“Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth”

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“Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth”

“Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth”

We all have an intrinsic need to feel accepted, and often feel as though we should conform to do so (sound familiar?). This is because as a newborn, one of our vital needs in order to survive is to be nurtured. Our brains quickly triple in size once outside of the womb because they would be too big for us to pop out of the proverbial oven otherwise. Therefore, with our tiny, under-developed baby brains, someone else absolutely must be there to nurture us.

This strongly-entrenched notion to conform and be accepted stays with us as we grow older, but can eventually be to our detriment and stifle us. How often has our desire to feel safe and accepted reduced us to the opinions of the masses, stunted our growth, or prevented our freedom?

If and when we choose to step out of a certain level of conformity, the problem therein lies in whether we decide to hide it or not.

 

Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth.
John F. Kennedy

 

As an escort, the choice lies in if we decide to suffer being “out” as part of a marginalized population or if we decide to hide it, instead presenting ourselves inauthentically so that we can fit in as square pegs in the round holes that society provides for us. We might fit in on a superficial level, but we are in full knowledge that we exist as outcasts in the cracks of society.

I decided to take the latter option – hiding, but not quite fitting in my round hole, purely because I know this existence isn’t my ‘forever’. I choose to protect my future, as well as family and friends from the stigma associated with sex work. Why should others have to suffer because I choose not to fit in? And yes, I did choose this life.

In a comfortable nine to five post-graduate job, my biggest problem was boredom. I hate to say that in a world with so much poverty, but this was simply my reality. Call me a spoilt brat, but I couldn’t see myself going on another month while I had my other grand ideas and dreams of seeing the world. Unlike what many people might think would push a person into my line of work, I was hardly living on a street corner and the only mouth I’ve ever had to feed is my own. My personality just wasn’t suited to working as a rung in the ladder of a large corporation.

I did not fall into sex work by accident; I chose it over many other viable options. No, I never thought, “when I grow up, I want to be an escort”, but I am quite happy with where I am right now. I enjoy immensely living out my infinitely sexy alter ego, I am glad to be able to use my income as leverage in other areas, and I am grateful for being able to be my own boss – a dream I have always had.

It is 2018, and if you haven’t realised it yet, sex doesn’t have to be for the pure reason of pro-creating or because of love. It can be a one-night tryst with a stranger, a frequent ritual with a sex buddy, a spur of the moment decision with a co-worker, or it can be an arrangement between two consenting adults with a defined set of rules and a big wad of cash. Yes – sex can be anything you want it to be.

The bottom-line is this: you shouldn’t think that because I exist in the cracks of society that I am unhappy. In some way or another I have always been an outcast. If we were to say past lives are actually a thing, then I would quite fancy myself as a witch doctor – even if I do get burnt at the stake in the end. Witch doctors have big hearts and don’t do any harm, but they have unconventional ways of living, helping, and healing. They’re largely misunderstood. It is unfortunate that people tend to fear and stigmatise what they don’t understand.

I once received a message from a client thanking me for helping him through the depths of his depression. He said I helped to make the world a brighter place. Another client told me he had sacked his unhelpful psychologist. His surplus money seems to come my way instead. For reasons like this, it is easy my fellow co-workers and I to be what we call “proud hos”. We bring joy into other people’s lives, all while relishing in the freedom we have created for ourselves. We travel where and when we please, we work hours that suit us, and take holidays as we see fit. We live life on our own terms.

Maybe there is such a thing as being too comfortable with being so free – as this is not conducive to living “the dream” (you know, that thing about having a mortgage, a white picket fence, and 2.3 kids). However, at least I know that my mortgage is not going to be so big, there is still plenty of time for kids, and I never liked white picket fences all that much anyway. I’ll have wrought iron to surround my acres, thank you. And finally, when I am an old lady with false teeth and grey hair I can smile with the knowledge that I have flung myself into the most enriching of experiences, have travelled the world several times over, and will say with absolute certainty that I have well and truly lived.

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