Editors Note: contains mention of people who have passed and their names.
“You came to me like a dream, the kind that always leaves, just when the best part starts, it ends so abruptly.”
Hot Water Music’s cover of an Alkaline Trio song fills the car, a track I’ve played a hundred times, maybe even a thousand. But today, something in Chuck Ragan’s voice cuts deeper than ever, and the tears I’ve been holding back since June – since Shannon passed away – finally spill over. I’m driving to my vanilla job, sobbing until my stomach aches.
“Woke up to my daily headache, and the realization that you are gone.”
Gone. She was gone.
D17, the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers, started in 2003 as a response to the apathy surrounding sex workers murdered by serial killers. But it’s not just about those victims. It’s about every system that has ever failed a sex worker. The government creates the conditions for exploitation to thrive and then pretends they don’t know the answers. Shannon’s death – and the deaths of so many others – are on their hands. Not that there’s a foolproof way to end violence against us or any other marginalized group entirely, but rights and protections would mitigate so much of it. If only the systems of power were willing to listen, to act, to protect us.
Decrim 305 started Miami’s first Slut Walk in December 2020 to raise awareness about these issues, giving our community a voice and a platform to fight back. For too long, we’ve been silenced, ignored, and vilified. This year, we honor Shannon’s legacy by dedicating the march to her memory. I can’t help but wish for a day when we no longer have to speak the name of another sex worker who has passed. A day when our lives are protected and safer. A day when we are no longer hated or hunted.
While handing out flyers on South Beach for this year’s Slut Walk, I passed the 11th Street Diner on Washington Ave, and it hit me – hard. This was the last place I saw Shannon. The memory struck like a truck, and suddenly Chuck Ragan’s voice was back in my head:
“And leaves you stunned and naked / In your bedroom all alone. Kind of funny how something so soothing / Gets interrupted by the ring of a telephone.”
We’d just wrapped up walking in Miami Beach Pride, the second year in a row that sex workers were included in the event. We were all so proud to see our community represented, to see that we weren’t the invisible “other” anymore. Shannon, myself, and some friends sat down for lunch, laughing and talking about the future. Shannon had dreams of moving to Miami, to be closer to our community. That dream was sadly cut short.
Shannon was very close to someone on our team, and we were all just getting to know her, just starting to see beneath the surface of her guarded exterior. She was warm, generous, and giving. The kind of person who would give you the shirt off her back without hesitation, no questions asked. No matter what she’d been through in her own life, she was always positive, always looking forward. She loved life and she loved her friends fiercely. Her friends were her family, and she made sure we knew it.
Since the beginning, Shannon had flown into Miami every year for Slut Walk. This is the first year she won’t be here. We all feel that absence. There’s a hole in our hearts where her laugh used to be, where her energy and light used to fill the room. She was one of the first to show up, to help organize, to be present. Now, we continue to carry that torch in her honor.
I can’t help but think about Shannon’s laugh. It was contagious, the kind that filled a room and softened the sharp edges of the world. She deserved more – more safety, more respect, more time. She deserved to be here, still fighting alongside us. And yet, like so many others, her life was cut short in a world that refuses to see our humanity. The hate and violence that stalks sex workers, the systemic indifference, takes far too many from us. We can’t forget that.
December 17 isn’t just a day to mourn; it’s a day to demand. Demand rights, demand safety, demand recognition. We aren’t asking for anything extraordinary. We are simply asking for the basic dignity and respect that every person deserves. Because our lives are not disposable, and our work should never come with a death sentence.
“My heart bleeds for what you never did. My heart bleeds for what you never did until now”
I dream of the day when we no longer need a memorial, when there are no more vigils, no more marches for the dead. A day when we live in a world that protects us, values us, and lets us thrive. But until that day comes, we’ll keep fighting. For Shannon. For all of us.
Slut Walk has always been special to our community, but this year, it feels especially important. Each step we take is a tribute, a demand, and a promise that their names won’t be forgotten. We walk not only for Shannon but for every sex worker lost to violence, for every soul who has been overlooked, disrespected, or cast aside. Our pain is deep, but our fight is stronger. We are united, we remain loud, and we fight for justice in solidarity.
In loving memory of Shannon.
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