Milk Makers and Money Shakers: Grace
Demystifying the Sex Worker Mommy
Name: Grace
Sexy Occupation: I was primarily a Dominatrix, but also participated in other forms of sex work, including modeling and street-level work
How long have you been a sex worker? About 6 years
Children’s ages: R.E., age 3. I was also a log-time nanny for two children (R, age 13 and M, age 9) and their mother knew about and supported my work as a pro-Domme, even watching my child for me when I had sessions.
All About Grace, the woman:
My name is Grace and I am a sex worker. I am also a feminist, which, to me, boils down to one word: choice. I make decisions about my life. I choose my job, my work, how I look, what I wear and what I do or don’t do with my body. Some days, this means I dress up in slinky outfits and beat people for money, or wear nothing at all and pose for cameras. Some days it means I stay home in sweats and a ratty t-shirt and bake cookies with my kiddo. But whatever it is, it is my choice. I recognize and respect that everyone may not agree with the choices I make, just as I may not agree with the choices they make. But the choices are my own, and no one has the right to shame me for my choices or pressure me into making different choices.
My life is nothing like I thought it would be, but that’s okay. In some ways, it is better, although it is certainly a lot busier.
As a single mama, I don’t get much time to myself, but when I do, I do all the indulgent and naughty things I cannot do with a three-year-old tugging at my clothing. I put on a movie (that is rated above PG); order Thai food (and I share not a bite of it); relax in a hot bath with some bubbles, scented candles and the two men I am currently in a committed, long term relationship with (their names are Ben and Jerry, maybe you have heard of them?); and, if I am feeling really adventurous, I put on some of my favorite porn and have some “personal” time.
All about Grace, the mom:
I always wanted to be a mother, but I always envisioned having a career, a partner and a home before a child came into the picture. This all changed on September 7, 2007. I was on a car date when my John decided he was going to ignore the boundaries I had clearly laid out and ignore my clearly stated “no”. He raped me. Several weeks later, I took an early pregnancy test. Actually, I took about 4, because I didn’t want to believe the first. I was pregnant. And the only person the sperm could have come from was the John. After a long, grueling decision-making process, I decided to not only carry the pregnancy, but to parent the child.
I have never once regretted my decision. I love my kiddo – I tell people he is the best and most perfect thing I have ever done with my life and I mean it with every ounce of my being. It helps that he is a laid-back, loving child (though he is stubborn as hell), which meshes beautifully with the style of parenting I always wanted to practice. I like to call myself a natural or attachment-style parent. We practice co-sleeping, co-bathing, extended breastfeeding, baby-wearing, and all that other natural, crunchy, hippy crap. I let him learn through doing and experience natural consequences. The best advice I received when pregnant was to trust him, and trust myself, and I try to live that advice.
All about Grace, the sex worker:
As a Dominatrix, I really cannot pick just one “favorite” sex toy. Each person I see is different, with different kinks and different things they enjoy. I love the versatility of rope (and specialize in shibari), but also really enjoy impact play. I absolutely adore clients that come in and tell me to “do what pleases me” or the ones that come in with a kink that I have to get creative to fulfill. I love pushing myself and my clients and personally enjoy harder, rougher play.
Grace as a mother and a sex worker:
I have zero regrets about being a sex worker, a mother, and a combination of the two, although some people would definitely condemn me for having the two jobs at the same time. I feel like in our society, there are two things a woman can be – the Madonna or the whore. And the two should never intersect, meet or even wave at each other in passing. Before motherhood, society demands that you be as appealing to the eye as possible – don’t you dare leave the house without makeup and a perfectly matching outfit that is revealing, but not too slutty, you whore. But once that baby pops out, society magically expects you to be Mother Mary – chaste, pure, and self-sacrificing.
To hell with that. I love my job. I love sex. I love being a parent. I love my child. I say it loudly and proudly and see no contradiction in those statements.
There are definitely drawbacks – the biggest, of course, being the fear of having my child taken from me should I ever be arrested on the job. After I had my child, I actually stopped doing street work because I was – and am – terrified of having my child taken from me. I stuck to the “legal” stuff – cam modeling, Domme work, etc.
And the judgment. Oh, the judgment. I have been very lucky in that most people in my life know of my profession and completely support me. However, my mother is another story. She is vehemently against sex work and sex workers and misses no opportunity to tell me how just how wrong and sick and perverted I am. It used to bother me until I realized that every time she condemned me, she was passing on a little of her misery and hate to me. And by getting upset and angry, I was becoming more and more like her – bitter, angry, hurtful. I don’t want to be like that. The world has enough misery and negativity
Funny stories? Actually, I have a couple.
I am staff for a major kink convention. In 2008, it was held a week before I was due. The person who runs it begged and begged me not to go into labor until after the convention was over. Guess who went into labor the night I got to the hotel to help with the prep work? The next year, I brought him to the hotel for a few hours so people could meet him and the other staff members surprised him (and me!) with a miniature birthday party and his very own staff shirt.
The second was when my kiddo had first started to crawl, he found a crop (luckily it was one that had never been used) and decided to use it as a chew toy before chasing the cat around the apartment and, eventually, trying to hit her with it. Suppose the Dominant gene got passed on.
Grace. Thank you for sharing. You sound like an amazing woman. It's so very hard to rise above a person's personal issues ... and it sounds like you have done that with wit and style. You how that in your comments about your mother as well as your raising your amazing kiddo. He is lucky to have you as a mom.
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