4.1. Making Myself into Someone Else So I Can Be There
In dialog with the theoretical perspective explained above, we propose that a first discursive construction is produced through the defensive strategies that sex workers develop to face the demands of their trade, a strategy that (dis)places them from their intimate being and (re)situates them as a character.
It is an act of speech through which speakers seem to extract their subjectivity from the work situation. The following quote illustrates:
Actually, for me—and I am very sincere—it is my nourishment. My body and my face and my contact lenses are my presentation to a strange person, totally strange. It is my way of being and my way of acting, my conversation…All that is Rosita. It does not go to the person who is here at this moment; that is, it is like another me. I become another person. I transform. My contact lenses are my first transformation before a client; I feel totally inhibited if I do not have these contact lenses (Tatiana, 39 years old, Peruvian).
For Rosita, the exercise of the sex trade is the food of work. This discourse shows the (re)construction of a linear relationship between work and livelihood in which work is limited to an instrumental function; a means of obtaining sustenance. What matters is the end and not so much the means, even though, in this case, it involves the body itself in a key location. The body, however, acts as another self; it is transformed into another person. This strategic resource is understood as a defense of one’s subjectivity during the work.
Rosita proposes that in her work, she is another person; according to that logic, she uses another name for herself at work. In her experience, the demands of work, of encountering and having sex with a complete stranger, force her to be there without being there, to put another person there instead: “It is like another me. I become another person. I transform myself”. For this transformation, her main resource is contact lenses. Let us consider Dejours’ statement that the essence of subjectivity “consists of the fact of experiencing oneself” [
22]. We can consider that the subject changes her eyes to transform her view of herself and the world, which enables her to perform the work and act, in her own words, “uninhibited”. Without those lenses, without that artifact that transforms the person looking and what she sees, altering her subjectivity, it is less possible to engage in the exercise of sexual commerce. The crux of the work is acting as a way of protecting one’s subjectivity at work.
Rosita’s story continues below:
Right now [during the interview], I am wearing my contact lenses, but for aesthetic reasons. However, I am not in the other me; I am speaking from myself, from what this person feels when serving a client.
The discourse explicitly distinguishes the person, the one who feels, from her other self, the character who acts. The person who feels and the character who acts are divorced in this discursive construction. We understand this divorce in a Dejourian way as a defensive strategy against work demands; it seems to speak of a subjectivity that transits back and forth from the character that must be adopted to perform the task.
On the other hand, the perspective of Sandra offers a viewpoint in which the action performed is produced discursively according to a (de)sexualized logic, since its staging emphasizes affective rather than sexual components. This is evident in the following quote:
[What I offer is] being treated well. That is, good treatment, predisposition. Eyes open, listening to what they have come to say; beyond looking for sex, they often come to vent. Ninety percent of the time, they come to let off steam, tell me their problems, their experiences, perhaps the same thing they would say when coming home. From “I am tired, I had a lot of trouble” to hoping for affection, a caress, and a kiss; affectionate treatment (Sandra, 45 years old, Bolivian).
According to this proposition, Sandra is above all a predisposed woman; that is, she is positioned, above all, to satisfy the man’s need for affective–emotional discharge as well as a sexual outlet; she constructs this role discursively as the offer of an outlet and, in turn, an opportunity for respite. In this way, the link between sex workers and clients is discursively understood as a vital pause; their transaction offers a respite that clients—in this case, male miners—seem unable to find elsewhere. We can say, then, that the speakers’ discourse places them in a position of mitigating some psychological suffering of their clients and takes the focus away from the sexual dimension of the transaction.
The whore, who is often designated as an evil woman, a public woman, emerges here as capable of containing the personal discomfort of her clients and, incidentally, fulfilling a role historically attributed to the wife. Beyond sex, the body of the sex worker seems prepared/made to listen, and—according to an interviewee—the emotional containment of her clients frames this dynamic 90% of the time.
Additionally, I say, “Hello, my love; hello, my darling; hello, baby”. That is how I treat them, right? Additionally, when you treat him better on the phone, the more he wants the service. So I say, “Look, my love; I work independently. I am on such-and-such street”. They say, “What do you look like?”. Additionally, I say, “Look, I am tall, blonde; I am a foreigner”. “…Additionally, your services?…” [they ask]. In other words, they want to know how you are going to treat them. When they go to the apartment—because it is an apartment where I meet them; it is not private—they arrive, and I say to them, “Okay, oral sex, vaginal sex, caresses, kisses, boyfriend treatment…”. “What is a boyfriend treatment?” [they ask]. “Treating me like your girlfriend” (the participants laugh—in a mocking tone)… As if they are looking for more affection from us. They want you to become their girlfriend. So they are there with the boyfriend deal. So I am already being super affectionate, super accommodating, like they are already going to that fantasy. Then, I arrive and say, “Hello, my love”; I grab him, kissing him. So what do they like? That I treat them as if I were their girlfriend; that affection. Additionally, I am super affectionate. Therefore, I have many clients from the mine. They come and go and tell me… “Are they single, married, widowed, left or separated?”, I say to them (laughs) (…) Additionally, they feel very important [in] that moment there (Maritza, 37 years old, Colombian).
The discursive construction of the client–man–worker–miner that Maritza produces is that of an affectively deprived subject, or at least, one who requires time and space to feel important and well treated; she makes it clear that she knows what men need and what they want; therefore, what is sold before sex, is what she calls the boyfriend deal. Whether her clients are single, married, widowed, or abandoned, Maritza is situated in a place that assumes knowledge about them, namely, that they want affection and caring, and not necessarily sex. This affection is required from a woman who discursively produces and advertises herself as beautiful, resolute, autonomous, and independent; has her own apartment; and—this seems important—is a foreigner, and therefore, possesses qualities brought from other locations.
Therefore, it is important to understand how this boyfriend treatment has been incorporated into the offer that foreign sex workers provide and to discern whether this has been a product of the dynamics of the Chilean sex trade or has originated from the consumers’ demands. In this sense, the word “pololo (boyfriend)” is used as the axis since it is a Chileanism that refers to a romantic bond between two people who intend to establish a long-term relationship but does not imply progression to something with a larger connotation, such as a courtship or marriage.
These sexual–affective encounters are not private, local encounters; they take place in Maritza’s apartment. The offer of sexual services seems to be more complex to the extent that the woman is enlarged, while, at the same time, the client is called a baby. In this regard, although the baby signifier is used regularly by foreign women in a loving tone, it is also true that it refers to a small child who needs care. Interestingly, according to this discursive construction, the client likes to assume the position of a baby and seeks this treatment. We are encouraged to propose that this strategy—that is, putting the male in the position of a child who will be pampered with affection—serves to (de)sexualize the activity or, at least, to (de)centralize sexual intercourse as work.
We emphasize that the enunciation of the boyfriend deal is followed by laughter with a mocking tone among the participants of the conversation, which exposes that it is an illusion that is sold to men, since the deal is to act as a boyfriend, knowing that they are not. In this way, the image for sale of a fantasy that goes beyond the purely sexual is constructed. The illusion is of making others believe and feel that they are important, or at least to offer them a time when they can experience themselves as someone important, who deserves to be cared for and treated with love. As presented in Maritza’s discourse, this performance makes it possible for clients to come and go and for the sex worker to be successful because she has interpreted the client’s needs and, perhaps, a profound reason for her recourse to prostitution.
a. The Whore is the Wife: The Circularity of Love Transactions
The discursive construction that we have been producing in this analysis, which consists of the subversion of the role commonly attributed to sex workers and the (re)significance of their work providing love and understanding, is continued in the way that the self-described sex workers characterize the wives of men–workers–miners. It is imperative here to consider that this is the discourse produced by the sex workers interviewed, interpreted as a way of constructing subjective positionings both for their mineworker clients and for their wives, which will not necessarily coincide with the latter’s enunciations:
The wives think only of the ATM (they all laugh). It has to be said… two-week periods and no more (Jasmine, 30 years old, Argentina).
In this discursive construction, the women–wives are placed in a position intertwined with their economic interest in their partners, who are, in turn, signified with the image of the automatic teller machine (ATM). According to interviewees, the objectified figure is that of the man–worker–miner, who is reduced to the function of providing money. According to the statements of the women interviewed, among those who trade affection and sex for money, wives take the lead.
Additionally, the group’s laughter during the discourse is interesting, especially because it was followed by the phrase “it has to be said”. The narrative aims to reveal a kind of unspoken truth: that women–wives only have sex “every two weeks” when the husband–man–worker–miner brings money home and exercises the cashier role. In other words, the discursive construction of the sex worker proposes that sex is also traded for money in the miner’s marital life.
In the discursive constructions of the sex workers, the man objectified by the figure of the cashier is emptied of subjectivity, recognition, and affection, and that is precisely what he seeks from the sex trade, as the following quote suggests:
So what are they looking for? Affection, because at home, they say they do not get it. The women are more dedicated to shopping than to the babies, and when they are home, they do not give their men enough time. They seek affection, attention, so that is what I, for example, give as Rosita. I give him affection, that attention: “My love, do you want some water? Do you want a drink? Do you want this?” (Rosita, 39 years old, Chilean).
The discursive construction of the woman–wife seems to be precisely that of (in)disposition, of a woman who is not there for the man–miner–husband and the satisfaction of his sexual or affective needs. This woman is preoccupied with caring for the children, the house, or even herself, buying things, and spending the money generated by the husband. The man turned into a cashier is left in a position of affective and sexual deprivation. The sex worker occupies this empty place. She gives him affection, attention; calls him “my love”.
Consequently, the places and roles of the wife and prostitute are shaken by these discourses; they are set in motion and are endowed with subjectivity and possibilities for action. In contrast, the man–worker–miner is located in an objectified place. Male domination is reversed, and the three vertices of the triangle are (re)signified. In this scheme, the sex worker is (self)constructed discursively as the provider of care, attention, and affection, all in exchange for money, of course. It is a love that is animated by pay that is expressed in this condition. On the other hand, the woman–wife emerges in this discourse as cold and calculating, since the husband is important to her only once every two weeks and by virtue of the fact she can extract money from him then. In this sense, to satisfy the affective–sexual needs of her husband, the woman–wife is also characterized mockingly, mobilized around an objective that is also built animated by money and is not love. Finally, the man–worker–miner, who is supposedly a representative of male domination, is emptied of subjectivity. He ends up instrumentalized by the woman–wife and excited by the sex worker. In both cases, the love he seeks is the product of action and economic transactions. It is worth explaining that this is the discursive construction of the sex workers who participated in the research and not that of the men–workers–miners or their wives, who are brought to the analysis from the imaginary and via the voices of the sex workers.
Following this line, in these voices, the miner’s family is constructed discursively as a structure in which the mine worker is paradoxically undermined. This can be interpreted from the following quote:
It is he [the mining worker] who supports the family, but no one gives value to that, neither the children nor the wife. Therefore, they try to seek this attention elsewhere. Their morale is on the floor (Anayensi, 28 years old, Colombian).
We emphasize here the signifier of value, or at least it’s dual significance. First, it is understood as the value associated with economic contribution, since without the money that the man–worker–miner earns through his work, his family is not supported and falls apart. Second, it is understood as the value associated with an ethical notion and (self) valuation, as expressed in the quote through the signifier of morality.
According to the fragment of the sex worker’s narrative presented above, the lack of recognition of the value of the man’s contribution to the house is associated with a devaluation of the subject himself since his morality ends up on the floor.
The discourse of the sex workers who participated in this research is consistent with the proposal raised by Martynowskyj [
45] regarding problematizing prostitution as the exclusive domain of affective–sexual transactions for money. From this perspective, the sex trade is (re)situated as a fundamentally emotional space for the psychological restitution of working men. This can be paraphrased as follows: What sex workers provide is attention, which can be understood as an act of concern, or even respect and affection, for the other. This attention is something that this other cannot find elsewhere, although it is still attention motivated by money:
[When the money exchange occurs], for us, [it is] exciting! Because, well, it is silver (money). Without money, there is no love (Vania, 36 years old, Venezuelan).
These analyses put us on the track toward the third discursive axis, which is the objective of this analysis that seeks to understand the discursive construction of the man–worker–miner in the utterances of the sex worker.
4.2. Wounded Masculinities and Reparative Action
The image of wounded masculinity was developed throughout the present analysis. Therefore, we will start by returning to the last fragment quoted, which alludes to the demoralization of the man–worker–miner. In this context, we consider a third meaning of the expression “morality” and propose that what gets “floored” is male virility. This virilis virtus, addressed by Bourdieu [
5], is a virility that urgently needs to be rescued. To this end, the reparatory action of the women who participated in this research is a fundamental act, as we explain in the following interview fragment:
Consuelo (50 years old, Colombian): They worry whether or not the woman climaxes, that she always has an orgasm; that is, it’s like they feel macho when the woman finishes. They say, “I made her finish”, or “I was with a woman”, or “With this one, like this: Aaah! Additionally, I made her come like a man”.
Estrella (55 years old, Ecuatorian): Additionally, because we women are so resourceful, we always make them think they did.
Cinthia (40 years old, Colombian): Because otherwise, we would still be there. They never leave.
Yisela (31 years old, Bolivian): They believe everything, then. However, no…
Danna (37 years old, Argentina): I do not know if they believe it. I think they believe in the moment, because when they ejaculate, and they are there, they say to you, “Oh, my love, how beautiful; it’s all finished”. Additionally, one says: “Oh yes, my life! (participants laugh)”. It’s just that you have to tell him… Actually, for example, I have clients that I already know; that is, in general, I already know my clients. I already know which one, for example (…) They visit me often, and those I know, generally, I already know that one likes it when I have an orgasm and what they like to do. Additionally, if they are a new customer, I try to find out.
Oriana (34 years old, Venezuelan): The truth is, the only thing I want when they arrive is for them to get on and then leave. I do not want anything else (Excerpt from group interview).
The specific sexual dimension of the relationship emerges in this excerpt, which shows that much of what men–workers–miners pay for is to feel like men.
The male in this discussion proves himself by giving the female an orgasm: “Additionally, I made her come like a man” is what Rosita interprets as the internal sensation of her client, which is satisfaction, because this is what the men are looking for, and the women know it. At the same time, the word like a preceding the word man is highlighted; it implies a sort of man, but not necessarily a true man. Moreover, although we are not interested here in a discussion about true manhood, the like a is remarkable to the extent that it follows, in this discursive construction, the action of Rosita, who, knowing what the client wants and needs—namely, to affirm his virility—feigns an orgasm. Through this action, the wounded virility of the man–worker–miner is repaired, even if the action is illusory.
Another important nuance in this action is provided by the defensive strategy described by the speaker: At the same time that she satisfies the client’s need to repair his virility (with an orgasm), she also lightens her workload, and with this, gains time away from work: by pretending to finish, the man also finishes.
In this act, the man seems to be more focused on performance than on pleasure, and his behavior centers around a primary objective: To make the woman have an orgasm and, as a result, experience himself as a man capable of pleasuring a woman. However, for his counterpart, the trick is simple: “‘Oh yes, my life!’, you have to tell him…”. Rosita leads him to believe she has had an orgasm to leave him satisfied. In this sense, it seems that the woman’s sexual expertise is not the most important thing for the man; instead, it is whether she has an orgasm that marks the self-evaluation of his performance. According to the speaker, customers return for this reason: They know that with her, they will be able to uphold a virile image.
The conclusion is clear: Regardless of the action, it is marked as the truth that the only thing she wants is for the man to leave in all senses: to ejaculate and then leave the apartment.
This analysis offers a problematization of the understanding of male clients of prostitutes. In contrast to the proposal of Volnovich [
46], who argues that men seek to relate to degraded sexual objects as a way of unleashing their appetites for domination, the image that emerges from the discourses of the participants in this study is of a degraded man who seeks to repair his virile image of himself. A framework of moralities is woven in the social imaginary that presents sex workers as tainted and outcast subjects. If they do not comply with this shattered image—that is, if they do not complain about the damage that has been done to them in their lives if they do not recount how they have been forced—and instead promote themselves as figures with power or autonomy, it has a high cost to the bond they want to establish with the client who comes to be repaired. Such an attitude does not produce fear that they will not survive an attack; on the contrary, it produces fear that they are saying that the work is not as scary as it seems, and they are at ease with it [
34].