我們翻譯這篇文章的理由
這個(gè)世界遠(yuǎn)比我們以為的要復(fù)雜得多。不是每個(gè)人都和你一樣幸運(yùn)。
??
有一種職業(yè)叫“性工作者”
作者：Tamara Macleod
譯者：劉 蕊
校對(duì)：崔 穎
策劃：宋一 & 唐蕭
Lolita understood that some sex is transactional. So did I.
洛麗塔明白某些性可以用來(lái)交易，我也明白。
There is a moment in Adrian Lyne’s film Lolita (1997) that is burned onto my memory. I was probably around 12, up late, watching it on terrestrial television. Lolita and her guardian, lover or captor have been moving between seedy motels, the romantic aesthetics waning until they wrestle on distressed sheets in a darkened room. The bed is covered with coins. Humbert has discovered Lolita has been stashing away the money he has ‘become accustomed’ to paying her, and he suddenly fears she is saving it in order to leave him, something that has not yet occurred to him. The shots are intimate, violent and jarring, ruptured by a later scene in which Lolita shouts: ‘I earned that money!’ We realise that Lolita has learned that sexual acts have monetary value.
阿德里安·萊恩的電影《洛麗塔》中有這樣一幕場(chǎng)景，始終令我記憶深刻。當(dāng)時(shí)我大概12歲，晚上熬夜在舊電視機(jī)上看完的這部電影。洛麗塔和她的監(jiān)護(hù)人、情人或者說(shuō)是占有她的人不停地往來(lái)于各種破舊的汽車旅館，浪漫漸漸消失殆盡，最后他們?cè)诤诎档姆块g里，在破舊的床單上扭打了起來(lái)。床上撒滿了硬幣。亨伯特發(fā)現(xiàn)洛麗塔將自己“習(xí)慣性”付給她的錢存了起來(lái)。他突然開(kāi)始害怕，害怕洛麗塔存錢是為了離開(kāi)自己，這是他之前從未想過(guò)的。這一幕幕場(chǎng)景親密、殘忍又沖突，鏡頭隨后一轉(zhuǎn)，洛麗塔大叫：“這是我掙來(lái)的錢！”這時(shí)，我們才意識(shí)到，洛麗塔已經(jīng)明白性行為是有金錢價(jià)值的。
My own realisation came through different circumstances. Like Humbert, some of the men who exploited my vulnerability were probably unconscious of the role they played in the power struggle between an impoverished young woman and the men who could offer her resources. Humbert is exploitative. He also believes in the love between himself and Lolita. To him, the commodity-exchange or transactional aspect of their relationship is the perversion. Its articulation shocks him, the truth of it (or the mere fact that Lolita understands it herself) threatens him so much that he strikes her across the face. He immediately regrets it and submits to her blows, insisting that she be silent.
我的認(rèn)識(shí)又有些不同。這是一場(chǎng)一個(gè)年輕卻貧窮的女人和可以給她提供資源的男人們之間的權(quán)力斗爭(zhēng)。和亨伯特一樣，那些利用了我的脆弱的男人們，他們根本沒(méi)有意識(shí)到，在這場(chǎng)斗爭(zhēng)中，自己到底扮演著怎樣的角色。亨伯特乘虛而入，但他相信自己和洛麗塔之間是有愛(ài)的。在他看來(lái)，這段關(guān)系中的物質(zhì)交換或者說(shuō)是物質(zhì)交易只是一種誤解。哪怕提到交易這個(gè)詞，都讓亨伯特震驚不已，更不用說(shuō)當(dāng)交易的事實(shí)赤裸裸地展現(xiàn)了出來(lái)（甚至僅僅只是洛麗塔明白了交易的含義），亨伯特倍感威脅，他狠狠地打了洛麗塔一巴掌，但很快又后悔了，任洛麗塔拳打腳踢，但堅(jiān)持要讓她閉嘴。
Humbert’s violence, his refusal to accept the whore, stands for the ages. From religious fundamentalists to certain kinds of radical feminists, a lot of different types of people agree that work is respectable and even noble, and that sex work is degraded and criminal. In truth, sometimes sex work is degrading, sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it is illegal, often it’s legally complex; but why is sex work not understood to be work?
亨伯特的激烈反應(yīng)，他對(duì)“妓女”這個(gè)概念的抗拒，都有其背后的時(shí)代內(nèi)涵。從宗教原教旨主義者到某些激進(jìn)的女權(quán)主義者，人們的信仰和主張或許不同，但大家卻一致認(rèn)為工作是可敬的，甚至是高尚的，性工作卻是墮落的，是犯罪。確實(shí)，性工作有時(shí)是可恥的，有時(shí)又不是。有時(shí)是違法的，但更多時(shí)候從法律角度來(lái)看，是復(fù)雜的。為什么性工作不能被認(rèn)為是一種職業(yè)呢？
I understand that sex work is work because it is the work I do. I watched Lolita long before I became a sex worker, but not long before I began exchanging sex for things: something to eat, something to smoke, a place to sleep, a job opportunity. I identified with Lolita; I also knew that I sympathised with Humbert. This is Vladimir Nabokov’s talent after all, to have us still torn apart well into the 21st century. I see the monstrosity of the man who abducts Lolita, but I am more interested in Lolita the sex worker. I read the book (originally published in 1955) when I was 14 and it made me uncomfortable, but I’ve always been comfortable with being made uncomfortable. The novel I read was about a young girl whose unfortunate circumstances forced her to grow up too fast, as they say; who was resourceful as much as she was a victim. Criticism of Lolita often demands that we make binary decisions: is Lolita a victim or a whore? Is Humbert tragic or a monster? Why can’t both be true? After all, I grew up in a world that insisted I occupy a sexualised body, and then punished me for doing so without shame.
我認(rèn)為性工作也是一種職業(yè)，因?yàn)槲揖褪且幻怨ぷ髡摺！堵妍愃肥俏以诔蔀樾怨ぷ髡吆芫靡郧翱吹碾娪?，但看過(guò)電影后不久我開(kāi)始用性來(lái)做交換：換食物，換煙，換睡覺(jué)的地方，換工作機(jī)會(huì)。我能和洛麗塔產(chǎn)生共鳴，我也同情亨伯特。這就是弗拉基米爾·納博科夫的天才之處，都21世紀(jì)了，我們?nèi)栽跒閮晌唤巧械诫y過(guò)。我看到了這個(gè)誘拐洛麗塔的男人的丑惡嘴臉，但我更關(guān)心的是身為性工作者的洛麗塔。14歲那年，我讀了《洛麗塔》這本書(shū)（最初出版于1955年），它讓我感到很不舒服，不過(guò)，我一直就很擅長(zhǎng)在不舒服里找自在。而這本書(shū)講的恰好就是一個(gè)年輕女孩——或者說(shuō)一個(gè)聰明伶俐卻又飽受折磨的女孩——在不舒服的環(huán)境下被迫成長(zhǎng)過(guò)快，如人們說(shuō)的那樣。對(duì)洛麗塔持質(zhì)疑態(tài)度的人總是要求我們做出絕對(duì)的選擇：洛麗塔到底是受害者還是妓女？亨伯特到底是悲劇還是禽獸？為什么不能二者都是呢？畢竟，在我成長(zhǎng)的這個(gè)世界里，人們認(rèn)同我性感的身段，卻又因?yàn)槲也恢邜u地利用它而懲罰我。
The first time I noticed a grown man’s sexual interest in me, I was 11 years old. Something awoke in me that day, and I learned to flirt. I spent the next few years knowing that there was something I could gain in return if I stopped blushing and accepted my position as a sexualised body. I existed on the outskirts of abject poverty, and every prolonged glance, every catcall, became an opportunity. I became conscious of a world of men eager to provide money, comfort and an escape route in exchange for what I had: beauty and youth. Perhaps if I’d had a father, a stable home, the recognition of that first flirtation would have stopped there, but it didn’t. Circumstances made me a young woman with a firm grasp on the fact that my sexual appeal could get me what I needed to survive. I also had my own sexual desires in abundance, only twofold: once as desire, twice as currency.
我11歲的時(shí)候第一次意識(shí)到了成年男性對(duì)我的“性”趣。就在那一天，我的內(nèi)心被某種東西喚醒了，我開(kāi)始學(xué)著去（與男人）調(diào)情。在接下來(lái)的幾年里，我逐漸了解到，只要我不再害羞，接納我的性感，我就可以得到某些回報(bào)。我生活在貧困的邊緣。每一個(gè)異性的注視，每一次口哨聲，都成了一次機(jī)會(huì)。我意識(shí)到，世界上的男人渴望用金錢、舒適和出路來(lái)?yè)Q取我的青春和美麗。如果我有父親，有個(gè)穩(wěn)定的家，那么對(duì)于初次調(diào)情的認(rèn)識(shí)或許就到這為止了，但我沒(méi)有父親，也沒(méi)有個(gè)穩(wěn)定的家。我的成長(zhǎng)環(huán)境讓我成為了一位堅(jiān)信性吸引力才是我的生存之道的年輕女人。當(dāng)然，我也有很多對(duì)性的需求，但只表現(xiàn)在兩方面：一是單純的性欲，二是金錢誘惑下的性欲。
Sex-positive feminism helped to guard me against the most corrosive shame, but I’m not ignorant of the structural reasons that led me to trade sex in the first place. In an ideal world, I wouldn’t have to do sex work, I wouldn’t have to do any work I didn’t really want to do. But we are a long way from Eden. It is perfectly consistent to be deeply critical of the economic and gender inequalities that give rise to sex work, and still advocate for sex workers. The way to deal with cognitive dissonance is to tilt your head a little.
支持性的女權(quán)主義幫助我抵御了那些最具腐蝕性的羞辱。我知道最初讓我開(kāi)始進(jìn)行性交易的外部原因是什么。如果世界足夠理想，我不會(huì)從事與性交易相關(guān)的工作，我不會(huì)做任何我不想做的事情，但畢竟理想的伊甸園遠(yuǎn)在天邊。我們應(yīng)該譴責(zé)，經(jīng)濟(jì)和性別不平等導(dǎo)致越來(lái)越多的人被迫從事性工作，同時(shí)我們也應(yīng)該為性工作者搖旗吶喊，這兩者并不矛盾。要想解決認(rèn)知失調(diào)的問(wèn)題，稍稍歪下你的腦袋即可。
In 2018, the US actress Ashley Judd, along with a number of wealthy celebrities, aligned herself with the movement to criminalise sex work. It’s an action that flouts the views of the overwhelming majority of current sex workers, Amnesty International and the World Health Organization. Judd made a statement on Facebook that is representative of a kind of feminism that generally excludes working-class women: ‘one cannot consent to one’s exploitation’. The statement equates consent with satisfaction, and exploitation with something like ‘less than I’m worth’. The reality, under capitalism, is that most of us consent to our own exploitation in order to survive. This is the nature of labour under capitalism. A preoccupation with how women use their own bodies should not blind us to the ways that sex work is like other work.
2018年，美國(guó)女演員艾什莉·賈德和許多有錢的名人一起發(fā)起了一項(xiàng)將性工作定為犯罪的運(yùn)動(dòng)。這項(xiàng)運(yùn)動(dòng)是對(duì)目前大多數(shù)性工作者、大赦國(guó)際（Amnesty International）和世界衛(wèi)生組織（World Health Organization）所持觀點(diǎn)的蔑視。賈德在臉書(shū)上的聲明代表著一類特定的女權(quán)主義，這種女權(quán)主義將勞動(dòng)階級(jí)女性拒之門外：“一個(gè)人不能同意自己被利用。”這種說(shuō)法把同意等同于滿足，利用等同于“我不值得”。但事實(shí)上，在資本主義下，大多數(shù)人都同意利用自己來(lái)以此謀生。這就是資本主義下勞動(dòng)的本質(zhì)。人們關(guān)注女性如何利用自己的身體，但這并不意味著我們就應(yīng)該對(duì)性工作與其他工作的相似之處視而不見(jiàn)。
It is important to distinguish (sex) work from slavery, and what we do for pleasure from what we do to survive. We should understand that these things can intersect sometimes without being the same. This insight enables us to see the demands of current sex workers (generally to be left alone to work in communities with no regulatory or carceral intervention) as righteous and urgent, while at the same time acknowledging that it is important to find effective ways to tackle sex trafficking.
區(qū)分（性）工作和奴役是很重要的，“為了愉悅”和“為了生存”是不同的。我們應(yīng)該明白，他們有時(shí)會(huì)有交集，卻完全不同。這種觀點(diǎn)讓我們認(rèn)識(shí)到，目前性工作者的需求是正確而又緊迫的 （性工作者通常孤零零地在社區(qū)里工作，沒(méi)有監(jiān)管），同時(shí)也讓我們認(rèn)識(shí)到，我們必須找到方法有效地解決性販運(yùn)問(wèn)題。
In her book Playing the Whore (2014), Melissa Gira Grant o?ers an excellent analysis of the ways in which the fight by 20th-century feminists to have the boundaries between the home and not-home dissolved, with both recognised as workplaces, set the stage for myriad labour-rights e?orts. Such was the move by feminists to have their labour – largely resigned to the home and disregarded – understood as legitimate work. However, I think that it is the middle-class consciousness of liberal feminism that excluded sex work from its platform. After all, wealthier women didn’t need to do sex work as such; they operated within the state-sanctioned transactional boundaries of marriage. The dissatisfaction of the 20th-century housewife was codified as a struggle for liberty and independence as an addition to subsidised material existence, making a feminist discourse on work less about what one has to do, and more about what one wants to do. A distinction within women’s work emerged: if you don’t enjoy having sex with your husband, it’s just a problem with the marriage. If you don’t enjoy sex with a client, it’s because you can’t consent to your own exploitation. It is a binary view of sex and consent, work and not-work, when the reality is somewhat murkier. It is a stubborn blindness to the complexity of human relations, and maybe of human psychology itself, descending from the viscera-obsessed, radical absolutisms of Andrea Dworkin.
梅麗莎·基拉在2014年出版的《扮演妓女》一書(shū)中，對(duì)20世紀(jì)女權(quán)主義者為消除家庭和非家庭之間的界限所作出的斗爭(zhēng)進(jìn)行了精彩的分析。她將兩者都視作工作場(chǎng)所，這為日后無(wú)數(shù)的勞動(dòng)權(quán)利斗爭(zhēng)奠定了基礎(chǔ)。女權(quán)主義者通過(guò)努力，將自己的勞動(dòng)——很大程度上屈服于家庭并遭到忽視——合法化。但是，我認(rèn)為正是這種中產(chǎn)階級(jí)的自由女權(quán)主義將性工作擋在了門外。畢竟，有錢的女性不需要從事性工作，她們靠著婚姻就能達(dá)到目的，還受法律認(rèn)可。人們認(rèn)為，20世紀(jì)的家庭主婦有所不滿，于是開(kāi)始爭(zhēng)取自由與獨(dú)立，而這都是她們靠著丈夫得來(lái)的富裕物質(zhì)生活外的額外消遣罷了，這也使得女權(quán)主義者在討論工作的時(shí)候，更多地是在關(guān)注一個(gè)人想要做什么，而非一個(gè)的不得已要做什么。于是，女性工作上的區(qū)別就出現(xiàn)了：如果你不喜歡和丈夫做愛(ài)，這只是婚姻問(wèn)題。如果你不喜歡和客戶做愛(ài)，那是因?yàn)槟悴辉试S自己被利用。這是一個(gè)關(guān)于性與同意，工作與非工作的二選一的問(wèn)題，而現(xiàn)實(shí)在這個(gè)問(wèn)題上的態(tài)度卻遠(yuǎn)要模糊得多。我們固執(zhí)地對(duì)人類關(guān)系的復(fù)雜性，或者說(shuō)對(duì)人類心理本身選擇視而不見(jiàn)，這種視而不見(jiàn)源于安德麗婭·德沃金那種癡迷于內(nèi)心、極端絕對(duì)論的思想。
The housewife who married for money and then fakes orgasms, the single mother who has sex with a man she doesn’t really like because he’s o?ering her some respite: where are the delineations between consent and exploitation, sex and duty? The first time I traded sex for material gain, I had some choices, but they were limited. I chose to be exploited by the man with the resources I needed, choosing his house over homelessness. Lolita was a child, and she was exploited, but she was also conscious of the function of her body in a patriarchal economy. Philosophically speaking, most of us do indeed consent to our own exploitation.
有的家庭主婦為了錢結(jié)婚，婚后假裝高潮；有的單親母親和不那么喜歡的人發(fā)生關(guān)系，因?yàn)閷?duì)方能帶來(lái)某些好處：同意和利用，性和責(zé)任之間的界限又在哪里呢？第一次用性來(lái)進(jìn)行物質(zhì)交換的時(shí)候，我其實(shí)是有其他選擇的，但這些選擇十分有限。于是，我選擇被男人利用，以此換取我想要的東西，我選擇住在他的家里，這樣我就不會(huì)無(wú)家可歸了。洛麗塔還小，她是被利用了，但是她同時(shí)也意識(shí)到了，在父權(quán)經(jīng)濟(jì)下，她的身體是有用的。從哲學(xué)上來(lái)說(shuō)，我們大多數(shù)人都是同意自己被利用的。
Juno Mac and Molly Smith provide a remarkable analysis in their book Revolting Prostitutes (2018). The voices of those in their book should not be ignored; more than most, we know that the exchanges of sexual politics are complex, that people often have mixed motives and, perhaps most of all, that the global economy is failing people. We need to reconsider our relationships to liberty, consent, enjoyment and work.
朱諾·麥克和莫利·史密斯在他們2018年出版的《妓女的反抗》一書(shū)中進(jìn)行了精彩的分析。書(shū)中那些人物的聲音不應(yīng)當(dāng)被忽視：我們比大多數(shù)人更清楚，性別政治的交換是復(fù)雜的，人們的動(dòng)機(jī)通常也是復(fù)雜的，更重要的是，全球經(jīng)濟(jì)讓人們?cè)絹?lái)越失望。我們需要重新考慮自己與自由、同意、愉悅和工作之間的關(guān)系。
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本文原載于 Aeon
原文鏈接：https://aeon.co/ideas/lolita-understood-that-some-sex-is-transactional-so-did-i
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