Addiction and Prostitution in Hawaii

Normal People Have No Respect for My Efforts to Humanize Sex Workers and that hurts!

Wow, what an Ugly Interaction with a big wig Honolulu attorney. Good thing I was prepared, but it still stung.

I don’t mind sharing this bit of my life with you, mostly because no one I know reads anything I write. It is easier to be honest when you’re not being honest with a specific someone. Anyway, I have been involved with a dispute about people treating me badly where I live. I brought the action myself because to be, again, honest, no attorney wanted to back up someone with my “background.” And this “background” always justifies people mistreating me. You might logically ask why I would keep the background in the foreground by doing this blog, and you would have a logical point. The reason I have publicly declared myself a self appointed spokesperson for people who could care less about anyone speaking for them is that I was, first and foremost, trying to find a way to take my record and make it work for me and not against me. This record is the thing that excludes me from employment and other opportunities. What if I could make money off of the stories that I know–what a coup that would be! Do you think I should pretend that I was primarily community minded, that I wanted to be an advocate for the voiceless who are voiceless because people do not care what they have to say and they have nothing to say because they are too busy pursuing their addictions anyway? Should I have pretended to have reached a place of enlightenment that has always eluded me by making myself out to be self sacrificing so much so that I would give up a fresh start in order to establish possible understanding of the outcasts? I could have lied but to what end? There is no fresh start. The internet makes public record so very public. It is not front and center if you google my name, but if you know how to access Hawaii court records, you can enter someone’s first and last name and you can find out their entire legal history in this state. Felony, misdemeanor, lawsuits, divorce–it is all right there if you go to E Court Kokua. There is no need to pay a professional for a background check if you want to access an individual’s legal history in Hawaii, minus family court confidential stuff. I was acting on the premise that “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” is a workaround your unfavorable record. If I could repackage my legal history I could get people to see things my way and reduce the stigma–I thought. I thought wrong. I believed I could make money off of my stories, I planned. My plan has yet to come to fruition. Finally, I could make people see the outcasts as people. I could not change people’s views. There was nothing but contempt during the interaction with the attorney who is a member of the establishment with a capital E, Establishment. I could tell he was tripping over himself trying not to reveal the higher minded purpose of my writing, but only because I knew what he was not saying about the intellectual side of my work. But no one else would suspect an intellectual take on street life is being downplayed by one of my detractors! I think for anyone listening to this attorney give his view of me, with the underlying message being I was treated badly because that is what I deserve, I think the most audible part of his speech was his contempt. In fact, his contempt was so strong it overpowered the particular meaning of any word, singly or in combination. I can only remember the feeling, I cannot recall what he actually said. The reality of the inescapability of my life makes me sad. I feel deflated which is a foreign feeling for someone likes me who rides on her energy much of the time. The social skills it takes to repackage my record in a way that is appealing to others, or at least not a complete deal breaker when it comes to knowing me, well those skills fall somewhere in the likablity range and I have never been high on that scale.

Will you dislike the depressing nature of this real time writing? If you knew my depressive self would you keep reading?

I never write when I am in the midst of a feeling but I am doing precisely that. I am trying to correct one of the things I believe has kept my blog from being more popular. I am trying to personalize my writing to give my readers a view into me so that they feel they know me. Me, the person who so desperately wanted to be someone that she looked for prestige outside of herself to fill that hole, but when a Harvard degree did not complete me, I gave up altogether feeling betrayed by what I perceived as a broken promise. I thought if I was successful I would feel a certain way, and stop feeling another way, and that is not what happened. Yes, the great vocabulary was there, for one thing, but belonging to a group, being on the inside–I thought that degree would earn me an invitation into people’s personal lives but it did not. I was not an outsider because I did not have a good enough resume. I was an outsider because of something I was or was not. That is why I tried drugs when they were offered to me, why I gave up on pushing forward in a career. Imagine striving for so long and hard only to end up alone at Christmas, yet again, with nothing but the pity invitation that people with families extend to loners on the holidays. That is where I was in New York City in 1996 when I met some people in a bar who wanted me to try smoking something out of a glass tube. I had never seen such a thing. But drugs–that was incredible. You had to know someone to know about drugs, you had to have connections for a way into the taboo and forbidden. I repositioned my hope to belong with the people doing the hidden forbidden. I thought I could belong there. I did not know drugs were a path to being completely alone and even more self obsessed than I already was. Not even self obsessed, but other obsessed. Obsessed with getting something outside of myself, and an obsession far more all consuming than the desire to achieve. No one would walk the path with me, but I did not know that when I tried the drug. We never experiment by ourselves. We are always presented a picture of how drugs is something special, elite even, and we see it as an opportunity to obtain something we have always wanted but had no hope of acquiring. We wanted to come in, and leave being an outsider behind. It was one of the few truly honest mistakes I have made in my life. I just did not know that all these years later I would be typing these words in a one bedroom apartment that I share with my cat, no people, no friends, no family. I did not know things would end up as they began. Except now, no one cares that I went to Harvard, if they even believe it.

I better keep the real me under wraps if I want anyone to keep reading.

I hope these depressing words are not too off putting. I just got through with the phone conference with the court so you are hearing the raw emotion. You ever hear how bored people are boring. I do know that depressed people are depressing, so I will stop now. The good news is that thousands of people around the world have found me temporarily amusing in very small doses. One must take one’s victories where they can be found. Discovering what people really think of me is a subject best left unexplored. And being real needs to give way to pretending. If I lost you my beloved readers, I would really be alone. So next post will be happy happy joy joy. If not, I will at the very least present you with some energizing outrage! Thanks for letting me share.


On the street you try to kill your human feelings

On the street it is risky to let yourself be human but it is surprisingly difficult to remember you are not supposed to care about anyone. After all no one cares about you! Still you find yourself looking forward to seeing a guy, ok–a client, you particularly like to talk to, and then you find out he is nit interested in seeing you now. You do not expect to feel a pang of jealousy when you discover your “regular” has gone with another working girl. But the jealousy is there. You tell yourself not to be disappointed when you expected someone to meet you but he stands you up. And be is a no show after calling you throughout the day to confirm your appointment. Why is it so easy for other people on the street, so easy for the guys you “date” as a working girl, to disregard you. But you have feelings for them. Not love, for sure, but you do not want to feel anything at all. You want to be like the other people who deal with you on the street and then walk on by. Others appear to understand that it is all about the hustle, while you still get your feelings involved as if you are some sort of…normal person. When you are not a normal person! You know better than normal people. You had tried being a normal person and you could never fit in. Yhen you had found drugs and drugs automatically came with people who will keep you around BC you have drugs or you are willing to do things for drugs. At least you have company, albeit temporary. You should be content with a life that is less isolated than when you were on the straight and narrow and no one ever called. If only you did not get overly invested!

Maybe you are wrong. Maybe you should maintain your humanity. Maybe the problem is not your failure to be unfeeling but something else? It is possible you need to feel hurt and simply deal with the feeling. Denying your humanity is itself a weakness that drives you the drugs that make it necessary to be on the street to get the fast money. All the time you spend telling yourself “do NOT care!” might have been time better spent just acknowledging the pain and embracing your humanity. It is so hard to know how to be? What’s the right way to think that works best? Does everyone go around in circles with these self doubts or is that a street thing to toughen up? Who knows what’s the right way to be? These are thoughts people have when they are “out there” meaning on the strest

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Audio of small time Honolulu “dealer”!AtHyXXFFMlW0gfd5f9JX-W5TzSrWYg

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Street Prayer I Said Every Time I Turned to the Street to Get $

Get a Date, Get Paid, Get Dope, Find a Safe place indoors to use the dope, Repeat these steps from the beginning when I ran out. It won’t surprise you to know I had concerns about what I had to do, concerns I addressed with the following prayer and apology. This is what I said every time I walked to my usual spot on Kukui Street where I could read a book while I tried to catch the eye of slowly moving drivers:

God, if You Are There

  • If You are there
  • If You Care
  • Please don’t let me get arrested
  • Please let me make enough for a nice amount of dope,
  • And please don’t let me get hurt.
  • Oh yeah, please forgive me bc yes, that list is arranged from most to least important to me.
I was in paradise but way off the beaten tourist track. Not even yours promising a “genuine” look at Honolulu take you to the red light district on Kukui Street

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Fascinating and Specific Details about the Women Working Downtown Honolulu versus Waikiki Streetwalkers

What a difference two miles makes! Waikiki’s main shopping drag, Kalakaua Avenue, is in the top ten of money making retail streets in the world. Tourists always go there, then venture outwards. Downtown is shocking for its poverty and in-your-face homelessness. Nowadays homelessness is in your face everywhere on Oahu, but I think the tourist officials do their best to keep it out of Waikiki. Downtown, you can stumble upon people shooting up (ice, heroin, or a combo) and smoking crack right out in public. The users may or may not turn their backs to passers-by. Drugs are more easily available downtown although they are most certainly present in Waikiki, but the dealers are in apartments or hotels and not as much on the street. Prostitution downtown is a major funding source for the illegal drug trade. The girls are addicted in town. That was not usually the case in Waikiki when street prostitution was a visible presence. Waikiki tricks and providers were transient and moneyed and also includes pimps. Downtown was for the locals. These were the people who formed the community of providers and tricks and the regulars who all knew each other.


Waikiki Prostitutes

On the “town” side of Oahu there were two main places to pick up hookers on the street, Waikiki and downtown. Waikiki women were rumored to always have black pimps lurking in the background (I have sen this). They targeted wealthy Japanese tourists and charged no less than $200. These women were not locals, they were black or white for the most part and in Hawaii it is rare to have a group comprised of just blacks and whites. They pretended they were from Hawaii to appeal to tourist guys looking to sample local flavor. Instead they came from out of state and the two-four weeks spent in Waikiki was one of the stops on the nationwide hooker “circuit.” They looked great but their service never lived up to the packaging . They were not drug addicts because they had to give their money to their pimps. The cops had run them off high end real estate Kalakaua Avenue and had to stay one block off the ocean on Kukui Street, and only at night. Today you never see these women with the glass heels and the traditional hooker style of dress anymore. There are no more easily recognizable working girls on Kuhio Avenue in Waikiki anymore. I never see women in platform heels with fake fish appearing to swim within the clear footwear, standing a few inches behind a military guys while they take money out of an atm. I don’t know where they all went.

What’s Left of Hidden Secret Street Sex Town Side of Oahu

Reminds me of how Trump’s friend Rudy Giuliani was mayor of New York (which is when I lived in Manhattan as a young adult). Giuliani got all the visible crime off the streets of Manhattan and turned Times Square into a Disney Zone (Mickey Mouse is actually a presence in what used to be transvestite central.) Not that there were trannies in Waikiki, they had a section of downtown Honolulu, a street called Merchant Street where mahus worked. The mahus aren’t on Merchant Street anymore, the out of state high dollar streetwalkers aren’t on Kuhio Street. The only street sex business is still on Kukui Street in Downtown Honolulu, but it is no longer 24 hours, no longer brisk and profitable. The few guys that come around do so by night and they have a choice of a few scraggly homeless and addicted women outnumbered by equally scraggly homeless and addicted men who are dressed like women.

Do I have a point? I don’t know. Just giving you a visual.


Downtown or simply, “Town” was the length of Kukui Street, from Pali Safeway on one side and the community center on Kukui and A’ala Street on the other side. Women were all ages and races. I have seen a coupe of women who were seniors, like 60’s and 70’s, and the combination of white, black, Polynesian, Japanese, Chinese, Samoan–ok I’m tired, you get the idea–that combination was typical of the many brown skinned people whose heritage isn’t a word but a list of ethnicities. Addiction is the common thread because addiction does not discriminate. I was not the only educated person. Addiction is one of the few things that does not discriminate . It appears that anyone who is exposed to a drug is as likely to get addicted as anyone else who is exposed to a drug. Pimps weren’t downtown because downtown the women were giving all of their money to the dope. They already had pimps, in a manner of speaking.

Addiction Based Economics

the economy was addiction driven you would find people who are more desperate and therefore less likely to have another option for making money, more willing to do anything, and to do anything for a much smaller amount of money. Downtown had a reputation, among guys I have talked to, for better service (in other words, they were more likely to get what they want) and Waikiki women were thought to be overpriced for the more limited range of services they offered. Downtown women wanted to get their money fast and get to the dealer so it was likely that you could find a girl who’d jump in your car and do the deed real quick on the side of the road that was, it was hoped, semi-private. As was typical of people seeking drugs, the open air sex market downtown truly was open 24-7. A woman could walk out onto Kukui Street and any time of the day or night pick up a guy looking to pay her for her time. She could be back in place, or more likely, looking for the dope man, within 15 minutes. A woman was fortunate to find someone who would pay $100, she was generally happy with $60, but it was hard to turn down $20 when guys knew someone else would do it for that price. Women spotted their “regulars,” guys who liked them and frequently saw them because they had all levels of relationships with these frequent fliers, when the regulars drove around the loop of Kukui Street to Vineyard Street. No homeless woman could keep a phone because her stuff was always stolen when she was asleep, usually by the person she trusted to watch her stuff so telephone numbers were generally useless and the online dating scene went untapped by homeless drug addicts because they had no reliable internet access. Downtown Women were usually homeless and usually looked homeless. They could get stuck downtown for years. Waikiki women were usually much better looking, took better care of themselves, were young, and the faces were always changing as the young working girls travelled to other “ho strolls” around the country.

How Much Time Did He Want To Spend?

Waikiki women had someone to answer to so they had to get back to that person. One of the things that surprised me was how very many guys were lonely. They were often, but not always, older and they wanted a woman to keep them company. They bought her dope, allowed her to use dope at his place, to sleep, to shower. A woman would stay with him for as long as that gravy train was running. It seemed like every woman had a guy who wanted her company. It was also common for a guy to date most of the better looking woman downtown for quick sessions in the car, or for longer periods of time. When a guy ran out of money for dope, the woman was out of there, even if he wanted her to stay. I have seen many men driving around “the back street” forlornly looking for a woman he wanted to be with. I remember one old man sadly telling me “I just couldn’t keep up.” Her habit outpaced his income. I didn’t know where she was and was never comfortable leading a man who might do God-knows-what to an unsuspecting working girl. I never got the impression that guys formed relationships with Waikiki girls because time didn’t permit. I could be wrong in this case. However, as for the rest of the details in this writing, I am quite certain I wrote the truth.

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First Blog post: “All Men are not Gay, but I like watching two men”

  1. This is the 2021 reposting of the first post. I was really on track with the singleness of purpose for the subject matter. I began to stray from the tight focus. Look at the first effort to discuss experience with street life in Honolulu
  2. Begin:
  3. November 16, 2017

That is what another working girl said to me a couple of years ago. I would have wanted to be friends with her but when she heard people call me smart and pretty she thought her business would suffer if I was around. She was always ready to undermine my hopes. I had met a nice truck over the weekend. For hours he just wanted me to watch hours of YouTube videos of fashion runway shows in my best outfit, my birthday suit. I liked him. He enjoyed my intelligence and I did not have to dumb down my language to look like an airhead and/or reassure him he was no airhead. I recounted my enjoyable and profitable Saturday night. Did she think I could have a friend in “J.”? One issue, when I expressed admiration for the physiques of running backs he agreed whole heartedly and added, “don’t they have the best asses in the world?” I joked with him that it was more than being a die hard Patriots fan that had him watching football in August. He appeared to be a bit homosexual but I wondered why he would have spent so much time with me. No he couldn’t be gay and I might have a new buddy who knew what I did and was cool with hanging out.

Cindy, my colleague, played her usual role of confidence underminer. No I did not have a friend in him. First of all you need to stop falling in love with the tricks. Second of all the homosexual inclination was obviously strong in him if he admitted his attraction. But all guys go there with the same sex. They start off experimenting as young teenagers. Whatever they did, like group masturbation, sometimes called a circle jerk, was never discussed aloud. Everyone knew but no one ever said. Sex and relationships with women and encounters with other men. Cindy said it was men’s way of showing themselves their need for women was minimal. Their secret acts made them feel powerful over women who did not know how truly temporary men’s desire was for women, expendable women. And if a man was peeking out of the closet where he hid his homosexuality by making a small remark as Jay had, well, that’s a man who probably had no relationship with a woman and did not want one. I felt deflated after we spoke bc I liked him. However I felt more intrigued about male homosexuality than ever before. All men? Willing to engage in secret acts all throughout their sex lives. It was time yo investigate. If there was a group of people u had access to it was men