Invisible in the sense that most people deem my personal relationships as a joke (because nobody could actually love a hooker, right?)

 

And yet…

Depictions of me are the subject of TV shows, movies, books – as either a perpetual victim or some hyper-erotic seductress, usually killed off or used as shock factor.

My peers and I are plastered all over the news at every opportunity as the butt of a joke or scandal.

Fashion trends follow sex worker culture in an attempt to seem ‘edgy’.

The word ‘whore’ is the ultimate insult and is bandied about regularly by most people.

 

So where does that leave me? A caricature of a human, a pair of disembodied legs of the side of an article? A headline ‘hooker left dead in gutter’? Some sob story or punchline used as clickbait? Being laughed at on The Project?

 

It leaves me unable to get a loan or pay my taxes correctly. It leaves me unable to get appropriate medical care or police attention if I need it. It leaves me at the center of attention in social situations like some kind of circus freak because everyone wants to hear stories about my apparently ‘glamorous’ or ‘interesting’ life, but unable to make real connections with people because they oversexualize every aspect of my personality. It leaves me with crippling anxiety because I have to heavily promote myself to get work, but I don’t want to leave the house out of fear of being recognized.

But please, tell me more about how you wish you had my life.