Preacher's Daughter

I grew up in church, as the youngest daughter to faith-filled, poverty riddled pastors. My earliest memories are permeated with church and all that church entails -- from praying, dancing, singing worship songs, being quiet, taking communions, and tightly crossing my legs over the longest periods of time.

Even when I was not in church service, I was still in church as one could only imagine living with pastors. We prayed, rehearsed the worship songs, dad prepared his sermons, we read scripture, and aimed to live according to it. I lived and breathed Christianity. It was all I knew. It was all we had.

The church I describe would, depending on the year, be held either in the living room of the house our family would inevitably be evicted out of, in a rented building, or in a hotel conference room. There were numerous churches with various names and numerous calls from the Lord that necessitated many relocations. I cannot name off the top of my head all of the schools I had gone to growing up, nor recount the countless times my sisters and I sat together in tears because we were very hungry. The only thing that was consistent in my upbringing was this never-ending church.

Very early on, I began to question my learned beliefs... If the blessing of the Lord maketh us rich, why were we always without? If husbands were supposed to love thy wives as Christ himself loved the church, why was dad always causing mom to cry? If the rod was meant to be used on us children, did God truly intend for that rod to be used so mercilessly it bruised and broke our skin and for moments in time our spirits? If being gay is an abomination, a choice, why was I attracted to both genders from as early as I could remember? If angels surround me, to protect me, why did some bad things happen to helpless little me?

I could not make sense of things, and so I began to rebel against the constraints and expectations that had been placed upon me. By the time my parents divorced for the third time, I was completely immersed in being an artsy punk rocker (I went through a rock 'n' roll phase; the raw energy and defiance of punk rock music and lifestyle resonated with me at the time; the remnants of this phase are a couple discreet tattoos I have which I am in the process of removing, and my expertise with eyeliner). I rejected anything I believed would obscure, limit, or dominate others including the doctrines and moral codes that had been instilled in me from as early as I can remember. Skipping out on church became a regular occurrence. In my quest for self-discovery I was learning how to pleasure myself -- not only in the physical sense, but also exploring my identity and desires in a broader context. This exploration was accompanied by a shift in how I presented myself to the world. I began styling myself provocatively, having been restrained to modesty my entire life thus far. My wardrobe transformed into a canvas of expression, individuality, emerging sexuality and defiance. At this period in my life, all my friends donned leather jackets, and had colorful hair.

Then the wildest thing of all occurred... As I grew up and gained life experiences, I made personal discoveries, began dressing sexy yet ladylike, decidedly submitted myself only to the right people and things, and some of my foundational beliefs unwittingly found their way back to my heart, mind and spirit. It may very well come across as paradoxical, although I am an escort who has faith in Christ.... This statement in itself encapsulates a profound complexity within my very existence... Reflecting the intricate interplay between my profession and my faith.

While I no longer believe in the institution of church (regardless the denomination) being a necessity per se, having personally experienced, witnessed and hear of the hurt it has caused many church goers -- due to the institution oftentimes attracting exploitative individuals seeking out power over others -- I am still a believer church is the poor girl and boys best finishing school. It does not matter whatsoever one's socioeconomic status, when you grow up in church your guarantees are knowing how to clean yourself up; speak well; develop a high reading level; possessing the competence and decorum to act like a lady or gentleman; having compassion; having the expertness to articulate your own views; having the ability to put your faith in people and things... Though we were truly poor, we always remained well-read, clean, and classy (except for the two-year rock n' roll phase of mine), with a belief in infinite possibilities.

Although I no longer adhere to the biblical concept of preserving my innocence, I am aware that everything I possess as a 'fallen woman' still holds tremendous value. Without it, the escort industry worth trillions would not exist...