My stage name is Lana, which is fun because when I introduce myself to customers at the club I can wink and say, “Like ‘anal’ backwards.” I’ve found that if you say this to an investment banker after midnight, it really ups your chances at draining his bank account. But most customers still want to know my real name. I regularly offer them the opportunity to pay to know my name, and then give them another fake name like “Sarah” when they hand over the cash. Because my real name is private and my stage name protects me, Lana is my name while you are seeking out my business, and my real name is none of your business.
Accepting the name I give you is a matter of respecting my boundaries, plain and simple. Sex work comes with risks, so sex workers have systems in the place that aim to keep us as safe as possible. Not revealing our real name or identity is a part of that system. It helps us avoid stalkers, legal trouble – which can lead to police harassment and violence – and also provides us the privacy that we deserve. We put ourselves out there a lot – both physically and emotionally – while on the clock, and it’s our right to withhold a part of ourselves that we only give out in our private life. We are not asking too much for people to respect that.
Accepting the name I give you is a matter of respecting my boundaries, plain and simple.
In many ways, sex work is a performance. From getting in touch with our divine feminine, to faking orgasms, to feigning amusement – sex work requires us to be “on” a lot. That doesn’t mean it’s a performance completely devoid of authentic enjoyment or elements of our true selves. As actors will tell you, acting is still you, playing a role. You can’t erase yourself from the performance. The same is true in sex work. Lana is me and I am Lana – but Lana is not the same version of me at home, though she still sits with me there. Naturally, the longer I know clients, the more comfortable and “real” I become with them. My performance changes. The veil between my personas can be thin, and I find comfort and peace in knowing that there are truly some things that are only meant for me and the people in my life that I choose to share them with. My real name is one of those things.
I once made a rookie mistake, I had a client send me a security deposit via a PayPal that was attached to a bank account with my government name. I thought that by putting “Lana” as my name on PayPal I would avoid the client seeing my name, but that wasn’t the case. He proceeded to Google me and would tell me about how he was listening to me on podcasts, reading some of my writing from when I worked as a freelancer, and more. It really put me on edge, and made me feel exposed, and not in control, particularly in a situation where my control can equate to my safety and well being. In civilian terms, my work/life balance was thrown off. I, like many professionals, like to keep my work and private life separate. Having a client gain access to my private life took away my peace, and it all came from him finding out my real name.
Lana is me and I am Lana – but Lana is not the same version of me at home, though she still sits with me there.
Clients’ desire to know our real names reveals an interesting dissonance that exists between our transactions. They literally want to pay us for a fantasy. And yet, they want that fantasy to be real, whilst also presuming that same money pays for an all-access pass to our private lives.
They recognize that sex workers must protect themselves, but they won’t accept that they are what we are protecting ourselves from. They need us and everyone to know that they aren’t like the other guys – we can be real with them. Honestly, I believe this comes from the shame they feel about partaking in a service that is so deeply stigmatized in society. It’s why some customers feel the need to yell at strippers about how they “don’t have to pay for that.” They feel emasculated by having to play by our rules when it comes to accessing us, which is why a client asking me for my real name is such a huge red flag. When I hear this question, I brace myself for having to deal with the most exhausting, boundary pushing, entitled kind of client. If you’re going to the club and asking the strippers what their real name is, just know you’re making a bunch of extremely hot people think you’re annoying.
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