I have explained that I stumbled into street prostitution as a -just-right-now-real-quick sort of thing. In other words I viewed my actions completely independent from my self. Prostitution was a task not an identity. Throughout my years on  the street I set myself apart by internally embracing the role of Anthropologist which was easy for me since that was my undergraduate field of study.  Anthropologists are like undercover researchers although unlike the police the goal is not to deceive people by adopting a false identity but to gain acceptance so thoroughly people forget you’re present.   People then feel free to be themselves and the researcher can observe the way things really are.

One fascinating occurrence was the always unexpected occasiobs when something disproves a belief I held as a self evident fact. Today President Trump’s talks about fake news. I don’t know if I mean fake news the wat he does but I can d finitely agree that just because something is on the news does not make it true. For example, I had been given the definite impression that black people used drugs, especially crack, and that white people did not. My drug career began with cocaine in the company of racially diverse gatherings of people from many different backgrounds. I was not the only one working in a graduate degree (or more accurately I was not the only one who had quit working in a graduate degree). Someone once said to me , “I am sure you did not get a high class of guy downtown looking for a girl.” Another falsehood. All sorts of guys came for the forbidden fruit. I am sure some did it in spite of the low class reputation of the scene and some came to go slumming.  There was no “typical” trick. Every day when I stepped into Kukui Street, not with a dollar and a dream but without a dollar or a dream, I was filled with a sense of adventure as I looked forward to… I knew not what. I probably would never have gained entree into so many luxury homes in gated communities like Black Point, Lanikai, and Wailai’iki Ridge.  Ok, sure, I often ended up walking in the dark from the back of some distant (from Chinatown) valley when the guy got mad and refused to drive me back after I made a smart aleck remark, but I still got to travel around the island. According to my records every time I hit the block I made money. Never once did I say oh well I guess I won’t get anything and give up. Someone would always pick me up and often let me stay for days. Relationships based on up front quid pro quo were normal for all the girls. Everyone had some guy helping her out, maybe not to the same degree as the “Pretty Woman” scenario, but aside from the extreme wealth of Richard Gere’s character, that movie was quite realistic in it’s portrayal of the mingled lives of the Hooker and trick.

Now that I think about the people downtown I must make the distinction between those who came to “pick up” and those who remained full time. The latter group is comprised of the Underclass while the former is playing with fire but on the other side of the fence.



Published by X-Streetwalker Turned Sex Talker

Caroleena used to be a drug addicted hooker on streets of downtown Honolulu in the early years of the 21st century. She was not the only learned streetwalker among the sex worker addicts. This group would have been a liberal college admissions officer's dream of diversity seeing as how they represented such a wide range of ages, races, family types, locations of origin, education levels, and gender identities. The two constants were trauma and dependency. Everyone out there had experienced life altering trauma which spurred them to seek refuge in drugs. Addiction was the unexpected phenomenon that kept them stuck in the dope. This downtown area was different from other drug saturated areas of America in one important way. The U.S. is the most violent country in the world, but in this corner of the nation there were no street gangs, no gun violence. You wouldn't get shot but you were probably going to be beaten up and robbed at some point. Interpersonal violence between intimate partners, friends, and family members was viewed as a natural part of being close to people. "Domestics" was something an individual brought upon herself or himself by causing problems in an interpersonal relationship. Caroleena, the perennial pariah even among society's rejects, had no intimate associates who might harm her. Prostitution was not as risky on Oahu as it was most everywhere else because the island was just too small. Everyone was somehow connected to everyone else with only something like two degrees of separation. You commit a crime, someone will know who you are and someone else will know how to find you. Hookers rarely got killed. Honolulu's relative safety allowed Caroleena over 10 years of street longevity until the scene ended when authorities started arresting men for allegedly soliciting undercover police for sex and posting their pictures on the evening news. ExpertEscort2018.com/ tells Caroleena's adventures during her decade of addiction and its consequences--homelessness, prostitution, drug dealing, incarceration, family destruction, the list goes on. Every story relates events Caroleena experienced, witnessed, or imagined. The tale of this outcast is skillfully and paradoxically told in the language of the elite. The wording of the posts is itself a testimony to the wide grip that addiction has on all levels of society, even impacting the privileged who were previously thought to be immune to the troubles of the lower class. During these days of opiate addiction maybe she can answer some questions and present applicable solutions. If not, you are still in for a hell of a good read.

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