I am so grateful for all of Star Light’s volunteers and supporters, whether on club teams, on the Board of Directors, as helpers with the Exotic Dancer, M.B.A., office helpers, donors, thinkers, pray-ers, all of you. The future of Star Light is now in the hands of our very capable Board of Directors, a group of folks whom I love. They, too, have a passion for sex workers. They, too, have been changed by the stories of the women we serve. They have already begun implementing a transition plan for the future of Star Light, and I know that Star Light is in good hands.

There so many women I have worked with through the years. Each one changed me in a special way, either changing my thinking, changing my ideals, challenging what I think I know, and I want to post about each. I will be using noms du jour for many of you, but if you’re a public persona, I’ll use your blog name. If you want to know if one of them is you, let me know and I’ll tell you!

Red-Headed One: You were the first. You showed me the beauty, strength and hope that sex workers have. You made me struggle with the idea that sex work can both empower and take away power at the same time. You showed me that all things are possible.

Pebbles: You showed me that sex work can be ministry, too. You told me a story one time, about a senior client who came in on Christmas Eve every year, who was lonely and just needed a caring ear. Your giving spirit never, ever ceases to amaze me.

Kat: Brilliance and feminism, fun and stability, you had it all. I wonder sometimes where you are, who you are, and how you are doing. I hope that you are following your creative dream.

The fiercest, Betty Page make-up mistress ever: You showed me how strip club families can be just that, family. The way you cared for the women you work with and followed through on their needs, and gave the women you worked with an outlet for their creativity has always stayed with me.

Tuesday: You taught me about the racism that is still pervasive in the clubs, but even more than that, you showed me how to persevere and overcome it. If you ever read this, in your very official job, I am so proud of you! And big kisses to your daughter.

C: You are the woman that makes me doubt the fairness of all of life. Some women get all the benefits of a great education, a supportive family, but do very little with it. You got none of the foundations, have had to struggle for every bit of success that you have, and it’s all been an uphill battle. You are the most courageous woman I have ever met. Keep fighting, C. And don’t forget to write!

Veronika: You Rock. Nothing more. Just You ROCK!

Emily Cagel: I never knew you, but your death moved me. I came back to Star Light because I believe that no sex worker should ever be killed, because violence against one woman is violence against all women. I still pray for your family. Thank you for inspiring me. And may you never be forgotten by sex workers and their allies.

Audacia Ray: You make more sense than anyone I have ever met. When I grow up, I want to be you.

Ren: You are power. You are strength. You are woman. I know that your fervor is fueled by love. I would like to be as brave as you.

Lily: You inspire me with your desire for social justice and equality for all people. You inspire me with your brilliance. You inspire me with your sensitivity. You have given me far more than I have ever given you.

Susan: You are one of the most fun people I have ever met. Thank you for being my friend. Margaritas soon, okay?

Avalon: You know, when I think of you, I think of determination. Your intelligence, stick-to-it-ive-ness (I know! It’s not a word!), all the lessons you have learned and shared. I know you’ll go on to more success, and I’m confident you’ll take other sex workers with you. Thank you for teaching me about economic power.

Hidden Dragon: Beauty, brains, and brawn. Congratulations on all you have done, and much success in the future. I’m glad you’re not lonely anymore!

Amanda Brooks: I’m convinced that one day I’m going to say, “I knew her when…” You never let setbacks get you down. I admire your dedication, your spunk, and your heart.

Bridgette: Big kisses, girlfriend. You’re the greatest mom, and your love for your child inspires me. I hope all your dreams come true.

Panther: “Life is difficult. This is the great truth, one of the greatest truths—it is a great truth because once we see this truth, we transcend it.” M. Scott Peck. You are transcendent.

Brooke: Dear Brooke. There’s never been any doubt that I love you, that you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met. I’m so grateful for your friendship, your perspective, and your honesty. Thank you for teaching me, accepting me and putting up with me.

There are so many more. So many special women who have given me so much more than I have ever given them. Even though I am not working for Star Light anymore, you are still in my thoughts, prayers, and heart.

That’s a given.

But how do sex workers get those rights?

Although Prop K didn’t pass in San Francisco, there were a lot of gains there. 42% of voters voted for the decriminalization of sex work. That’s huge.

But more needs to be done. And in order for concerted efforts to take hold, the sex worker community needs to pull together. Ren has written a great post on the sex worker caste system. Lessons from the civil rights movement tell us that this can be overcome, but we have to invite everyone to the table to discuss their needs and wants out of the sex workers rights movement.

Here’s my easy (ha!) list of things that need to be done in order to achieve full rights for sex workers:

Money is power. Sex workers have to gain financial viability. This means paying taxes. Having bank accounts. Financial viability means making financial contributions to candidates that support your work. Financial viability means spending power for the community. In the civil rights movement, African-Americans had banks, businesses, and they used that economic power to influence the political powers-that-be.

Build community. Sure, community is hard. Frustrating. Messy. There are personalities that clash. There are people who do not do their fair share of the work. There are people who want to distance themselves from the cause. But in order to have community, you have to give people permission to be different. If a sex worker doesn’t want to march, then find something that s/he will do. Work with one another. There are four stages of community, and you will go through all of these, collectively and alone: pseudo-community (where everyone is nice, and mostly honest), chaos (this is characterized by lots of fighting, people talking about rules, frustration and anger), emptiness (in this stage, people give up their ideas of what SHOULD happen, and let go of their own agendas), and, finally, community. True community is characterized by a willingness to see others as equal to yourself, sharing, letting people be themselves, and cooperation.

Court your elders. There must be a way for people who have left sex work to remain in the movement. There must be hundreds of thousands of people who have left sex work who are still concerned for the movement, even though they want to protect their anonymity. Find these people! Invite them to participate, even privately, through donations, support groups, mentoring.

Ask for help. One of the major issues I see in the movement is that sex workers are having to re-create the wheel. There are proven ways of building community, of organizing. Find an expert will to help organize sex workers. Yep. You’ll probably have to pay the person. But use their expertise. For example, if you run a sex worker organization and your Board is falling apart, call a non-profit specialist on your particular issue and have them come in to work with your Board. The reality is that these particular issues are not sex worker related. They are organization related. And all organizations have them!

Trust your allies. I have long wanted to be an ally in the sex workers rights movement. However, I constantly butt up against the distrust that sex workers have of me. I understand the distrust. People have used and manipulated sex workers. But sex workers must quit assuming that everyone is out to get something from you, and begin to build trust with individuals on a case-by-case situation. And instead of assuming that allies are bad when we mess up (because we will mess up), explain it. Communicate it. Give a second chance. And even a third.

Mind your boundaries. Remember that you can only do what you can do. Only sign up for what you can do. I always tell people in my work that if no one steps forward to do a task, maybe that task is not important. Allow your partners in the movement to mind their boundaries, too. You might think about how many hours you are willing to put into the fight. You might think about how much money you’re willing to spend. You especially need to think about how much emotional capital you want to put into the fight.

Sex workers deserve human rights. Always keep this goal in front of you, so that you have the stamina to sustain the movement.

When I awoke from the dream, I knew something was different.

Maybe it’s only a tiny shift, but it’s a shift nonetheless.

I have worked, since the inception of Star Light, for viewing sex workers as whole people, as bright and shining women and men, who are powerful agents in their own lives. But in all honesty, when I started this ministry eight years ago, I thought there was a difference between me and the sex workers. I believed I could help. Mind you, it was never a sense that I knew what was right for any woman, never that I knew better than her where her life could go, never that I had all the answers, but it was, perhaps, that I had more experience, more networks, more maturity and could help. Basically, I thought that I was better than sex workers, even if only in degrees.

In my immaturity, I committed the sin of othering, especially when it came time to talk about the ministry I was doing. I talked about the kind of statistics Melissa Farley talks about. I used the “these poor women” tactic, because it was the only one I knew. I shudder now when I think about talking about some of the sermons and teaching I did. I try to imagine myself saying those things in front of the women I work with, and I just can’t imagine it.

I’ve been thinking about a sermon I heard in my preaching class in seminary, by a friend named Kara. The type of sermon we were supposed to be preaching was on a specific social justice issue, and hers was on homosexuality. As a rhetorical device, Kara used a lot of “those people” statements, which were very effective for understanding that “those people” weren’t different from everyone else (by the way, this was a VERY radical view in our seminary, which I shared with Kara). The finale of the sermon came when Kara, this straight, sweet, innocent woman with a lilting voice, exclaimed, “I’m a homosexual!”

I saw myself as “other,” and that is sin. I am sorry.

I perpetuated that othering through conversations, preaching and teaching. I am sorry.

Ultimately, though, I realize that I didn’t take the role of prophet far enough. I am convinced that the church is replete with well-intentioned people who are committing the sin of othering through their mission endeavors. Church members are concerned with the sin of commercial sex, but, really, it keeps them cozy in their feeling, “I’m better than you.” Failing to understand this, and failing to point this out, put me in collusion with their sin.

And I am sorry.

Towards the end of Jesus’ ministry on earth, he begins explaining to his disciples that he’s going to be killed. Then he says,

I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends.

I don’t resonate with Jesus calling his disciples servants. However, the shift in his understanding of who the disciples were does resonate with me. It’s a shift from “I’m better than you,” to “I’m equal to you and you are equal to me.” It says, “I no longer teach, I learn. I no longer comfort, I am comforted. I no longer lead, but I am lead.” There’s a healthy reciprocity in the relationship. I feel that, and I think my dream on Saturday illustrates it more than anything.

I am grateful for my friends who are sex workers for putting up with me thus far. You have taught me about strength. You have taught me about resilience. But most of all, you have taught me acceptance, the greatest component of love. Thank you.

And I have to say that a little of my cynicism has washed away. I don’t believe that politics can change all the problems of the United States. I don’t believe that a new president will automatically reform all that is wrong in the world. I don’t believe that a change in party, a change in politicians, a change from conservative to liberal will really make that big of a difference.

But I DO believe that ENGAGEMENT can change everything. If I am engaged in the political process, if my neighbor is engaged in the political process, even if my enemy is involved in the political process, then everything can change.

It’s not about THEM. It’s about US. We can make a difference. Yes we can!

(Do ya’ll hear that? It’s a tiny bit of hope creeping in.)

And I want to send out a shout out to the Proposition K folks in San Francisco. It may not be a win, but it’s a step in the right direction. Like the quote that’s been going around, “Rosa sat so Martin could walk. Martin walked so Barack could run. Barack is running so our children can fly.” You have started the process, like Rosa Parks.

I am very proud of all of you who spoke up in favor of Prop K, for the organization that you built, for saying what you believe and saying it loudly. You ROCK!