I feel like I’m totally incapable of saying anything profound about the 5th Annual Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers. Every year, I don’t want to go to the vigil, but I do. I don’t want to go because it reminds me of how far the sex workers rights movement has to go, how many more sex workers will die before people consistently step up for us and we have legal protections. I like looking around and seeing the community, fresh and familiar faces, but the vigil always makes me sad. After the name reading tonight, I felt drained and bummed out, not inspired. But I know these public expressions of our sorrow, of our community, are necessary, as much as it sucks.
12:06 am
I had a similar reaction at ours tonight.
9:39 am
We actually chose not to do the reading of the names at ours, because we felt it would be disempowering (is that a word? Firefox spell check doesn’t like it) and potentially traumatizing for anyone present who may have been a victim of violence. We wanted to strike a good balance between acknowledging those who have been lost, and having a celebration of sex workers’ voices with a hopeful message. We printed out lists of the names and made them available for people to take if they wanted to, but we didn’t read them aloud.