Elaine, Wendy, and
I were scared and nervous...but she stood her ground, hands on hips, feet firmly planted
she may not be a whore, but she could be their pimp
It could then be argued that the angry women were simply trying to frighten off other prostitutes competing for the same source of benefits
A Rose By Any Other Name
Hong Kong may stand as a beacon offering China a commercial gateway to the World, but in common with many urban centres across the globe it's home to far more acient and human business practices...in an English translation taken from her book 'old businesss, new profession', Yeeshan Yang asks, why prostitution.
A group of apparently wealthy, well-dressed housewives with slightly too much make-up, and slightly too much jewellery, burst into a European style furniture store in Causeway Bay. They tore up the sheets, knocked over the tables and chairs, yelled, and generally caused mayhem. Miss Fu, the store manager, told Elaine and Wendy, the two other assistants, and me, then only 18 years old, to try to reason with the women while she called for the police.
"How do you dare stand there so brazenly, after seducing our husbands?" Shouted one on the women.
"You chickens (HK slang for hooker) show us what you have that’s so good! You don’t just sell beds, you whores hop onto them with our husbands!"
Elaine, Wendy, and I were scared and nervous. So was Miss Fu, but she stood her ground, hands on hips, feet firmly planted, and responded: "Look at yourselves, you stupid, tai-tai bitches. Shitheads, no wonder your men run after other women. Your husbands aren’t here, go and look for them in a whore house!"
The most slightly built of the women was sure this defence confirmed that Miss Fu really did have something to hide. She grabbed Miss Fu’s hair and yelled, "You slut, selling beds has turned you into one yourself. How can you even think of being my husband’s mistress? Why don’t you take a look at yourself? You ugly dried up old spinster!"
Ironically, another commented: "Your husband must have poor taste. How else could he screw a shit like her?"
The slightly built one let Miss Fu go and asked, "If it's not you, then who is it?" They looked at us accusingly. Eventually, all eyes landed on Elaine.
"This slut has a mole big as a broad bean," one of the women said, "she may not be a whore, but she could be their pimp." This stunned poor Elaine, whose jaw dropped visibly. Then, fingers stabbed at Wendy’s face, "Men wouldn’t touch her poxy face, but they’d love to feel her huge tits." Wendy flushed profusely.
Suddenly, the largest of the marauding woman shouted directly at me, "Look at her, thin eyes and thick lips, a born chicken." I was nervous, confused, and angry.
The police arrived within twenty minutes and took the worst of the troublemakers away. There was little sympathy from the police for those left behind, licking their wounds and feeling like the real victims. Though they had been accused of being: a damned pimp with bad skin and annoyingly full breasts; a deserted spinster; and a born chicken with narrow eyes and full lips.
For weeks after the showdown, Elaine remained embarrassed at the public ridicule of Wendy’s mole and eventually resigned. Wendy reacted badly to Miss Fu's continued reminders of the comments about her skin and breasts; feeling that they implied blame of some sort. Finally, Wendy sought redress from the labour union who arranged a settlement.
My own supposed 'chicken look', was destined to make me the butt of continued jibes. After a row with the staff members who were making fun of me, I was fired by Miss Fu.
I was only 18, and I found the accusation of having a "chicken look" much more shameful than anything else I could imagine. Years later, I still feel the shame. Even now, some years on, I will look at myself in the mirror to try and see if the accusation is false, and to confirm that I am a good woman.
One of the housewives eventually admitted they had made a mistake and should have gone into the shop next door. The housewives’ collective jealousy had erroneously affected the lives of innocent individuals and left me with a powerful memory.
Although confused at the time, with the benefit of hindsight I can see many implications and emotions in the events at the furniture store. The loathing those married women had for prostitutes, stemming perhaps from the fear of ageing and loss of attractiveness. Subjectively, it was easier to blame the remote parties (the prostitutes), rather than the men. Push a man too far and he takes his patronage elsewhere. This creates self-fulfilling accusation, whether or not a prostitute is the cause.
Consider it like this:
security, housing, clothes, a comfortable life
in return for such benefits as
companionship, sexual availability, housekeeper, birth mother and child minder.
It could then be argued that the angry women were simply trying to frighten off other prostitutes competing for the same source of benefits and security. A rose by any other name.
Prostitution is often called the oldest profession. It is probably more accurate to call it the oldest business. Despite its many forms, the common factor is an exchange of usually, but not always, money, given in return for sex. In this context, ‘sex’ is used to describe any benefit obtained from a person of the opposite sex - such as non-contact companionship, friendly affection, outings as an apparent couple, all the way through to missionary sex and beyond.
Whenever and whatever the demand, there has always been a supply, and vice versa. What drives what? Chickens and eggs in an eternal circle.
In literature and the visual arts, the prostitute is typically portrayed by reference to quite clearly defined clichés: as superficially sweet, an appealing creature hiding an underlying, hard-edged cynicism or, a downtrodden, used and abused wretch, or a happy hooker in full control acting out of choice and living proof of Darwin’s notion that the female chooses the male. This was a shocking concept to Darwin’s male contemporaries, and despite its compatibility with biological evolution, it remains uncomfortably at odds with much feminist thinking on the subject of female sex workers. The feminist view of male sex workers is rather more fuzzy.
Prostitution is a classic case of its proximity determining perception. In another country, it may be seen as a fascinating aspect of an exotic culture, something different and exciting. In the next town, it is a social ill, about which something really should be done. In the same street in which one lives, it is a terrible, disgusting, immoral, depraved business operated by the cheap criminals and even cheaper women.
In truth, people who suppose themselves to be morally superior would rather not acknowledge the existence of prostitution in their own society, its existence being a reflection of aspects of self. Such prejudice is deeply rooted. It serves to reinforce notions of moral superiority, and justifies a lack of concern about the welfare and dignity of prostitutes.
Pragmatically, however uncomfortable, it's best that societies accept prostitution is here to stay. If the might of the United States could not eradicate the urge to drink alcohol during the Prohibition era, eradicating an aspect of hormonally driven human behaviour is not an initiative likely to succeed.
© Yeeshan Yang, 2005 (all rights reserved)Yeeshan has worked on various freelance and academic projects over time, and is currently seeking opportunities for the English translations of her work.