"I don't like Germans. Why should I sleep with them without getting
paid?"
"You won't make it here in Germany unless you sleep your way up."
Two statements. Two different people. Two different privileges. Two
worlds apart. Same city.
We learn something from sex workers. There is a fuck you world attitude
about them that you can't resist. You know they survive things you can't even
imagine. They survive better than you. They're stronger. They made it that far.
You have to listen up and learn. When she describes Germans as disgusting, you
know she has a point. A very spot on point. She knows their worth. She knows
how cheap they are. How greedy. How far they fed and still feed on the bodies
of brown and black people. She is the one who sees them for what they are. It's
the brutal honesty of sex workers that
I move to the second statement.
It was the bourgeoisie student. The privileged one who speaks German already.
The one who resists the language of antiracism, who's reluctant to call white
people white. It is his moment of disclosure. He sold his body to get ahead. To
get a job. A promotion. A flat. Or even a visa. It was his shame that was
preventing him from admitting the truth about Germany. Because he played the
game with them. He sold his body and he tried to cover it up. He made them look
better than what they are because he was ashamed of selling his body. Those
bourgeoisie fantasies and lies. This self-centering that fucks us up and eats
us alive.
