the prostitute

I am seventeen when I find myself at a job interview in a brothel.

As I ascend the dilapidated stairs in a mostly vacated building, I am however rather oblivious to the fact that it is indeed a brothel. I check the suite number before entering a sparsely furnished room. The atmosphere is odd. After a moment, I ring the little bell on the front desk and a middle-aged woman comes out to meet me. She seems both perplexed and curious as she looks me up and down in my semi formal office attire.

I tell her that I’m here for the “receptionist” job.

The woman looks puzzled and in all honesty, a little amused. She asks me to wait while she pops out the back to liaise with someone. Within a minute she returns and declares unapologetically that there is in fact no receptionist job.

The blood rushes to my face as I mentally swear my head off at her and this weird establishment. I have wasted my time, hopes and fuel money on getting here.

However, she continues, we are running interviews for another job and could I be interested in that? Well-paid, flexible hours, creative and fun. I’d kind of be my own boss.

My interest is piqued and I agree to discuss it further. To date, the jobs I’d had involved endless filing, binding, and mail-runs; begrudgingly smiling through my teeth at every shitty task I was assigned. So I follow her down a corridor of dirty-white walls and closed-door rooms until she ushers me into the end room with another lady. She introduces us and leaves. The woman on the other side of the desk sucks on a cigarette, being careful she blows the smoke out the window. She smiles at me. I like her energy. She feels like a cool aunty to whom I’d disclose all my secrets in a heartbeat.

I notice a rack of interesting clothes in the corner of the room. Are they costumes? lingerie? uniforms? I can’t quite tell. I’m still trying to establish what this business is, but for some reason, I now feel like I’m beyond the point of actually asking.

She notices me eyeing the clothes rack. Here, she says, you can be anyone you want. In these rooms – you leave your past, your present + your situation behind. When you step into a new outfit, you will become someone else entirely. Who do you want to be? Someone confident, powerful, sexy, wealthy and strong? You can be that + more. Give yourself a name. Give yourself an age. Choose your story here.

I am seventeen, but I am not dumb. It finally dawns on me that I am currently in the throes of being interviewed as a prostitute. And considering that I’m dressed in a pin striped suit with a CV tucked under my arm, I’m guessing that this is possibly the most “formal” interview they’ve conducted within the walls of this establishment.

I am not sure how I feel about this. Though I do surprise myself by not storming out in disgust. Instead, I let her continue. I admit to myself that so far in my short career, it’s the most appealing job description I’ve come across. And I like the way she talks to me.

I lean in a little closer as she discloses the ‘hourly rate’. I ask her to repeat it – maybe I’ve not quite heard correctly. My jaw drops a little. If before, I was listening in amusement and intrigue at the job description, now I am imagining - no considering - what my life might be if I was to say yes. I have glimpses of myself rolling around on a hotel room bed covered in hundred dollar notes….

At seventeen, I already know the world is not an easy place. I am rebellious + naïve enough to sometimes shit-where-I-eat, though tenacious + savvy enough to realise that sometimes I must eat-shit in order to survive. No invisible hand comes down from the clouds to help pay my rent or send me to university to get some quals under my belt. But here I was, sitting across from someone who told me that within months I could have enough money for a house deposit.

If this wasn’t an opportunity, then what in the hell was?

I sit on the swivel chair, gazing at the paint peeling from the corner of the ceiling, contemplating. What WAS I prepared to do for financial comfort? I currently had $6.77 in my bank account. I had borrowed fuel money to drive here.

As I consider accepting her proposal, feelings of disgust arise at my very core. And when I consider declining the job, feelings of desperation arise at the very same place.

I don’t want to decline to her offer. In fact, if I am honest, I lean into the idea of pretending to be someone else in exchange for a LOT of cash. I take her business card and promise to call her.

The thing is, I know nothing of money, power, sex and security. But will I be better educated on these things outside the walls of these rooms? What could society + culture really teach me that I could not discover here for myself? Would the world outside of this building nurture me, treasure me + help me thrive, regardless of my class, gender + bank balance?

The questions hang, suspended + without response.

And so, in my cheap pin stripe suit and $6.77 in my savings account, I descend the stairs out into the day...

~~~

The Prostitute is a beautiful ally - a gutsy bitch with the integrity of an angel...sometimes. She holds up a mirror to show us who we truly are and what we truly desire. She is the great illuminator of our waxing + waning faith.

In her seductive, titillating voice, the Prostitute asks us... “what are you willing to sacrifice + at what cost?”.

Sit with it. The answer may surprise you.

The Prostitute archetype illuminates our values + fears around survival and security. This archetype directs us towards our integrity; showing us how we are conditioned, where we “play nice” to get something we want and the parts of us that are "up for sale".

And, depending on how we use the energy of The Prostitute, she can either make sweet love to us; leaving us a quivering pile of orgasmic bones on the bedroom floor, OR she will "fuck us" completely.

Though lets be clear: prostitution is not just limited to sex. Archetypically, prostitution is about debasement, disempowerment and the "giving away" of a sacred part of ourselves that at our very core feels wrong. We prostitute ourselves politically, morally, physically and otherwise.

However, the archetype of the prostitute also plays an important part in our lives. For those of us who lacked privilege + opportunity in a world which glorifies such things, we learned to be cunning. We made decisions that caught us up to the rest of the fat cats. We whored parts of ourselves so that we could taste the delights that were kept on the other side of the fence. We broke out of our rough neighbourhoods + government housing and learned how others were doing life. Sometimes it worked, sometimes we fell on our face. But the Prostitute showed us where we were tenacious, determined, tough + resourceful.

The shadow of the Prostitute is acting unethically to gain what we want. Pulling strings. Manipulation. Using others as stepping stones to get ahead. Lying and more importantly lying to ourselves.

The Prostitute (as Caroline Myss describes it), is the "Guardian of Faith".

Sounds religious. Isn't.

The idea is that where our faith is strong + unwavering, we cannot ever be tempted to "sell out". And so my friend, the antidote or balm to the Prostitute's shadow is FAITH.

But lets get real here. Living our lives"in faith" sounds scary as shit right? A real leap into the abyss. Sure, we may have morals + integrity but lets face it, we are currently navigating our way through a rather capitalistic, narcissistic money-oil-coal-power-sex fuelled world that sometimes appear to have little regard for moral wellbeing (hello patriarchy) and so "having faith" is pretty much the biggest fucken gamble one could take.

We are conditioned to believe that in order to succeed in this world, we need to capture + horde ALL the power and ALL the money that we can possibly get our hands on. We are taught that these things are finite. Do not miss the boat. Do not get left behind. Keep on your game. You are replaceable and without money + power, you are worthless.

And so.

Isn't it interesting that if you visited the bedside of ANY dying person and asked them what truly mattered to them, that not one of them would tell you it was money or power.

What was important, they would tell you, was their loved ones, their community, their experiences. It was how they made people feel + how others made them feel. It was watching their children grow up. It was ditching their schedule to spend time in nature. It was the in-between, unlikely heartfelt moments they shared with their loved ones whilst doing laundry + taking long drives. Big belly laughs with friends. It was being seen (and loved) in their imperfections. It was blissfully immersing themselves in their art, music or gardens to the point that they lost track of time, logic and all reason. It was creating, loving and connecting with something greater than themselves.

These things cannot be bought.

We are not walking moral compasses. We are messy, clumsy, awkward human beings having a human experience. Over the course of our lives, we do the best that we can. And for each of us, this looks different. But in order to really be human, we must experience our humanness in its ENTIRETY, and that means: being tempted, making good + bad choices, fucking up, falling down, hurting people, being hurt and looking for ways to cope with and alleviate our pain. Even if we don't want to admit it.

Being integral is not being a saint – it is merely the direction we take. Our walk towards integrity is wobbly. We meander the path like toddlers or drunk people. We fall into potholes, trip over our own feet and sometimes we need others to hold our hand because we cannot be trusted not to do dumb shit.

So where are you negotiable and where are you not? What is that thing that you so deeply desire, worth? What will you give up to attain it? What seduces you? What are your prepared to do? And most importantly... where is your faith?

Keep walking towards that place where you are non-negotiable, remembering that faith does not make things easy - it makes them possible.

x

JOURNAL ENQUIRY:

~ If money were not an issue, what would I do with my time?

~ Where in my life does the Prostitute manifest?

~ Do I trade integrity for security in my relationships, career or personal power?

~ Where does my faith fall short? Why?

~ In what small ways can I rebuild faith?

~ Do I have moral boundaries? What are they?

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