This is what I was Wearing When I was called a Harlot: 2014 Edition

Last Saturday, I went clinic escorting, as I often do. It was an *interesting* morning, especially since it was the day before Mother’s day. You have not lived until you’ve seen grown men screaming “Mommy, Mommy, I want to wish you a happy mother’s day, but you’re going to kill me.”

Severus Snape newspaper, alan rickman, flipping newspaper down

I’d just finished walking a client in, when one of the regular anti-choicers started yelling at me.

Anti-choicer: “All you care about is money!” (this is because most of the antis are convinced we’re being paid, which LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL) “Plus, you’re a feminist! You hate men!”

Anti-choicer: *starts to walk away*

Anti-choicer: “And look at what you’re wearing!”

Me: *looks down at my clothes*

Me: “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

At this point, I genuinely thought she just didn’t like my fashion sense, which: fair enough. Not everyone grooves to the black-grey theme.

Fellow escort: “Don’t listen to her. You look adorable.”

This, apparently, was too much for the anti-choicer to handle.

Anti-choicer: “You’re dressed like a HARLOT.”

Me: “…”

Me: *bursts out laughing*

Anti-choicer: “Like a SLUT.”

Me: *starts crying with laughter*

Other escorts: “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Me: *walks away before I fall on the ground from laughing*

I COULD NOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP IF I TRIED. 

Now, I will admit, I was not wearing my usual clinic escort garb, so maybe I deserved it. Winter had finally let up in NYC. I didn’t need to wear approximately a billion layers to survive the cold.

Instead, I wore more provocative garb:

STRUMPETTTTTT!

STRUMPETTTTTT!

I know, I’ve shocked you.

MAKING IT WORSE: you have to imagine that instead of the red coat, I’m wearing an oversized white lab-coat that basically hits the bottom of my skirt. That enhances the sluttiness of the outfit even more.

Holy Shit GIF

In retrospect, I don’t even know how the anti-choicers managed to stick around the whole four hours while in the presence of so much harlot-ness.

Let’s get a close-up on the cleavage:

Photo on 5-13-14 at 9.16 PM

IT IS PRETTY CLEAR FROM THIS PICTURE THAT I HAVE BREASTS.

Brooklyn 99, Rosa Diaz, boyle, NOOOOOOOOOO, GIF

 

Brooklyn 99, Rosa Diaz, Boyle, Diaz, NOOOOOOOOO, GIF

 

Rosa Diaz, Brooklyn 99, Boyle, Diaz, NOOOOOOOO, GIF,

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT.

***

All jokes aside, it’s never appropriate to call anyone a slut. Ever. Full stop. Whatever they’re wearing (or not wearing!) It’s not appropriate to call someone a harlot either.

…Although I have to admit, until this Saturday, being called a harlot was not something I worried about very much. Except on the off-chance that I went on a wacky time-traveling adventure and was dropped off in Tudor England.

Still, I do think it’s worth it to realize just how extreme this particular anti was. You can see my knees and my collarbone. This is an outfit that would pass muster in most catholic churches. If I’m a slut and a harlot, how does this anti see most women in NYC? For a group of people who claim they “love women,” I’m not seeing much basic respect.

***

I had two more equally hilarious interactions with this anti-choicer.

One: I pass by her a few minutes later, still tickled by my newfound identity as the Harlot of Deathscorts.

Me: “Hey, if I hate all men, why do I dress like a slut? Shouldn’t I be trying to avoid their attentions?”

Her: “You just don’t know any better.”

Me: *chokes on my own spit*
Me: *beats a hasty retreat before I laugh in her face*

Two: One of my fellow escorts comes to see me, cackling.

Escort: “So, the Anti? She came up to us after you left, and said “You know, I really shouldn’t have called her a slut. I’m here to preach the gospel, and not to be judgmental.””

Me: “Oh, wow.”

Escort: “So, we were like:  “Well, why don’t you apologize to her instead of talking to us?” And you know what she said?”

Me: *braces self*

Escort: “She was like “Oh, well, I’m not saying she’s NOT a slut, I’m just saying I shouldn’t have CALLED her one.”

Me: *starts crying of laughter*
Me: *tries to breath, fails*

Escort: “Are you okay? ‘

Me: “Can’t breathe.”
Me: “Too slutty.”
Me: *dies*

Chris, I'm dead, Chris Traegar, Parks and Recreation, Parks and Rec

I am writing from beyond the grave with this important message:

Kids, never let anyone tell you that reproductive justice isn’t fucking hilarious.

***

p.s: In a show of solidarity, every escort decided to wear a skirt next week. Because my fellow escorts are fucking awesome.
We’re hoping for a “trollop” next week. Maybe “strumpet.” Let’s not get our hopes up, though.

p.p.s: I did have another proud moment at the clinic today when I recommended Dragon Age: Origins to the entire pro-life nation (or whatever small segment of pro-life creepers watch videos of escorts) . We were being filmed by the pastor all morning, and at some point, I just decided to make random recommendations to the camera every time I passed him. Because the way I figure, if you’re an anti-choicer sifting through thirty hours of watching bored people waiting around, you might want occasional recommendations! It’s lively and fun!

So I started with Dragon Age: Origins. The pastor did not really appreciate my recommendations (I also recommended Crest as the best dental brand), and asked me two times what the relevance was.

“Seriously?”

 

DRAGON AGE ORIGINS DOES NOT NEED TO BE RELEVANT.

Geeky Harlot of the Deathscort Squad, that’s me!

***

(For a more serious description of my escorting experiences, see this post.)

 


On Clinic Escorting

As some of you might know, for the last five months,  I’ve been volunteering as a clinic escort for an abortion clinic. I live in New York City, a very blue part of a very blue state. You’d think this would be an easy gig.

It’s been… interesting! And by interesting I mean “hair-raising.”

I’ve been planning to write a post on my experiences since the first time I escorted. A month ago, I gathered up allll of my courage, and asked Melissa McEwan, one of my personal heroes, if she’d be interested in running the piece on Shakesville.

She was.

*freaks out for a five minutes*

So, if you’d like to read about my experiences volunteering as a clinic escort, you should go over to Shakesville and read the piece: The Truth About Buffer Zones and the Harassers Who Hate Them. 

***
As a side note: I’m currently fundraising (alongside my fellow escorts) for the New York Abortion Access Fund through the National Abortion Access Bowl-A-Thon (whew, that’s a mouthful). Unfortunately, protesters aren’t the only deterrent to abortion access. Abortions are expensive, and are rarely covered by private insurances. A first trimester abortion costs upwards of $500, and anything beyond that can get up in the thousands.

So if you can, please consider donating to me/my team. Or donating to a local-to-you team (you can search the events to find teams in your area). If you donate to a local-to-you team, it would make me super-happy to know about it – leave me a comment, maybe? I will obviously know if you donate to my fund directly!

Thanks, everyone.