Moon Memo: Office Work, Sex Work, My Work
Office Work
I was able to get today's work done before noon today. This is pretty standard in an office job, but unfortunately I'm now stuck here with not much to do. It was data entry, which broke my mind for much other work. And now I'm ahead of schedule, and also don't want to do my task for tomorrow. Because then I'll be twice as bored as I was today.
Everyone is going to tell me how hard this job is. It's not cleaning toilets at 5 in the morning. This is progress. I've been in both worlds, and I know which I'd prefer to be a part of.
Jade has started to feel the class fury. The idea that the folks in the office do not work nearly as hard as those on the floor. And they are right. It's unfair. It's deeply unfair. And it's why I try not to complain about the actual labor that I do. Because this job is easy. It should stay this easy. I don't want to work any harder than I do. I want it to be easy enough for everyone.
But also: I know that I am existentially not important, at least not as important as my other folks. I'm not an essential worker. And I shouldn't be paid like I am one.
There is very little in this world that pretends at fairness. I will always know that. I will never forget the absolute shatter of all the millwrights and farmers that came before me. I will never forget that they should have had more. And more. And more. Office work feels fake in the realm of their glory and sweat.
Sex Work
Last night I was invited to a Cliff Media shoot. I will not use names here. I was invited by a friend/lover, who has found liberation in this work.
I've known about Cliff Media for a while. I've had friends who have done work with them for the last few years. Here is their mission statement (from https://cliffmediaproductions.com/):
"At Cliff Media, we use porn production as a tool for social transformation. Our work challenges toxic stereotypes, celebrates empowered female and queer sexuality, and strives for a world where all people are welcome, wanted and free to be themselves.
Women, LGBTQ+ folks, people with disabilities and Black, Indigenous and people of color develop scene storylines and run the company. Rather than recruiting professional actors, we welcome all good-hearted people to join us. The storylines are based on directors’ fantasies, but participants are encouraged to play any way they want, with all the humor, awkwardness and joy of real life."
Porn and other sex work is a part of life for my community. For many queer people, especially trans people, sex work is the work that they have access to. When a community is marginalized, when they are called "the other", when they end up at the end of a pointed finger, often sex work is the only work available to them. I've said a number of times, only half jokingly, that I've often seen my friends naked before I've seen them in "real" life.
The shoot was in a nondescript house in the middle of a neighborhood. We were led into a comfortable basement, filled with matresses and couches and wall hangings.
The first 45 minutes was a discussion of the differences between porn and sharing our bodies online (selfies, topless pictures, etc.). We talked about the stigma of porn, and how they were trying to fight that. We talked about their business model, about radical consent, about what they hope to achieve in changing their business.
The shoot itself was full of laughter and sexiness. There were trans bodies and cisgender bodies, queer bodies, young bodies, fat bodies, disabled bodies. We had discussed a scene that they could do together, settled on mythical creatures who met for a vibrator selling party, and decided to say fuck it and fuck. They became vampires, ghosts, narwhals and faeries. They had orgasms, or they didn't. A few of them tapped out half way through because it was too hot in the room. Upstairs, the roommates were quiet.
The audience around us were snuggly and kind. We giggled along with the performers, but kept quiet so we didn't pick up on the microphones. The camera was present, but turned away from us.
After the scene finished (it kind of naturally wound down after a half hour), we all joined in for a cool down circle. Did breathe work. Talked about feelings.
It was downright wholesome, the whole experience. I know this is not how all porn is. I have had friends who have been part of studio shoots that were less natural, more exploitive. But it did feel like Vanessa and her team were really trying to make all of this fun and consensual and wonderful. It had the feeling of community collective work that I've seen in other art organizations around town. A real sense of community.
My friend, who invited us, was blissed out and happy afterwards. We hugged, their naked body soft and kind. They were glowing.
I never thought I would talk about ethical porn here, but here we are. It felt in some ways like this work was more ethical than some jobs I have had. Where I've had to give up parts of myself to participate in the job. This did not feel like that at all.
"Everyone masturbates. Maybe we can help give folks something to masturbate to that is ethical and full of bodies like ours." Amen to that.
My work
It is Saturday. I am alone at home. Jade is working this morning, getting things ready for summer reading program. I slept in until 8:15. Unheard of.
Resetting my little writing area for my early morning practice. New notebook. Ordered some poetry anthologies. Decluttered an area I have neglected since I lost my job.
I have been writing as many and as high of quality poems consistently since January. But this half year has felt discombobulated. I feel like my soul was wounded in the lay off. So I want to get back into poetry as spiritual practice. This is how I pray.
Early morning.
Warm drink.
Paper.
Pen.
Poems written.
Unplugged.
Maybe quiet music.
Analog in the dark.
Lunch poems are also now a thing. I am going to find a quiet space to take my lunch, and write for a while every day at lunch. Not eat at my desk. This is not my life. It's ok for me to take refuge in words.
Finding a balance is going to be hard. But I'm going to try.
Poems
Corset
She's got the whole world in her hands
as she cinches tight ribbons and snaps,
corsets another woman for the first time.
Breath is life. Flesh is beauty. So much
of life is screens, panic, cosmic horrors
made out of control. Ribbons are soft
as a cheek or breast leaning against you.
Pull tight, let her feel her spine straighten,
her breath becoming her own. She knows
the power of a name, of pronouns dragged
out and demanded, knows loneliness while
trying to conform in our prison planet. She
is careful with the lipstick, traces trembling
lips forced quiet by pigment and joy. We are
bodies searching for bodies. This is how we win.
Community Care
She took me in, scraggle beard and all,
took a confused woman still in slacks
and shame and gave her permission.
So when the rare call buzzed her name
meant emergency, and I sprung towards
action and care: meeting is canceled,
screen left glowing with sensitive data,
office dogs scattered by my quick swoop
into the hallway, saying "what is wrong?"
"Come marry me! We need to get married
now!" My reputation eight years since I
cried on her sofa, shaved, put on the dress,
as a woman who gets things done, means
I know a gal, I know a venue, I know all
the workings of getting a preacher who will
marry girls like me to their gender chaotic
partners in a hurry when they need stability
of housing or family. "Let me make calls."
Being a girl is sex and crying, is learning
how to walk and talk again, is hiding all
the rage, is passing dollars around when
the catastrophe comes. A backyard, some
words, a gaggle of girls and daughters, and
I've done right by her, who gave me permission.
Outro
I hope you are enjoying these spring days. Be kind to yourselves. Be kind to your bodies. Know that I love you immensely.
Love and stuff,
Misha Lynn Moon