Rock Lobster, Real Pride: Your Girl at NYC’s First Sex Worker Pride Day 🦞🌹This post originally appeared on ivysociete.cyou
Down! Down! Down! That’s me on the F train heading downtown, 40Gs straining against my vintage Westwood blazer, black sheep plushie tucked in my tote like a tiny horny mascot, heading to the FIRST Sex Worker Pride Day here in New York City. Y’all, I almost cried on the platform. Almost messed up my liner. Almost.
If you know me, you know I’m a 46-year-old Harlem-born bimbo fuckdoll, full-service sweetheart, professional slut and proud of it. I’ve been at this work long enough to remember when “sex worker” was a whisper and decriminalization was a fantasy we only talked about at 3 AM in somebody’s kitchen after a shift. And now? Now we’ve got a whole PRIDE DAY. In MY city.
The B-52’s said it best: let’s rock! Let’s rock indeed, babies.There’s a lyric in “Rock Lobster” where everybody’s moving and screaming and the party just keeps going even though there’s a literal sea creature on the scene. That’s us, isn’t it? They’ve called us lobsters, crabs, whatever bottom-feeder insult fits that day, and we keep dancing anyway. We keep LIVING anyway. I danced with dommes and dolls, street-based sisters and OnlyFans creators, massage workers and mama bears like me. Motion in the ocean, honey. Motion in the ocean.
ere’s what I want you to take from this: pride isn’t just a party. It’s a demand. Decrim now. End SESTA/FOSTA harm. Listen to workers, especially Black and trans workers, when we tell you what we actually need.To my fellow workers reading this on Ivy Société: you are the rock AND the lobster. Beautiful, weird, resilient, and nobody’s catch.Let’s rock! 🦞🖤Madeleine Rose, your nerdy NYC slut, signing off with love and lube.
