My Mother was a Suburban Prostitute

Prostitutes are a social icon. We imagine them as wild girls searching for the a man to tame them, like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, or as tough, spunky businesswomen, like the towering prostitute from Woody Allen's, Deconstructing Harry.

There is one role however, that we seldom attribute to sex workers; The role of Mother.

My mother worked as a career prostitute for over fifteen years, beginning when I was two and continuing on through the entirety of my childhood. As a child I had no knowledge of her real job. I believed my family to be the picture of normality. My Father became permanently disabled shortly after I was born, and did not work, but I always accepted this social reversal. He was an active stay at home Dad, taking care of the house and my Brother and I.

There was no violence, and there were no drugs. We lived in a small house in a suburban neighborhood, just down the street from my Elementary School. My mother for her part, was a smiling, chipper woman. She wore ladies business suits and designer clothes, acting out the professional image she lived under.

For a while she was a licensed Realtor, but she sold very few houses. Later, the story of her occupation would change to telemarketing. It amazes me now why I never questioned the fact that she worked until three in the morning at an intrinsically daytime job. My vision of my perfect family drifted away when I was fourteen. My parents had separated, but that barely scratched my emotions.

Then almost a year later, my brother and his girlfriend walked through the door of our Mother's house, where we had been staying since the separation. My Brother moved strangely. He looked like he had fallen off a mountain. His girlfriend, a good friend of mine, seemed full of terrible nervous energy. As my Brother shuffled painfully into the living room, she somberly approached me, telling me we had to go talk.

"There's something you need to know," she told me as I stood fearfully against the wall of my bedroom. I was expecting for someone to be dead.

"Your Mother is part of a call girl ring, Malcolm." she blurted out, "She's a prostitute."