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Archive for the ‘Harlotography’ Category

Josie Arlington

Posted in Biography, Harlotography, History, tagged , , , , , , , , on February 8, 2011| 12 Comments »

Nowhere in this country will you find a more complete and thorough sporting house than the Arlington…Miss Arlington, after suffering a loss of many thousand dollars through a fire, has refurbished and remodeled the entire place at an enormous expense, and the mansion is now a palace fit for kings. –  Blue Book (Third Edition)

Mary Deubler was born in New Orleans to German immigrant parents on February 8th, 1864, and began working as a prostitute in 1881 under the name Josie Alton.  It is likely that the idea first came from her boyfriend Philip Lobrano, a useless man with whom she stayed until 1890 though they never actually married.  Josie was very attractive, intelligent and industrious and therefore had no trouble supporting Lobrano and several members of her family as well.  She was also, however, notoriously hot-tempered and never shied away from a fight with either customers or other whores, and when she opened her own brothel at 172 Customhouse Street in 1888 (under the name Josie Lobrano), the place soon became notorious for the feistiness of both its madam and the employees she attracted.

Since Josie was a shrewd businesswoman the brothel prospered, but the situation was too unstable to continue for long and on November 2, 1890 a free-for-all broke out which involved nearly everyone in the building.  In the ensuing melee Philip Lobrano shot Josie’s brother Peter, and though he was eventually acquitted she would have nothing more to do with him nor with anyone else who had a reputation for fighting.  Changing her name once again to that by which she is remembered, Josie Arlington, she fired her entire staff and vowed that from then on fighting would not be tolerated in her house; she further decided that only “refined gentlemen” who preferred “amiable foreign girls” would be welcome as customers.  She had apparently decided to operate the highest-class brothel in the entire country, and in the minds of many she eventually succeeded.

The Chateau Lobrano d’Arlington soon developed into the one of the most profitable and highly-respected brothels in the city, and though it is highly doubtful that as many of her girls were imported as she claimed, it is unquestionable that they were amiable; Josie had learned her lesson and immediately ejected anyone who caused trouble, whether employee or customer.  So when Storyville was established in 1898, she had plenty of money to build an opulent four-story, sixteen-bedroom mansion with an onion-domed cupola at 225 North Basin Street.  In keeping with her “foreign” theme this brothel, now called simply The Arlington, had a number of parlors decorated in various national styles including the Turkish Parlor, the Japanese Parlor, the Vienna Parlor and the American Parlor; it also had a Hall of Mirrors and several large dens, all lavishly decorated with paintings, hangings, statuary and furniture.  It was, as the Blue Book expressed it, “absolutely and unquestionably the most decorative and costly fitted-out sporting palace ever placed before the American public.”

Josie lived on the premises with her lover John T. Brady (whom she “took up with” soon after dumping Lobrano) and about a dozen girls at a time, although the number could be as high as twenty during Carnival season.  It was one of the most expensive houses, charging $5.00/hour at a time when the average American workman made 22¢/hour.  The Arlington also offered a live pornographic show called The Circus (I shall leave the details to your imaginations) and various specialties, but there was one common request of that time to which its madam refused to cater: defloration of virgins.  Brothels of the day charged $200 or more for a credible virgin, but Josie absolutely refused to participate in this disreputable trade and insisted that no girl ever had or ever would lose her virginity at The Arlington.  But despite this refusal (or perhaps, in part, because of it) the business was incredibly lucrative and within a few years she bought herself a $35,000 mansion on Esplanade Avenue and a country house and farm in Covington (north of Lake Pontchartrain).

Alas, nothing lasts forever; the Arlington was badly damaged in a fire in 1905 and the business temporarily moved to a set of rooms above a saloon owned by Josie’s friend Tom Anderson.  The building soon acquired the nickname “The Arlington Annex” as a result, and Anderson was so pleased by this he actually had the name painted on the front of the building.  Extensive renovations costing about $5000 were carried out and soon the Arlington was even more elegant than before, but Josie’s mind could not be so easily repaired; she had almost died in the fire, and in the years which followed she became increasingly reclusive and morbid.  She retired in 1909 to her mansion, leased the Arlington to Anna Casey and sold many of her other assets to Tom Anderson, then bought a large plot in the exclusive Metairie Cemetery and built an ornate tomb of red marble with elaborately engraved copper doors.  In front of the tomb stands a beautiful bronze statue of a young girl knocking at the door; she is said to represent a virgin being denied access to the interior of the Arlington.  The project was designed by the noted Albert Weiblen and cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $10,000.

For the next five years, Josie Arlington continued to decline mentally and physically; she became moody and quarrelsome, sinking into dementia in 1913 and dying on February 14th, 1914 – less than a week after her 50th birthday.  She was buried the next day, and though most of the madams in the District sent flowers the actual turnout at her funeral was very poor:  Tom Anderson, Josie’s common-law husband John Brady, her niece (and chief heir) Anna Deubler, regular client Judge Richard Otero and several representatives of the Sisters of Charity, a convent to which Josie had been generous.  A week later Brady and Anna Deubler were married, and though Josie’s father tried to contest her will the couple retained control of the entire estate.

But that isn’t quite the end of the story.  Soon after Josie’s funeral people began to report that sometimes after dark the tomb seemed to burst into flame, with tongues of ghostly, cold fire flickering across the red marble (some claimed it was due to reflection from a nearby traffic light but this could never be proven).  The site soon became a tourist attraction, and before long these visitors began to report an even more terrifying phenomenon:  the statue of the girl at the door sometimes vanished from her post and was said to walk about the cemetery.  Two gravediggers even claimed to have seen her in the act of leaving the tomb!  Naturally, the family was deeply upset and so they eventually had Josie’s remains moved to a different grave and sold the “haunted” tomb to the Morales family.  Though caretakers of the cemetery have been ordered not to point out the tomb to the curious any longer, it is not difficult to find and though no one has seen the phantom fire for at least seven decades there are still occasional claims that the bronze virgin continues her nocturnal wanderings to this day.

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Madame de Pompadour

Posted in Biography, Harlotography, History, tagged , , , , , , on December 29, 2010| 22 Comments »

After us, the deluge. I care not what happens when I am dead and gone. –  Madame de Pompadour

Jeanne Antoinette Poisson was born in Paris on December 29, 1721 to François and Madeleine Poisson.  As a child she was educated at the Ursuline convent in Poissy, but when she entered adolescence her mother took over her education with an eye toward fulfilling a prophecy pronounced by Madame le Bon that Jeanne, then eight, would one day win the heart of a king.  Accordingly, the beautiful, intelligent girl was educated as only courtesans tended to be in her day; she was taught to dance, sing, play the clavichord, paint, engrave and recite poetry and drama by heart.  This extremely expensive education was funded by a family friend (and Jeanne’s guardian while her father was in exile due to a financial scandal), the chief tax collector Le Normant de Tournehem, thus igniting rumors that he was actually the girl’s natural father.  Jeanne soon became an accomplished actress and singer, and at 19 entered into a marriage of convenience with her patron’s nephew, Charles-Guillaume Le Normant d’Étiolles, in order to gain access to the court where she could pursue her goal.  She had two children by her husband, a boy who died in infancy and a girl who was born in 1744 and died of peritonitis in 1754.

Jeanne, now Madame d’Étiolles, was very popular in fashionable Parisian circles and soon founded her own salon, which was attended by a number of the philosophes including Voltaire.  This accomplished exactly what it was intended to accomplish; King Louis XV heard of her and invited her to a royal fancy dress ball on February 25th, 1745.  Though the King was in disguise, Jeanne had been tipped off to which costume was his and made sure she caught his eye; her costume as a shepherdess neither covered her exquisite features nor concealed her bewitching hazel eyes, and no man could have failed to notice her.  They danced and then talked, and the King was smitten; he began to make overtures to her and she let him know that her favors were not to be had for free.  But when he asked her price, the wily young woman stated that the only fee she would accept was the position of royal mistress, vacant since the death of the king’s previous mistress (the Duchesse de Châteauroux) a few months before.  The bold gambit succeeded; the monarch was impressed with her confidence and charm and agreed to the arrangement.  By March she had moved into Versailles and was given an apartment directly below that of the King, and on May 7th, she was officially separated from her husband.

Portrait by François Boucher, 1750

Though Jeanne had captured the King’s heart as had been foretold, she could not yet be named official royal mistress because she was a commoner.  The King therefore purchased the marquisate of Pompadour on June 24th and gave the estate and title to Jeanne, thus making her a Marquise and granting her the name by which she is known to history:  Madame de Pompadour.  She was formally introduced to the court on September 14th and quickly mastered court etiquette, but could not cement her position quickly enough for her mother, who died on Christmas Eve, to see Jeanne defeat her enemies at court to become the undisputed royal mistress.  And she had plenty of enemies; some of them felt it was a disgrace for the King to have a common-born mistress (despite the title she had been granted), while others blamed her for the loss of France’s North American colonies following her defeat in the Seven Years War, which the King had entered as an ally of Austria on Madame Pompadour’s advice.  And of course there were lesser mistresses who challenged her position, though they could not match the Marquise’s quick wits; one such challenger, Marie-Louise O’Murphy de Boisfaily, was defeated by being married off to a provincial nobleman and thus removed from Paris!

Her charm and winning ways gained her far more friends than enemies, however; among these was the Queen, who had been avoided by previous mistresses.  The King deeply appreciated her respect for and deference to his wife, which eased his guilt and allowed him to have a strong relationship with his children without her interference.  She also exerted considerably effort to amuse the King and ease his many cares; she would accompany him on hunts and when he went visiting or touring his properties, she threw dinner parties for him and had plays written specifically to appeal to his tastes, with her as the female lead.  She even arranged orgies to stimulate his jaded sexual appetite, and frequently reminded him of her beauty by commissioning portraits of herself, mostly by Francois Boucher.

Portrait by Maurice de la Tour, 1755

Madame de Pompadour is best remembered today as a patron of the arts, science and literature; she sponsored many painters, sculptors, architects, furniture craftsmen, interior designers and writers, including Voltaire as mentioned earlier.  She supported the development of Diderot’s Encyclopedia (among the first such works), commissioned a topographical survey of France and even helped her brother Abel-François (who had by her influence become director-general of royal buildings) to design several public facilities.  She facilitated the development of Sèvres, which soon became one of the largest manufacturers of porcelain in Europe and provided many high-paying jobs to its district.  She exerted a strong influence over the development of the Rococo style, and advised the King on matters ranging from art to foreign policy.  She even corresponded with Maria Theresa, the Empress of Austria.  The pompadour hairstyle is named for her, as is the marquise style of diamond cutting, and according to legend the bowl of a champagne glass was modeled on the shape of her breast (though it is not very likely that this is true).

Unfortunately, the Madame’s body was neither as strong nor as active as her mind; vigorous sex tired her, and she suffered two miscarriages in 1746 and 1749, at which times she arranged lesser mistresses for the King while she was unable to tend to his needs during her convalescence.  Eventually the combination of her poor health and His Majesty’s roving eye caused him to replace her in his bed as of 1750, when she was only 29.  He was still quite fond of her and she continued to advise him throughout her remaining years; in fact the period of her greatest influence over him was the decade after they had ceased to sleep together.  Late in the winter of 1764 she was diagnosed with tuberculosis, and due to her fragile constitution succumbed to it in only two months; she died on April 15, 1764 at the age of forty-two.  As her coffin left Versailles in a downpour, the King was heard to say “The marquise won’t have good weather for her journey.”  Her old friend Voltaire wrote: “I am very sad at the death of Madame de Pompadour.  I was indebted to her and I mourn her out of gratitude.  It seems absurd that while an ancient pen-pusher, hardly able to walk, should still be alive, a beautiful woman, in the midst of a splendid career, should die at the age of forty.”  Even her enemies admired the brave manner in which she faced death (though of course they were also relieved at her departure), and nobody then or now could deny the powerful influence a courtesan of humble origin had exerted on French arts and letters.

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Mata Hari

Posted in Biography, Harlotography, History, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 11, 2010| 4 Comments »

I am a woman who enjoys herself very much; sometimes I lose, sometimes I win. –  Mata Hari

Today is Armistice Day, the ninety-second anniversary of the end of the First World War; in observance of this day, I would like to present a short biography of the most famous courtesan of the period (and indeed one of the most famous whores of all time), Mata Hari.  Though she was executed by the French for espionage on October 15th, 1917 and her name is practically synonymous with “female spy”, it is unlikely that she was guilty of the crime for which she was executed and may have been used as a scapegoat by the real culprit.

Margaretha Geertruida Zelle was born on August 7th, 1876, in Leeuwarden, Friesland, the eldest of four children of Adam and Antje Zelle.  Her father was quite wealthy, so she received an excellent education until she was 13, at which time her father went bankrupt and her parents divorced.  Her father remarried in 1893, but Margaretha did not get along with her stepmother and so went to live with her godfather.  She started studying to be a kindergarten teacher, but when the headmaster of her school began to flirt with her the outraged godfather removed her from the school.  This caused her to become estranged from him, so she went to live with an uncle instead.  Early in 1895 the 18-year-old girl answered a marriage advertisement placed by a Dutch Colonial Army officer named Rudolf MacLeod and moved with him to Java, then part of the Dutch East Indies.

Rudolph and Margaretha MacLeod, 1897

Her marriage was not a happy one; the first of her two children died at the age of two from congenital syphilis, and her much-older husband was a violent alcoholic who beat and otherwise mistreated her; as if that weren’t bad enough, he openly kept a second native wife and also a concubine.   Margaretha temporarily left him, moved in with another Dutch officer, and began studying Indonesian culture; she soon joined a local dance company, and at that time first assumed her stage name Mata Hari, Indonesian for “eye of the day” (i.e. the sun).  Her husband eventually talked her into coming back to him, but since he had not changed she continued to dance and to study Indonesian culture.  After they moved back to the Netherlands they separated in 1902 and divorced in 1906, with her husband retaining custody of their daughter.  Margaretha moved to Paris, where she joined the circus as a horse rider (under the name Lady MacLeod) and an artist’s model.  But since neither of these trades was very profitable she became an exotic dancer under her old stage name, Mata Hari.  By 1905 she was wildly popular and soon became the mistress of a millionaire industrialist named Emile Guimet; her publicity claimed that she was a Javanese princess who had practiced sacred Hindu dance since childhood.  She was photographed numerous times during this period, often nude, and some of these pictures were used by her husband in their divorce to argue that she was an unfit mother.

Whatever she may have felt about losing her daughter, she did not let it affect her performances, and her fame soon spread through western Europe; her dancing was sensual and erotic, and her act included what we would now call a striptease.  She rarely removed her bra, however, because she was self-conscious about being small-breasted.  It didn’t seem to bother anyone else; by 1910 she was the most highly-paid courtesan in Europe.  She moved in wealthy circles and her clientele included high-ranking military officers, politicians and noblemen of several countries (including the crown prince of Germany).  Her fame inspired an army of imitators and a number of enemies among jealous critics, who claimed she was nothing but an exhibitionist whose performances lacked artistic merit.  One of these snobs described her as “a dancer who does not know how to dance.”  At the height of her popularity she was able to laugh these people off, but in the climate of intrigue and paranoia which enveloped Europe in the months before the Great War began some of her enemies began to whisper that her seductiveness and free movement across international borders made her a security risk.

The Netherlands were neutral in the conflict, so Mata Hari continued to travel to visit her clients even as the war raged.  To avoid the battle zones she usually traveled through Spain or Britain, which attracted the attention of military intelligence agencies; once she was detained by British intelligence and admitted to working as a French agent, but the French denied her statement.  It is still unknown if the French merely lied to avoid offending their British allies, or if Mata Hari had merely made the story up to placate the officers who had detained her.  Then in January 1917, the German military attaché in Madrid sent a coded radio message to Berlin describing the activities of a German spy called H-21; when French intelligence intercepted the messages they identified H-21 as Mata Hari.  But since the message was sent in a code that the Germans knew had already been broken by the French, there is some suspicion that the message may have been meant to be intercepted.

On February 13th, 1917, she was arrested in her room at the Hotel Plaza Athénée in Paris and put on trial for espionage; she was accused of causing the deaths of at least 50,000 soldiers by the information she had passed on.  Unsurprisingly, she was found guilty and executed by firing squad on October 15th, 1917; she was 41.  Most modern biographers doubt she was ever a double-agent, though it is possible she may have been working as a spy for the French since she is known to have had a relationship with Georges Ladoux, the head of French counter-espionage, who was later found to be a double-agent himself and may therefore have arranged to frame Mata Hari so as to draw suspicion away from himself.  The final truth may be revealed in 7 years; the official case documents were sealed for 100 years, but in 1985 a biographer named Russell Howe managed to convince the French Minister of National Defense to open the file and he said that the documents within proved her innocent.  We will soon know if he was telling the truth when the file becomes public in October of 2017.

Mata Hari in 1910

There are a number of rumors about her execution; one is that she blew a kiss to her executioners or her lawyer (who was present), and another that her last words were “Harlot, yes, but traitor, never!”  She was not bound and refused a blindfold, facing death bravely and dying without a cry or a change of expression after she was shot.  Her body was not claimed by her family and so was used for medical study; her head was embalmed and kept in the Museum of Anatomy in Paris, but disappeared around 1954 when the collection was relocated.  The Frisian Museum in Leeuwarden, Netherlands has a “Mata Hari Room” containing a wealth of information on the courtesan and possible spy who was the town’s most famous native.  The romantic facts of her life and the cinematic end to her career have spawned a legend which dwarfs the real woman; she is practically the archetype of the femme fatale, and fictionalized versions of her have appeared in countless books, movies, television shows and even video games, the most famous of which was the 1931 movie Mata Hari, starring Greta Garbo.  This movie set the pattern which all other treatments were to follow:  Other than the name and a few important particulars, the life of the character in the movie bore very little resemblance to that of the real lady, and so it has continued to this day.  Which, IMHO, is a pity; I think her real life was more than interesting enough without Hollywood embellishment.

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Five Women in Whitechapel

Posted in Biography, Harlotography, History, The Dark Side, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 5, 2010| 11 Comments »

I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them till I do get buckled. –  From a letter to the Central News Agency of London,  postmarked September 27th, 1888 and signed “Yours truly, Jack the Ripper”

There has been enough written about the notorious serial killer known as “Jack the Ripper” to fill a small library, but as one might expect 99.99% of it dwells lovingly on the gruesome details of the murders or speculates (either methodically or wildly) on the identity of the killer; few of these (invariably male) “Ripperologists” seem remotely concerned with the women who were so brutally butchered.  Since October is a month for all things dark and creepy, and since this week marks the 122nd anniversary of the height of the Ripper hysteria in London, I have decided to give short (because so little is known of them) biographies of the five women whom most experts consider to be truly the work of the Ripper himself rather than a copycat or unrelated murderer.

Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols (née Walker; August 26th, 1845 – August 31st, 1888) was the daughter of Edward and Caroline Walker of Dean Street, London.  Her father was a locksmith and she married a printer’s machinist named William Nichols on January 16th, 1864, bearing him three sons and two daughters between 1866 and 1879.  Their marriage broke up in 1881 due to William’s infidelity and Polly’s drinking, and though he was required to pay her alimony of five shillings a week he cut it off in 1882 (as was allowed in those days) upon discovering that she was supplementing her meager income by working as a prostitute.

The “Dear Boss” letter, quoted at the top of this column

For the next six years Polly drifted as such women often do; she drank most of what she earned as a streetwalker and so could rarely maintain a residence for long.  She lived with her father for a year or so but left after arguing with him; she also lived with a blacksmith named Drew for a while, and spent the rest of the time in cheap boarding houses.  By the beginning of 1888 she was homeless, and after being caught sleeping in Trafalgar Square she was placed in the Lambeth workhouse.  She left the workhouse for a job as servant to Mr. and Mrs. Cowdry of Wandsworth, but that only lasted two months because her employers were teetotalers; when she left, she stole three pounds ten worth of Mrs. Cowdry’s clothing.  She returned to streetwalking, sharing a room at 18 Thrawl Street, Spitalfields with another hooker named Nelly Holland.

Polly was 5’2” tall, with brown eyes and dark brown hair beginning to grey; she was good-looking for a 43-year-old Victorian alcoholic streetwalker and had no trouble making money, but unfortunately tended to drink it all away.  On the night of her death she was turned out of the rooming house for the lack of her fourpence bed charge, though she had already earned three times that earlier in the evening.  So she returned to the street to earn another fee and was last seen alive by her roommate at 2:30 AM at the corner of Osborn Street and Whitechapel Road.  She was found dead just over an hour later in front of a stable on what is now Durward Street, just 150 yards from London Hospital.  She had been dead for only a few minutes; her throat had been slit twice and her abdomen mutilated with several jagged wounds from a sharp knife.

Annie Chapman (née Ann Eliza Smith, c. 1841 – September 8th, 1888) was the daughter of George and Ruth Smith of Paddington and married her maternal cousin John Chapman on May 1st, 1869.  John was a coachman and she bore him two daughters and a son between 1870 and 1880, but after the son was born crippled and their eldest daughter died of meningitis both John and Annie started drinking and they separated in 1884.  Her husband paid her alimony of 10 shillings a week, but this ended with his death from alcoholism at the end of 1886.  She subsequently became very depressed and started living in boarding houses, supporting herself by crochet work, flower selling and occasional prostitution.

Annie was 5’0” tall, with blue eyes and wavy dark brown hair.  At the time of her death she was living in Crossingham’s lodging house at 35 Dorset Street, Spitalfields; after a week of illness she ran out of money for her bed, so like Polly Nichols the week before returned to the streets to earn some.  She was last seen alive talking to a short, dark man behind 29 Hanbury Street about 5:30 AM by a Mrs. Elizabeth Long; half an hour later her body was discovered in the back yard by a resident of the house.  Her throat had been slit and abdomen mutilated by the same sort of blade which killed Polly Nichols.

Elizabeth “Long Liz” Stride (née Gustafsdotter, November 27th, 1843 –September 30th, 1888) was the daughter of a Swedish farmer, Gustaf Ericsson, and his wife Beata Carlsdotter, and was born near Gothenburg, Sweden.  After a few years in service she became a prostitute, then in 1866 moved to London and re-entered service.  On March 7th, 1869 she married a ship’s carpenter named John Thomas Stride and they opened a coffee room in Poplar, east London.  The two had a stormy relationship which ended permanently by the end of 1881, and Liz moved into a boarding house in Whitechapel.  By 1885 she was living at least part-time with a dockhand named Michael Kidney, earning some income from sewing, housecleaning and occasional prostitution.  Her relationship with Kidney was much like that with her husband, and a few days before her death she left him and moved into a boarding house at 32 Flower and Dean Street.

Liz was 5’2” tall, with grey eyes, curly dark brown hair and a pale complexion.  She was last seen alive with a man outside of a socialist club at 40 Berner Street about 12:30 AM and her body was discovered by the club’s steward about half an hour later; her throat was freshly slit and she had apparently been dead for just a few minutes, suggesting that the Ripper had been disturbed by the steward and fled without butchering Liz’s abdomen as he had those of his previous victims.

Catherine “Kate” Eddowes (April 14th, 1842 –September 30th, 1888) was one of eleven children of George and Catherine Eddowes of Graisley Green, Wolverhampton.  Her family moved to London when she was small, and when Kate was grown she became the common-law wife of Thomas Conway and by him had a girl and two boys.  By 1880 she started drinking heavily and abandoned her family; a year later she moved in with a man named John Kelly at Cooney’s boarding house, 55 Flower and Dean Street, Spitalfields.  It was at this time that she began occasionally prostituting herself to pay the rent.  Kate was 5’0” tall, with hazel eyes and dark auburn hair; she was an intelligent and even scholarly woman, but of highly variable mood and poor work habits even when she wasn’t drinking.

At 8:30 p.m. on Saturday, September 29th, Kate was arrested after being found lying drunk in Aldgate High Street, but by 1 AM had sobered up enough to be released.  She was last seen alive at 1:35 AM by three men who had just left a club on Duke Street; they said she was standing and talking with a man at the entrance to Church Passage.  Her body was discovered by a policeman ten minutes later in the corner of nearby Mitre Square; her throat had been cut, her face mutilated and her abdomen literally disemboweled.  Note that Kate Eddowes was killed less than an hour after Liz Stride; it seems likely that since he was disturbed before he could mutilate Stride, his bloodlust was unsated and he was therefore forced by his mania to seek another victim.

Odd personal note: From the very first time I saw her name in my early teens until the present day, I cannot read or hear the name of Catherine Eddowes without experiencing goose flesh and a pronounced chill up my spine; it is happening again now as I write these words.  I have no idea why this should be, nor why I experience the reaction only for Eddowes and not the other four.

Cartoon by John Tenniel by the September 22, 1888 issue of “Punch”, criticizing police incompetence in the Ripper case.

Mary Jane Kelly (c. 1863 –November 9th, 1888), the Ripper’s final victim, was much younger than his others and her origins are much more obscure.  She was a tall (5’7”), buxom, unusually pretty girl who apparently dyed her hair often or else wore wigs, and was fluent in Welsh.  She claimed to come from a large family and was married when she was about 16 to a coal miner named Davies, who was killed about 1881 in a mine explosion.  About a year later she started working as a prostitute in Cardiff, then went to London in 1884 and found work in a West End brothel.  Unfortunately, her pathological dishonesty and tendency to become belligerent when drunk soon resulted in the loss of that job and a subsequent descent into alternate periods of streetwalking and living with various men.

She was last seen alive and talking to a well-dressed man about 2:45 AM by a laborer named George Hutchinson; two of the other residents of Mary’s boarding house reported hearing a faint cry of “Murder!” about 4:00 AM, but neither reacted because such cries were common in the East End.  Then about 10:45 AM Mary’s landlord sent his assistant to collect her overdue rent, and when there was no response to his knock he let himself in and discovered the young woman’s mutilated remains on her bed.  Her throat had been slit and her body almost entirely dissected afterward, a process which the coroner estimated must have taken over two hours.

It should be obvious that none of these women were well-adjusted; all but Liz Stride were heavy drinkers, and none had the means to raise themselves from the squalid conditions into which they had fallen.  Few people cared about them when they were alive, and the only reason anyone even remembers them today is because of the gruesome way they died.  But they were real women, with families and friends and dreams and needs and fears like anyone else, and I think they deserve to be remembered as such rather than merely as incidents in the short, bloody career of a monster who has for over a century been granted the constant public attention he so obviously craved.

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The Yellow Rose of Texas

Posted in Biography, Harlotography, History, Music, Perception, tagged , , , , , , on September 10, 2010| 14 Comments »

There’s a yellow rose in Texas that I am a going to see
No other darky knows her, no one only me
She cryed so when I left her it like to broke my heart
And if I ever find her we nevermore will part
She’s the sweetest rose of color this darky ever knew
Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew
You may talk about dearest May and sing of Rosa Lee
But the yellow rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee. – Anonymous

The legend of Emily Morgan ties into so many of the topics we’ve discussed lately, such as Creole women, 19th century history of the American south, songs about sexy ladies and even “human trafficking”, that it’s been going around my mind for the past few days.  And even though Miss Morgan is not known to have ever officially espoused our profession, her demonstration of the way a woman can use her sexuality to achieve a desired goal directly contradicts the modern dogma that such a strategy is “inherently degrading and humiliating”, which makes her a woman whores can admire and her story a fit topic for this blog.  I use the word “legend” because most of the story’s details are derived from one original source and may have been embellished by tradition; indeed, some modern (male) historians claim that the story has no basis in historical fact at all, despite documentary evidence to the contrary.  And since the idea that whoring oneself can be a positive and even heroic action is not politically correct, modern historians have a strong motivation to make such revisionist claims (as we talked about in the commentary on my August 18th column); my readers will therefore forgive me if I tend to lean a bit on the lady’s side.

In 1830 James Morgan, a businessman from Philadelphia, emigrated to Texas in order to speculate on the cheap land and other business opportunities available in what was then a Mexican colony.  Since slavery was illegal under Mexican law, Morgan had his 16 slaves legally converted into indentured servants with 99-year contracts.  Morgan and the other American settlers soon conceived of an idea to flood Texas with American settlers so they could then declare independence from Mexico and become an American state; to further this plan he travelled to New York in 1835 to recruit colonists.  While on this trip he met a beautiful 20-year-old Creole woman named Emily West, possibly from Bermuda; Morgan described her as possessed of “extraordinary intelligence and sophistication.”  Though born free Emily accepted indenture in order to cover her expenses and avoid the difficulties deriving from racial prejudice, and so changed her last name to that of her master (as was the custom at that time).

By the beginning of 1836 Texas had declared independence from Mexico and the rebellion, led by General Sam Houston, was fully in progress.  James Morgan’s settlement, New Washington, was now fully established near the mouth of the San Jacinto River, and he donated oranges, produce and beef to Houston’s army; the grateful Houston therefore appointed him a colonel and assigned him to guard the Port of Galveston about 50 km away.  Morgan left his trusted servant Emily in charge of loading the flatboats which carried the donated provisions, and on April 18, 1836 she was captured when Mexican troops under the command of General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna (pictured above) occupied New Washington.  The General, who fancied himself a ladies’ man, was immediately taken by Emily’s beauty and so claimed her as one of the spoils of war along with the cattle and produce.  Rather than waste her energy in unproductive demonstrations of protest, the clever young woman decided to play on her captor’s colossal ego in order to gain advantage for the Texans.

Santa Anna had also captured a Creole boy named Turner and had talked him into leading the Mexican scouts to Houston’s camp, but before they left the next morning Emily convinced Turner to escape from the scouts en route and rush ahead to warn Houston of Santa Anna’s approach.  Upon hearing of the boy’s escape the general insisted on immediately setting up camp near the river, despite the protests of his officers that the spot was indefensible; Houston, upon learning of the army’s location from Turner, quietly moved his troops into the woods only a kilometer or two from the hasty Mexican encampment.  But Emily was not yet done leading Santa Anna around by the balls; she pretended to find him irresistible and thus diverted him from the preparations he should have been making.  On the morning of April 21, General Houston himself climbed a tree to spy into the Mexican camp and saw Emily preparing a champagne breakfast for Santa Anna; upon his return he told one of his officers, “I hope that slave girl makes him neglect his business and keeps him in bed all day.”  And she did exactly that; when the Texans attacked a few hours later the Mexicans were taken completely by surprise and Santa Anna was literally caught with his pants down.  He fled from the battle in his silk nightshirt, and when he was captured by Houston’s men the next day it was found concealed under the uniform he had pillaged from a dead Mexican soldier in order to disguise himself.

Emily made her way back to New Washington, and when James Morgan returned from Galveston a few days later Emily told him of the battle and her part in it.  He was so impressed with Emily’s heroism that he repealed her indenture and gave her money and a passport back to New York; she left Texas in March of 1837 and unfortunately disappeared from history thereafter.  But her former master refused to let her vanish into obscurity; for years afterward he told her story to anyone who would listen, and also recorded it in his journals.  One of his business partners in New York, Samuel Swartwout, repeated the story in one of his letters, and it also appears in the journal of his friend, the ethnologist William Bollaert (whom Wikipedia dismisses as an “English tourist”).  It was from Bollaert’s journal that the story was rediscovered in the 1950s and quickly spread into legend; Emily’s deeds are now commemorated at San Jacinto every April 21st by an organization called The Knights of the Yellow Rose of Texas.

But what does any of this have to do with the well-known song whose title this column shares?  Soon after the battle, copies of the poem which forms my epigram began to circulate around Texas; it appears to have been written by one who was either a black soldier in the conflict or using the narrative voice of such a soldier.  The poem expresses his love for a Creole woman (“yellow” was the adjective commonly used at the time to describe their skin color), and given its popularity it was perhaps inevitable that it quickly became associated with the story of the “yellow rose” named Emily Morgan.  Within a few years the poem had been set to music and turned into a song; by the 1860s its lyrics had been altered and extended, and it became a marching song for Confederate troops from Texas:

There’s a yellow rose in Texas that I am going to see,
No other soldier knows her, no soldier only me;
She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart,
And if I ever find her we never more will part.

(refrain) She’s the sweetest little flower this soldier ever knew,
Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew,
You may talk about your Dearest May, and sing of Rosa Lee,
But the yellow rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee.

Where the Rio Grande is flowing, and the starry skies are bright,
She walks along the river in the quiet summer night;
She thinks if I remember, when we parted long ago,
I promis’d to come back again, and not to leave her so.

(refrain)

Oh! now I’m going to find her, for my heart is full of woe,
And we’ll sing the song together, that we sung so long ago;
We’ll play the banjo gaily, and we’ll sing the songs of yore,
And the yellow rose of Texas shall be mine for evermore.

(refrain)

By 1955, when the Mitch Miller recording of the song made #1 in the US and #2 in the UK, its lyrics had altered still more, but neither the meaning nor the tune had altered for a century.  And despite the fact that the song probably had nothing to do with Emily West Morgan, its association with her is still very strong and serves to remind us that a woman’s sexuality, rather than being a source of shame and degradation at the hands of “patriarchal oppressors”, is actually her greatest source of influence over men and can therefore be both a powerful force for good and an effective way for a woman to improve her place in the world.

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The Empress Theodora

Posted in Biography, Harlotography, History, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on August 18, 2010| 18 Comments »

Justinian fell violently in love with her. At first, he kept her only as a mistress, though he raised her to patrician rank. Through him Theodora was immediately able to acquire an unholy power and exceedingly great riches. She seemed to him the sweetest thing in the world, and, like all lovers, he desired to please his charmer with every possible favor and requite her with all his wealth.  –  Procopius

Theodora (c. 500 – 548) was inarguably the most successful courtesan of all time, rising from humble beginnings in a theatrical family to become empress of the Byzantine Empire as the wife of Emperor Justinian I; like her husband, she was also canonized in the Eastern Orthodox Church.  If there has ever been another whore who became an empress in life and a saint after death, I’ve never heard of her.  Theodora was probably the most powerful woman in Byzantine history and among the most influential women in all of history, but like most great courtesans she was also the victim of character assassination by men who envied her status.

There is considerable disagreement among the ancient historians regarding her place of birth and family details, but everyone agrees that she was an actress and prostitute; most of the histories used in schools merely say “actress”, but the professions were indistinguishable at that time.  Indeed, some historians claim she worked in a brothel, though this is highly dubious because actresses were courtesans whose clients came from among the members of their audiences, while brothel girls were at that time either slaves or de facto slaves.  It is likely that this is simply libel intended to make her look bad, as were rumors of her voracious sexual appetite and multitudes of lovers; the myth of the wanton was already well-established by the 6th century, ensuring that male writers would assume any whore (even a retired courtesan) to be what we now call a nymphomaniac.

The Empress Theodora, from a contemporary mosaic

Eventually Theodora became the mistress of Hecebolus, governor of the city of Pentapolis, but later quarreled with him and left, working her way to Constantinople by way of Alexandria.  It was during this period that she became friends with a dancer named Macedonia, who was apparently regularly employed by Justinian (who was then commander of the eastern army); it appears that Macedonia was the one who first introduced Theodora to the future emperor, and he fell “violently in love with her”.  At first he could only keep her as his mistress due to a Byzantine law (similar to our modern “sex offender registration”) which, though it did not criminalize prostitution as in our modern “enlightened” countries, prohibited whores from ever marrying; Justinian therefore had to content himself with making his beloved fabulously wealthy and elevating her to the patrician class.  Eventually, however, he persuaded his senile uncle, the Emperor Justin, to make a new law allowing men (including those of high rank) to marry repentant whores.  This law was on solid legal ground since it was based on the established precedent that a slave could be restored to freedom and have his rights fully restored as though he had never been a slave; by the same logic a whore could have her rights restored by renouncing her trade and finding a man to marry her.  This, however, did not stop snobs and bluenoses from decrying the change in the law, especially after the death of Justinian when they were safe from possible imperial reprisals.

Soon after his marriage to Theodora in 527 Justinian was made co-emperor with Justin, and not long afterwards the old emperor died of a chronic illness, leaving Justinian as sole emperor and Theodora as empress.  They were a very popular couple; Justinian was a strong and respected leader and Theodora a very beautiful, charismatic and intelligent woman who was said to be “superior in intelligence to any man”.  Justinian was wise enough to recognize his wife’s talents, and rather than keep her as a mere consort he allowed her an active part in his decision making.  Though it was well-known that Theodora had been a courtesan, her charisma won the hearts of the people, the army and most of the officials, much to the chagrin of prudes who envied her success and immediately began spreading vicious rumors about her supposed infidelities and frequent abortions.  These lies do not seem to have affected her popularity either in life or in death, but can be found in a number of period histories (especially those of Procopius of Caesaria, who was at first a supporter of Justinian but later turned against him).

The law which officially de-stigmatized whores was only the first of many increases in women’s rights which Theodora convinced Justinian to enact.  In 528, rape law was expanded to cover lower-class women and slaves (who had previously been unprotected) and to mandate the death penalty for either rape or the kidnapping of any woman; this law even defined certain forms of seduction as a lesser (non-capital) form of rape, much like our modern “date rape” laws.  In that same year (the first of her reign) Theodora also personally acted to free brothel-whores from bondage by purchasing them at cost from the brothel-keepers, dissolving their contracts, and giving them a new dress and a small amount of money; later she banned such brothels altogether.  In 534 it was made illegal to force any woman (even a slave) into acting (and therefore prostitution) without her consent, and in 535 this law was expanded to prohibit underage prostitution even if the girl’s parents consented (which was not uncommon in the poorest families of that time).  Another law that year defined marriages as deriving from “mutual affection” and therefore illegalized the practice of new husbands divorcing brides whose parents had reneged on the promised dowry.  In 537 a law was enacted to allow actresses or prostitutes to renounce their occupation at will, regardless of previous contracts, and criminalized the practice of forcing women to sign such contracts.  Other laws increased the rights of women in divorce, child custody and property ownership and prohibited infanticide and the murder of adulterous wives.  And though Theodora died in 548, her views clearly had a lasting influence on Justinian because he continued to enact pro-woman laws even after her death; for example, in 559 he prohibited the imprisonment of women for debt (they were still required to repay) and established a separate women’s prison system (with nuns as guards) in order to prevent the systematic rape and ill-treatment of female prisoners.

“The Empress Theodora at the Colisseum” by Jean-Joseph Benjamin-Constant (c. 1875)

Theodora seems to have had mixed feelings about her former profession, though it is very difficult to tell because of the multitude of contradictory accounts.  Some pious writers claim that she outlawed prostitution altogether, though this seems more like an attempt to whitewash her reputation for Christians of later centuries than an objective analysis of her actual actions.  It is clear that she eventually created and generously endowed a convent called the Metanoia (Repentance), where ex-prostitutes could live as long as they wished; at first this was open only to the freed brothel-girls, but later to streetwalkers as well.  Procopius claims that Theodora actually rounded up all the streetwalkers and forced them into the Metanoia (much as later governments forced whores into the “Magdalene homes” described in my column of July 22nd); he further adds a lurid description of the fate of some of these girls: “…she confined them in the Convent of Repentance, as it is called, trying there to compel them to adopt a new manner of life.  And some of them threw themselves down from a height at night and thus escaped the unwelcome transformation.”  Other writers, however, describe no such confinement of unwilling streetwalkers despite the fact that such an action would certainly have met with the approval of the Church officials who later promoted Theodora to sainthood, so I think it’s safe to say that the story is simply more libel on Procopius’ part.

Justinian and Theodora enacted a host of other legal reforms far too extensive to detail herein; they built roads, hospitals and churches and expanded the power of the Eastern Roman Empire to its greatest extent since the fall of the Western Empire to Odoacer in 476.  In all these matters they presented a unified front, though in religious matters it was quite the opposite; Justinian was a devout Orthodox Christian, and Theodora an adherent of the Monophysite sect which taught that Jesus had only one nature rather than two.  Critics have argued that her support of a variant teaching undermined the unity of the Church, but others have pointed out that her policies actually delayed by centuries the conflict which eventually resulted in the Great Schism between the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches.  In any case, the contributions of both Justinian and Theodora were considered important enough to result in their eventual canonization by the Orthodox Church.

Theodora died of an illness (possibly breast cancer, but it is impossible to be certain) on June 28th, 548; she was not yet 50 and predeceased her husband by 17 years.  He was observed to weep bitterly at her funeral, and loved her so dearly that even after her death he not only continued legal reforms of which she would have approved, but also kept his word to her to protect the Monophysites and to attempt to reconcile their differences with the Orthodox Church.  The lasting influence of the courtesan empress is incalculable; her reforms gave Byzantine women rights that women in other European countries would not again enjoy until the 19th century, and indeed a few that women do not have even in Western societies today.  Considering that Theodora did not rise to her position in spite of her profession but rather because of it, the life and accomplishments of this amazing woman represent a shining and powerful refutation of the dogma that whores are intrinsically maladjusted, exploited and degraded.

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Phryne

Posted in Biography, Harlotography, History, Tyranny, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 31, 2010| 47 Comments »

Come yourself to me, and in this enclosure we will fall into each other’s arms. –  Phryne

I mentioned in yesterday’s column that one of my heroines was Phryne (390-330 BCE), the hetaera of classical Athens, whom I first read about in the paperback version of The Book of Lists when I was 13 or 14.  Though it is not difficult to find information on this great lady online, I felt it only right to compose my own tribute to the woman who was one of my earliest examples of the truth that degradation is something jealous people try to impose on whores rather than something intrinsic to our profession.

Any discussion of Phryne herself is pointless without a brief introduction to the world in which she lived.  By the 4th century BCE the ancient tradition of sacred prostitution was a mere shadow of its former self; the practical Greeks had largely replaced the whore-priestesses with exceptionally beautiful slave-girls given to the temples as offerings, and though these sacred harlots were honored as representatives of Aphrodite they were still technically slaves.  Though religion remained very important to the Greeks it was no longer the all-encompassing institution it had previously been, especially in progressive Athens;  the old aristocrats had fallen out of power, and the temples were increasingly under state control.  This was due to the birth of democracy, which was quickly followed by that of her bastard child the professional politician; then, as now, power-hungry individuals were willing to do anything to increase their personal power.

“Phryne at the Festival of Poseidon in Eleusin” by Henryk Siemiradzki (1889)

One of these early politicians was Solon (638-558 BCE), whom nearly a hundred generations of male historians have lauded as wise and credited with helping to usher in the Golden Age of Athens.  Female students of history are not so quick to praise him, however; Solon established a set of laws intended to curtail the relatively high status of women in Greek society, thus making a lie of Athenian talk of “freedom” and “democracy”.  Athenian wives were denied education and public life; like women in modern Islamic countries, they were segregated to their own quarters in Athenian homes and not permitted to go out except to religious ceremonies, and even then they were closely guarded by male family members.  They were not even allowed to do their own shopping; this task was performed by slaves.  Wives and daughters were condemned to toil and drudgery, discouraged from speaking and handed down as chattel from their fathers to their husbands to their sons.

Given this grim regime, it is certainly no wonder that many women rebelled, as illustrated in this passage from Geoffrey Grigson’s The Goddess of Love:

A girl disenchanted with spinning and weaving and all the chores which withered and wasted the flower of a girl’s life, made a bonfire of her gear outside the door of her house and chose garlands and music and the sweet life instead; she became a courtesan and in her new career naturally called on Aphrodite: “Cyprian, you shall have ten per cent of all I earn,/Just find me work, and you shall have your cut.”

This is still true of many whores today, but for “spinning and weaving” substitute “office work and the rat race.”  It should come as no surprise, then, that many of us still worship an aspect of Aphrodite.

But Solon was not to be so easily foiled; he responded to the explosion in secular prostitution by establishing state brothels staffed with (mostly Asian) slave girls captured in war or purchased on the open market.  Solon set a very low price (one obol, equivalent to ferry fare or the cost of three liters of cheap wine) on these girls so as to drive down the market value on the services of independent whores, and the lives of these poor captives was even more wretched than that of the Athenian wife; they were confined to cramped cells and saw no profit from the Aphrodite-only-knows how many low-class men they were required to service each day.  It was no doubt because of these horrific conditions that wealthier men still preferred to hire streetwalkers, so they continued to thrive despite competition from the public brothels; Solon responded to this by outlawing streetwalking, so the girls were forced to bribe the police with money and sexual favors in order to avoid arrest.  These Ancient Greek cops, like those of 18th century France, were therefore the forerunners of pimps as I discussed in my column of July 27th.

After Solon’s death persecution of streetwalkers declined, and in many other Greek city-states there never were any such laws.  And so conditions were ripe for the rise of the hetaerae (courtesans), the very first call girls.  They were independent, educated and shrewd, and many of them became fabulously wealthy.  Alone among Greek women they belonged to no one and could even own property for themselves; they went about in public as they pleased, even attending the theater and other venues forbidden to “virtuous” women.  Some of them even retired by establishing gynoecia, schools for the education of young courtesans.  The services of the hetaerae were even sought by kings, philosophers and poets; one of them, Aspasia, was the mistress of Solon’s later successor Pericles (495-429 BCE).  This, then, was the world in which Phryne lived.

The Colonna Venus, a Roman copy of the Aphrodite of Cnidus

She was born Mnesarete in the city of Thespiae in Boetia; Phryne (meaning “toad”) was her stage name and referred to the fact that she had a yellowish complexion.  This does not appear to have detracted from her beauty, however, which was so great that she became the model for several contemporary paintings and sculpture, including a statue of Aphrodite by her client Praxiteles.  This statue was purchased by the city of Cnidus after the city of Cos (who had originally commissioned it) objected to its being nude, and became such a popular tourist attraction that the city was able to pay off its entire debt.

Phryne’s beauty did not only make money for others, however; she became so fabulously wealthy that she even offered to rebuild the walls of Thebes after they were destroyed by Alexander the Great in 336 BCE,  on the condition that the words “destroyed by Alexander, restored by Phryne the courtesan” be inscribed upon them.  The prudish government of Thebes refused her, just as the modern government of Nevada refuses to tax brothels on the grounds that it would “legitimize” them.  Though her regular price was high, she adjusted it depending on how she felt about the client; since she considered the King of Lydia to be a tyrant she charged him a ridiculous price (which he paid and then recovered by a special tax on his subjects), but she gave herself to the philosopher Diogenes free of charge because she admired his mind.  And when the Athenian leader Demosthenes offered her a sum equal to the annual salary of a regular workman, she turned him down cold; this may have been a contributing factor to her legal troubles described below.

Eventually, she became such a celebrity that she went about veiled so that only those who paid could look upon her; however, at the festival of Poseidon in Eleusis, she stripped completely and waded into the sea in full view of everyone as an offering to the god.  The event impressed the spectators so that it inspired several works of art, including the Aphrodite Anadyomene of Apelles.  The politicians, however, were impressed in a different way; they were jealous of her power, wealth and popularity and so used the occasion as an excuse to arraign her on the trumped-up charge of “profaning” the festival by her offering.  In those days, blasphemy was a very serious charge; if convicted, she would have been executed.  She was defended by the renowned lawyer Hypereides, who was one of her clients, but despite his skill Phryne appeared doomed by the prejudice of the court; after all, she was independent, proud, educated, outspoken, powerful and wealthy, the diametric opposite of everything a “virtuous” Athenian woman was supposed to be.  As a last effort, Hypereides tore off her gown to display her naked body to the judges, crying ““How could a festival in honor of the gods be desecrated by beauty which they themselves bestowed?”  The desperate gambit succeeded; the Ancient Greeks viewed physical beauty as a gift of Aphrodite, and Phryne’s figure was so perfect the judges had no choice but to accept it as a sign of divine favor.  Since they dared not risk incurring the anger of the love goddess, the judges were forced to acquit the famous courtesan, but they were so unhappy about their failure to make an example of her that the “nudity defense” was henceforth specifically banned in Athenian courts.

“Phryne Before the Areopagus” by Jean-Leon Gerome (1861)

Contrary to what some male historians would like to believe, the hetaerae did not regard each other as rivals but as a sisterhood, as evidenced by this excerpt from a letter of thanks written to Hypereides by the hetaera Bacchis soon after Phryne’s acquittal:  “We courtesans are grateful to you, and each one of us is just as grateful as Phryne.  The suit, to be sure…involved Phryne alone, but it meant danger for us all, for…if we…face prosecution for impiety, it’s better for us to have done with this way of living…you have not merely saved a good mistress for yourself, but have put the rest of us in a mood to reward you on her account.”  History does not record whether the ladies rewarded him in the manner implied, but he and others like him soon had many cases, for the Athenian government and those of other city-states (under Theban and later Macedonian domination) began to prosecute the hetaerae more maliciously and much more often, forcing them to form some of the earliest recorded corporations in order to keep experienced defense lawyers on permanent retainer.  Less than a decade after Phryne’s death the Golden Age of Greece gave way to the Hellenistic Era, and courtesans did not again have it so good until the height of the Roman Empire over 300 years later.

Yet Phryne’s story survived the ages, and her legendary beauty has continued to inspire not only visual artists but also literary ones:  Baudelaire wrote two poems about her, the composer Saint-Saëns wrote an opera about her (Phryne, 1893), and several modern writers have penned novels about her.  And I’m certainly not the only modern whore who feels a strong sense of sisterhood and connection to her; like her, we know what it is like to be vilified by “moral” women who lack the strength and imagination to live as we do, and persecuted by powerful men who employ our services, then offer us up as sacrificial lambs whenever it’s politically expedient to do so.

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