Didn’t think that my heels were high at all but after more than 40 blocks of marching, glittering, signing and umbrella twirling for sex worker rights at NYC Gay Pride I needed a box of bandaids. More at: www.flickr.com/photos/pjstarr/sets/72157626931673017/
I adorned a friend’s legs because she did not have a costume.
Last year we were followed by “16 pound balls.” This year we were stalked by a giant penis. It was pretty difficult not to have it in the photos.
The feedback from the crowd is so wonderful at Pride. Sex workers and allies from the audience jump up and yell when they see us: one young man climbed up a lamp-post to yell out his support and wave a flag. Many women who saw the “outlaw poverty, not prostitution” sign warmed to the statement. “That’s what I am talking about!” called out one woman with kids. “Keep holding up that sign.” We have more community support than we know. We have to keep on moving forward for rights.
Sex worker rights advocates gathered in Union Square at 2.30 pm today for a public art action in support of recommendation 86 which was recently accepted by the US government as part of the Universal Periodic Review at the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva. Recommendation 86 requires the that US government ensure sex workers’ access to public services and actions to prevent violence and human rights abuses of sex workers.
We prepared for the event once we managed to placate an anxiously Parks and Recreations official that we would not be doing any public tattooing (????)) by symbolically gagging three activists. They then stood silently in perilously high heels for 86 minutes beginning at 3 pm.
The main event. Three activists standing bound and gagged to highlight the oppression faced by sex workers.
At first many people thought that we we protesting against prostitution (rather than against the human rights abuses of sex workers). The bound and gagged “targets” needed some more explanation. We scribbled some political messages on some cardboard and the “targets” stood on them to keep them from blowing away in the wind.
Folks with red umbrellas passed out literature. One advocate said that 9 out of 10 people “got the political arguments.”
Our action was photographed from every angle by excited passersby and by the New York Times.
SWOP NYC member with the trio in the background.
There were patriotic moments.
The final action of the day, turning the ties into the number 86 and leaving it on the ground. It didn’t last long because a tidy member of our protest group picked it up and packed it away.
SWOP-NYC shows how to be hustlas, baby… for sex workers rights. These photos I nervously snapped during the 2010 Hustla Ball which was a benefit for SWOP NYC.
The beautiful banner was made for us by rentboy.com and strategically placed by a SWOP NYC member. We had literature, we had magazines, we had Sarah Jenny. She fanned our new palm card (thanks Ben and Jerry’s Foundation!) out on the benches. In front of us, a guy was methodically branding male workers with the HustlaBall logo, gluing a fancy fake tattoo on their (toned/smooth/muscular) backs. Then a production line of spray paint glitter,stenciling, cartoon underpants (seriously), skull suspenders (for sure)… the body painter was a calm machine. At the end of each paint job, he photographed each guy’s abs.
Conrad saw (was interviewed by?) Robin Bird from Channel 35 but said he forgot to mention SWOP NYC (no big deal). I had a great view of performances from the balcony where our materials were located. Made friends a little bit with Craig Seymour and reminisced about Follies and other places down at Half and O, doing outreach, the guys all hanging around. RIP Half and O, Washington, D.C.
Should we take cabs to the Strip? Is it possible to walk there? We heard it was only one mile. But then we saw a party bus, don’t know who organized it (Kirk? Mariko?) but we all piled in. Wish you could have been there. It was hot sweaty fun and that was just the guy’s hands on the steering wheel. The party in the back of the truck was hilariously camp.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/pjstarr/sets/72157624513259139/show/
It really is a blur … so much adrenaline. We got off the bus, sauntered/ran/jumped down to the legal protest area in front of the Venetian. I remember walking through an archway and Conrad dragging his willingly bound lady friend along the path.
One of our group handed out cards made by Lauren which links to her site: http://www.vegasladybiz.com/ (see photos below) and somewhere in the night I encountered a male escort cruising his way down the street. “I want to find out more,” he said holding up one of the cards. “Come join us,” I yelled but he said he was working. He said he would go to the site and get linked in to organizing. One more person joining our cause. Hooray.
Some of us handcuffed ourselves together, others launched themselves up into acro-yoga positions (no one fell despite our fears) forming living statues more wonderful than anything seen before in Vegas. We chanted. We panted. We spoke to the crowd.
Towards the end of the night we traipsed giddily a little further down the strip, laughing, dancing with delight, holding up our signs to the still burning night.
If it happens in Vegas, it’s still illegal. Make a change for our rights, fight for our rights. End the oppression of people selling sexual services… can you help… oh please do…
